Manor of the Master

“The loss of those shoes caused me considerable embarrassment,” says Miss. Rose haughtily as you strain against your bonds. You have been commanded to stand in the middle of the room, bent over, hands tied to your ankles, to receive three dozen cane strokes. Mr. Harding, the guest, reclines gently in his chair, content to view your squirming posterior, of which he has an excellent view.

Miss Rose, taps the cane sharply against your proffered bottom. “These strokes are fitting punishment for a crime such as theft. Mistresses have many items that provoke desire – but slaves may have none. Their pleasures must always be subordinate to our own. Do you accept the righteousness of your coming punishment?”

There is, of course, only one answer: “Yes, miss,” you reply subserviently.

For Mature Readers Only This is a work of fiction. In real life practice safe sex.

For Emma, who taught me it’s okay to be naughty.

Introduction

This is a spanking and submission adventure book. It follows the story of your character, a young girl in her twenties, who ends up at the mighty mansion of an overbearing Master who keeps a harem of submissive slave girls for his own twisted pleasure. The aim of the game is not to escape, but rather to become the Master’s favourite, displacing the cruel mistress superiors and becoming the Master’s right hand girl. However, this will not be easy. You are a newcomer, and every other girl in the mansion seeks the same ends. You must carefully submit, dominate, thrash and be thrashed on your way to power, before the master sets you your lifetime role, condemning you to a life of barely noticed mediocrity. Expect betrayal and jealousy as you rise to power, watch your back (and your bottom), fulfil the Master’s whims, and you might just reach your goal.

Creating your Slave Girl

In order to play in this adventure you have to create the personality and attributes of the girl who is about to be enslaved to the Master’s whims. Whether you wish to create an arch-submissive, a cruel potential Mistress, or a sly manipulator, you create your character in the same way.

• You have 15 points to create your character. You can spend these on Attributes or Traits, or gain more points by giving your character Weaknesses.

• Spend points on Attributes first, deciding what your slave girl is best at and where she falls short. If you put three point in Willpower, for instance, you will have 12 points left. Spend all your points, or save some for special ‘Traits’.

• Once you’ve spent some points on your Attributes, buy some Traits. These will give you special advantages in the Master’s manor. They cost 1 point each, although you get one ‘Trait’ free.

• Want more points? Select some ‘Weaknesses’. These will hinder and disadvantage you in the manor. Each Weakness you select gives you an extra point to spend on traits and attributes. However, you must select one Weakness for free – nobody’s perfect!

Attributes

There are four Attributes in the game, which help to sum up your Slave Girl’s personality.

Ambition – Girls with ambition have the drive to succeed and to dominate others. Ambitious girls seek out and snatch promotion from every conceivable situation, and are fearless punishers, able to issue beatings to their lessers without mercy.

Dignity – Girls with dignity have poise and grace. They are competent during formal situations, and members of the upper class find their company agreeable.

Willpower – Girls with willpower can endure the toughest punishment without cracking. They can take stroke after stroke, humiliation heaped upon humiliation, and still never become completely broken.

Submission – Girls with submission take orders easily and relish being commanded. Submissive girls often avoid the ire of the senior mistresses through their devout attention to rules and regulations, making it difficult to invent reasons for punishment.

You can spend your points on these attributes. Each attribute must start with a value of at least 1. There is no maximum number of points you can have on an attribute.

If ever any of your attributes drop to 0 or lower, Turn to page 677.
immediately!

Traits

Traits are special abilities that set your girl apart from others. They might be a physical enhancement, such as being well endowed or physically strong, or a curious mental fetish, such as a love of uniforms or an obsession with caning. Traits are generally, although not always, an advantage.

You begin with a single Trait free which you can select from the list below. You can purchase more – they cost one point each.

– Busty girls catch the eye. The Master is well known for his love of the well endowed, and you are likely to be chosen ahead of your colleagues, for good or ill.

– Blonde girls have more fun. Like Busty, this physical attribute can open doors for you.

– Your bottom tends to redden up more quickly than other girls, and your whip marks blaze a fiery red. This aesthetic effect is greatly desired by some mistresses, and may benefit, or penalise you, accordingly.

– Your bum is made of tough stuff. You have an extra bum status, Scorching, that exists on top of Blazing. This means you don’t lose an attribute point if you shift one position above Blazing. If you get sorer after Scorching, however, you’ll still suffer. You cannot take this trait if you have the Big Girl’s Blouse weakness.

– You’re stronger than most girls, allowing you to overpower them. This trait doesn’t make you Supergirl, but it can aid you in escaping difficult situations.

– Secretly, all your life you’ve dreamt of being thrashed by the cane – the bending over, the sharp sting, the sobbing… you want it all. This trait is a mixed blessing. You find it hard to resist acceding to an offer of a caning, but your love of the implement makes you better able to endure it. When you are caned, you can reduce the number of steps up the Bum Status chart by one. If, for example, you are raised three steps, you can reduce it to two. This does not apply to flogging, hand spanking, or any other non-cane punishments.

– When dressed up in a uniform or maid’s outfit, you naturally assume the role you’re supposed to play. When in a uniform your Ambition becomes 10 until your uniform is taken off or damaged. When in a maid’s outfit, your Submission becomes 10 until the uniform is completely removed (just dropping panties doesn’t count). The text will tell you when you can do this.

– You can take a thrashing, then next day your welts have practically vanished! When you are asked to lower your Bum Status, you can lower your Bum Status by an extra level, but not below Unblemished.

– You hate to admit it, but you love to see the other girls suffer. When you are responsible for having another girl punished, you can gain an extra attribute point. The text will tell you when you can do this.

Weakness

Unlike Traits, Weaknesses are generally disadvantages that will hinder you progress. You start with a single weakness which you can choose from the list below (you can’t ‘buy it off’ with a point). If you want more points to build your character, you can select additional weaknesses. Each extra weakness you choose gives you an extra point to spend.

– You just can’t take a beating as well as some girls. Your Bum Status chart stops at Fiery. After that you lose attribute points. You cannot take this weakness if you have the Toughness trait.

– You’re dexterity is … poor. You tend to drop things, bump into stuff, and generally make a nuisance of yourself. Expect a sore bottom from your frequent mishaps.

– Your self confidence is easily shaken. Whenever you are told to lose Ambition points, lose an extra point.

– You are very prone to ridicule. Whenever you are told to lose Dignity points, lose an extra point.

– Even small mishaps can wreck your will. Whenever you are told to lose Willpower points, lose an extra point.

– Submitting to others is not in your nature, and you are easily dissuaded. Whenever you are told to lose Submission points, lose an extra point.

– You don’t mind being naked – well, not really. And it’s okay to stand half naked in your underwear. But some costumes are just … too much. You are very susceptible to humiliating costumes.

– No girl likes a tit whipping, but you’re particularly nervous about them…

– Quite by chance, you will discover you went to the same school as a notorious bully, who used to beat and humiliate you as a girl. She’s here, in the Master’s mansion. The problem is you never could stand up to her ...

– When a girl’s got to go she’s got to go. Trouble is you have to go too often. It’s not that you have a medical problem, it’s just that your bladder fills up at the slightest anxiety. This may have an effect in the story.

Bum Status

Throughout the story, your character will be soundly beaten either as punishment, or for the raw pleasure of the Master and his servants. It is important to track how sore your bottom becomes throughout the story. There is a seven point track, from Unblemished to Blazing, through which your character can endure punishment without disadvantage.

Your girl starts with an Unblemished bottom, completely mark free and clear of any crimsoning. Throughout the story, as your character’s bottom is punished, you will be asked to go a number of places up the track. If for example, you are given a sound spanking, you might be asked to go up two steps up the Bum Status track. This would put you on ‘Sore’. If after that you had the misfortune of being punished again by a stout caning, you might be asked to go three steps up the track. This would put you on ‘Fiery’.

• (Scorching)

• Blazing

• Fiery

• Throbbing

• Ouchy

• Sore

• Warm

• Unblemished

A ‘Blazing’ bottom is as much as you can take without delving into the depths of your soul to keep still. For every step beyond ‘Blazing’ you must deduct one point from one of your attributes. These points can come from any attribute you like. You might take it from Willpower to represent your sapping strength of will, or from your Dignity, as your character considers what a spectacle she is making of herself as she wriggles under the lash. Beware that if any of your attributes drop to zero or less, your story will be over as your character submits to a role more in keeping with her weakness.

(Note: Characters with the ‘Tough’ attribute have one more step on the track after ‘Blazing’ – ‘Scorching’. They only lose attribute points for each step beyond ‘Scorching’ they reach. Likewise characters with the ‘Big Girl’s blouse’ weakness can only go up to ‘Fiery’ before losing attribute points.)

Your bottom won’t just get sorer. It will also recover over time. In this case you will be asked to move a certain number of places down the track. Note that the chart tops out at Blazing (Fiery if you have the weakness ‘Big Girl’s Blouse’, Agonizing if you have the trait ‘Tough’), and even if you go over this level and lose attribute points, you do not go higher up the track.

For example, if your bottom was ‘Blazing’ and you were asked to go two steps up the Bum Status track, you would lose 2 attribute points. If later you were asked to go down two steps on the track, your bottom would be on ‘Throbbing’ – because the Bum Status chart tops out at ‘Blazing’.

You can’t go lower than Unblemished - that’s your bottom fully healed!

Codewords

Throughout the game you will be asked to record codewords. Codewords keep track of your actions throughout the game. Sometimes you will be asked to go to a certain paragraph if you have a particular code word. In this case you must immediately turn the page requested.

Fame

You start the game a complete unknown, with no Fame points. You can gain Fame points by performing news-worthy or eyecatching deeds. Become famous enough and even the Master will be interested in you!

Cruelty

If you manage to become a mistress you will need to rule with a firm hand – but will you be a lenient, moderate, or domineering mistress. Cruelty points track how feared you are amongst the slaves.

Character Sheet

You can use a piece of scrap paper to keep track of your Attributes, Bum Status, Traits, Weaknesses and Codewords – it doesn’t matter how you set it out, just make sure you copy out the Bum Status chart correctly (you don’t want to end up cheating your own bottom, do you?).

Alternatively you can download a character sheet, for free, at: 4shared.com

Playing the game

After you have created your slave girl begin reading at reference 1. You will be presented with various options to choose from at the end of each reference – just select the one you want and turn to the reference page indicated.

Sometimes the book will ask you if you have a Codeword, or to turn to a certain page if you have an Attribute score of a certain number. When prompted you must immediately turn to the indicated page if you possesses the codeword or correct score. Sometimes a list of codeword checks appear – such as:

If you have the Codeword GREEN, Turn to page 455.
If you have the Codeword FLIGHT, Turn to page 456.

In this case you must turn to the correct page in the order which you are asked. For example, if you had both the Codewords GREEN and FLIGHT, you would Turn to page 455.
– because you were asked for that codeword first.

Some sections of the book are in bold. This indicates that the events that happen in them only occur if you meet the criteria at the beginning of the paragraph. For example:

If your Willpower is less than 3 you cannot help but reach round and clutch your scalding buttocks as your mistress plies her cane into your bum. “Wretched girl,” she thunders. “I did not grant you permission to touch your bottom! Another six strokes for your defiance!” You howl out as your mistress, ever true to her word, slices the cane another half dozen times into your naked backside. Raise your Bum Status by 2 levels.

In this instance this entire event only occurs if your Willpower was less than 3. If you had a Willpower score of 3 or more, you would completely ignore the paragraph. In other words your slave girl didn’t grasp her bum in pain, your mistress didn’t scald you for it, neither would you have to raise your Bum Status by 2 levels.

Enjoy your game!

Now Turn to page 1.

Page 1

It’s no good – the car won’t start. You curse yourself for landing in this predicament. Your boss told you a thousand times to check the oil and water in the engine during long drives, but somehow it all seemed such a lot of bother. Now you’re stuck down a dark single lane road at midnight, having taken a ‘shortcut’ that has left you badly lost. Quickly you check your phone to call out a mechanic, but it seems that there is no signal in this part of the country. Typical.

There’s no choice, you’ll have to find help. You exit the car into the pouring rain and wander aimlessly down the lane, hoping to find a house that might let you use their phone.

After about half a mile, you eventually come to a long, gravel driveway. There is little light but you can just about make out a grand manor off in the distance, from which several lights continue to burn even at this late hour. Trudging wearily forwards you eventually end up at a pair of impressive iron gates, attached to a high black iron fence that runs the perimeter of the house. A grand crest tops the gates, of a naked woman on her knees, head bowed in submission. The gates look closed, and you search for a means of contacting the household. There does not appear to be a buzzer or speaker system. In frustration you try to open the gates by hand. The moment you touch them you feel a strange buzzing sensation in your head, as if something has entered your mind. You stand, frozen, gripping the gate as your dazed mind attempts to understand what is going on. The feeling passes as soon as it arrived, and within moments the gates open widely. You feel an overwhelming urge to proceed on, which you do, almost without thinking.

As you approach you are able to see more clearly through the windows of the massive mansion. Most are curtained shut, with only a little light peeping though. One large window, on the second floor of the mansion, is covered only by a thin screen which admits light. Within you can see the silhouette of a woman, standing proudly and tall over the crouched form of another woman, on her knees. The kneeling girl appears to be naked, her prominent nipples casting a powerful outline on the screen. The tall girl points towards the floor, at which the kneeling girl turns around, pushes her head to the floor and raises her backside high into the air. Emerging from the shadow of the standing woman’s leg comes some kind of many tongued whip, which she dramatically raises high into the air, before jerking it down hard onto the flagellated girl’s proffered rear. A distant cry of pain can be heard, and the kneeling girl writhes on her knees, only to be thrashed again and again by the domineering woman.

Nearby a great set of double doors stands raised upon a flight of steps. A long cord ringing bell is set near the doors.

Do you?

Run for the gates – this place is too weird for you! Turn to page 2.
Continue to watch the shadowy women and their bizarre ceremony? Turn to page 3.
Throw a stone at the window, to attract the women’s attention? Turn to page 4.
Walk up the steps and pull the bell cord? Turn to page 5.

Page 2

You dash for the gates, running as fast as you can. Alas, the gates appear to have closed silently behind you. Frantically you search for a way out until you calm yourself and think rationally. You’ve broken down … there’s nowhere to go but here anyway!

By the time you return to the house the women in the window have vanished. The only way now is through the front doors. Turn to page 5.

Page 3

You watch as the woman continues to beat the other. Over a dozen strokes of the many tongued whip seem to kiss the girl’s bottom, eliciting a small cry at each stroke. At one point, the whipped girl’s bottom seems to shrink away from the whip. Calmly, her punisher reaches out with her hand to steady the girl’s bum, only to whip down again, with apparently greater strength.

Eventually the beating stops. The woman with the whip barks a command and extends her hand. The kneeling woman rises from her position to kiss it. After the kiss, she is slapped round the face by her tormentor, and seems to crawl away. The woman turns to face the window, and in a blaze of light the screen rises away. Although the backlight makes it difficult to see clearly, you make out the form of a strong, athletic looking woman, wearing some kind of black uniform.

She has seen you. You are mortified with embarrassment at being caught, and quickly dash to the main door.

Turn to page 5.

Page 4

You throw a stone towards the window, perhaps hoping to alleviate the poor woman’s suffering. You are successful at getting their attention, the clacking stone causing the standing woman to stop mid-whipping. The screen by the window immediately retracts up into the ceiling, revealing the curious montage of an angry woman clad in black leather, and the naked girl, still on hands and knees, her bum up thrust and marked with numerous welts.

“What is the meaning of this interruption?” barks the woman angrily at you.

What do you do?

Ask her why she is beating the girl? Turn to page 6.
Squeak in shock at being discovered and run for the main door? Turn to page 5.

Page 5

Swallowing nervously you climb the stairs and ring the bell. You wait in the soaking dark for several minutes before the door is finally opened. A strong, weather-worn woman in her fifties opens the door. She wears the clothing of a cook, her apron stained with sauces and flat clumps of flour. She looks you up and down and nods.

“Well, are you going to stand there all night? I expect you’ll want to come in?” she barks, making room for you to enter.

You thank her for letting you in, your soaking body making puddles on the marble floor. You have entered the foyer of a grand mansion, with dark, gothic paintings of the former owners stretching down the long hallway. A great staircase dominates the hall, red-velvet furniture visible upon the landing. You ask the cook if you can have use of a phone.

“Phone? No phones here,” she grunts dismissively. “The Master disapproves of them, so no one has one. Look at the mess you’re making in the hall! I don’t suppose it ever occurred to you to carry an umbrella?” The cook turns away from you, shutting the main doors behind you heavily. “Linda!” she roars aloud.

Moments later, an attractive girl in her early twenties comes scurrying down the stairwell, dressed in a filthy maid’s outfit, stained with dirt and grease. She performs a quick curtsy, keeping her eyes low to the floor. “Yes, Mrs. Kent?” she mews.

“Clean this mess up – the Master will have our guts for garters if he sees this,” commands the chef.

Immediately the girl drops to her hands and knees and begins to slurp at the puddles, formed by the rain dripping from your body, with her tongue. You gasp in surprise.

“The Master’s punishment,” explains Mrs. Kent. “Cleaning Sluts have good chances for advancement, but have to be kept in their place.”

You feel a pang of guilt, Linda’s work increases with every passing second as water drips from your hair and clothes. You ask if you couldn’t help her somehow?

The chef shrugs. “Taking your clothes off would stop you dripping all the way down the corridor. I’m sure she’d appreciate that. You could also help her by licking up your own mess. No mops allowed while Linda’s on duty I’m afraid – Master’s orders.”

What do you do?

Offer to remove your clothes? Turn to page 8.
Offer to lick up the puddles you are making with Linda? Turn to page 9.
Offer to do both? Turn to page 10.
Refuse to do either? Turn to page 11.

Page 6

Although it is hard to make out her features, it is impossible to miss the look of outrage upon the punishing woman’s face. “What business is it of yours?”

“I don’t think its right that she be beaten!” you insist hotly, refusing to cow to her booming voice. “She can’t have done anything that bad!”

The woman smiles slyly. “Around here, the only way to stop a punishment is to offer to take it yourself. Well? Will you offer to do such a thing for a girl you’ve never met?”

What do you do?

Do you agree to be beaten in the girl’s stead? Turn to page 7.
Otherwise you could mutter your excuses and dash to the main door. Turn to page 5.

Page 7

The woman smiles with undiluted pleasure. “Very well, visitor. Clarissa! You are spared! Crawl out of here, and never forget to dust above the wardrobes again!”

“Yes, mistress,” squeaks the beaten girl, who crawls out of sight before you even get the chance to see her face.

The woman turns to you. “You shall meet me tomorrow at ten o’clock in the morning. As you have not yet entered the house, I can’t force you, but I shall rely on your sense of honour to attend my chambers. Ask for Miss. Rose – I expect the other girls will know where you can find me.”

The woman turns away, but before leaving the room her voice carries over to you. “And do not think your interruption shall go unpunished!”

Record the word APPOINTMENT.

With the woman now out of sight, your only choice is to go to the main doors. Turn to page 5.

Page 8

Gingerly you remove your coat and shoes, still dripping with rainwater and pass them to Mrs. Kent, who hangs your coat on a nearby stand. Your thin summer coat provided you with little protection, and you are still soaked to the skin. Shivering, you begin to peel off your top, which has almost stuck to your skin. Mrs. Kent and Linda are eager to help, and swiftly pull off your top, Linda making a start on your skirt, which is soon around your legs.

“Everything off, I think,” suggests Mrs. Kent, eyes flashing as she considers your bra. “It’s not respectful to bring damp clothes into the Master’s house.”

Your opinion is not sought, and soon hands are tugging at your underwear. Mrs. Kent unclasps your bra in a suspiciously smooth action, watching carefully as your youthful breasts spring free. If you have the Trait ‘Busty’ you see Mrs. Kent’s eyes sparkle with delight as she surveys your generous tits -

Your knickers are dragged down your legs, somewhat amorously by Linda, who not accidentally runs her tongue down your thigh, knee and calf as she pulls. Mrs. Kent catches her in the act, dealing a ringing slap to her cheek.

“Back to work you naughty slut!” barks Mrs. Kent, as Linda whimpers away, going back to her passionate licking of the floor puddles.

“Well, that will help somewhat,” concedes Mrs. Kent. “Let’s get you down to the kitchen, shall we? Warm you up a bit?”

Shivering in your nudity, you follow Mrs. Kent, pondering how readily you stripped at her command. You feel nervous and insecure in your naked state, and must reduce your Willpower by 1, as you feel you have already submerged your will to almost the first person you’ve met!

Turn to page 12.

Page 9

Stamping off as much water as possible, and hanging your coat on the rack, you crouch down on your hands and knees with Linda next to the large puddle of water you have made. Mrs. Kent watches silently as you extend your tongue and begin to lap. The polish on the floor lends the water a bitter taste, and you have to concentrate hard not to gag. If you have a Willpower of 2 or less you cannot continue, and refuse to lend further help - Turn to page 11.
Otherwise read on.

The puddle soon begins to shrink as you slurp, suck and lap. Soon the pool is so small that Linda’s face is almost pressed up against yours, and your tongues entwine to catch the last drops of water. The action sends a shiver of delight down you, but at a cough from Mrs. Kent you rise and quickly stand in your still soggy clothing.

“Well, that will help somewhat,” concedes Mrs. Kent. “Let’s get you down to the kitchen, shall we? Warm you up a bit?”

You smile, and flash a wink at Linda. However, the story of how you crouched down and licked up a puddle of your own rain water will spread through the house, immediately setting people’s minds as to your submissive nature. Reduce your Ambition score by 1, as many people will now struggle to take you seriously.

Turn to page 12.

Page 10

Gingerly you remove your coat and shoes, still dripping with rainwater and pass them to Mrs. Kent, who hangs your coat on a nearby stand. Your thin summer coat provided you with little protection, and you are still soaked to the skin. Shivering, you being to peel off your top, which has almost stuck to your skin. Mrs. Kent and Linda are eager to help, and swiftly pull off your top, Linda making a start on your skirt, which is soon around your legs.

“Everything off, I think,” suggests Mrs. Kent, eyes flashing as she considers your bra. “It’s not respectful to bring damp clothes into the Master’s house.”

“Back to work you naughty slut!” barks Mrs. Kent, as Linda whimpers away, going back to her passionate licking of the floor puddles.

Now completely naked, you crouch down on your hands and knees with Linda next to the large puddle of water you have made, pressing your breasts against the cold marble floor. Mrs. Kent watches silently as you extend your tongue and begin to lap. The polish on the floor lends the water a bitter taste, and you have to concentrate hard not to gag. Your naked state re-enforces to you that it is really too late to back out now, and you press on.

The puddle soon begins to shrink as you slurp, suck and lap. Mrs. Kent seems mesmerised by the gentle swaying of your naked bum, as you crawl to different positions to get the best angle on the puddle. Soon the pool is so small that Linda’s face is almost pressed up against yours, and your tongues entwine to catch the last drops of water. The action sends a shiver of delight down you, but at a cough from Mrs. Kent you rise and quickly stand, your breasts bouncing softly from the action.

“Well, that will help enormously,” concedes Mrs. Kent. “Let’s get you down to the kitchen, shall we? Warm you up a bit?”

You smile, and flash a wink at Linda. However, the story of how you crouched down naked and licked up a puddle of your own rain water will spread through the house, immediately setting people’s minds as to your submissive nature. Reduce your Ambition score by 2, as many people will now struggle to take you seriously. However the pleasure you have taken in this act of total obedience is not feigned. Add 1 to your Submission attribute. You also gain 1 Fame point, as your voluntary naked lapping will soon become a household story.

Turn to page 12.

Page 11

“I’ll do no such thing!” you bark, appalled. “I’m no servant! I’m a guest! I suggest you treat me as such!”

Mrs. Kent raises an eyebrow sardonically. “Don’t worry. I shall. This way, your highness. Let’s get you into the kitchen shall we?”

Mrs. Kent marches off, with you following shortly behind. Shaking her head at your stubbornness, Linda gets back work on the floor, slurping and lapping loudly.

Turn to page 12.

Page 12

You soon arrive in the kitchen, a large, almost medieval affair, obviously designed for lots of cooks. The place is clean and warm, a roaring fire providing plenty of heat. Mrs. Kent indicates a stool for you to sit on by the open blaze, and kindly presents you with a bowl of warm soup which you hungrily wolf down.

You talk with the chef, explaining your predicament, how you need a phone, or a mechanic, or something so you can get back home. Throughout your discussion the occasional member of staff wonders in, some retrieving food and supplies, others dropping off messages and orders for Mrs. Kent, such that you have the impression you don’t have her full attention.

Mrs. Kent nods sadly at the conclusion of your story. “Wish I could help – but the Master deals with all of that. You’ll have to ask him.”

You consider this, and ask when you can see the Master. The chef laughs. “No one just sees the Master! You have to be summoned. Don’t worry. I’m sure he’ll see you soon enough. A new girl is always enough to attract his attention. I’ll put you up for the night, but tomorrow you’ll have to work for your board, and work hard. You can start here in the kitchen to begin with, but I warn you – I don’t tolerate slackers!”

You laugh, and explain that you already have a job.

“That’s outside the mansion, not inside it,” grins the chef. “I reckon you’re stuck here until the Master is kind enough to help you. I see you’ve finished your soup. In that case we’ll get your punishment over with and then I’ll find you a bed.”

You startle. “Punishment? What punishment?”

“For turning up at the house, without an appointment, making an awful mess on the floor, and any other misdemeanours you might have performed whilst you were here. The master expects me to punish troublesome new girls, and I don’t intend to let him down.” There is a steely edge to Mrs. Kent’s voice that suggests arguing with her may be pointless.

What do you do? Agree to be punished? Turn to page 15.
Refuse to be punished? Turn to page 13.
Bat your eyelids and plead for clemency? Turn to page 27.

Page 13

Mrs. Kent’s eyes narrow. “You don’t get a choice,” she growls. “In this house you obey the Master’s rules!” The chef towers over you. She cuts an impressive figure, strong and powerful. “While you are in his house, you shall submit to his authority.”

If you have an authority of 4 or less you whimper, and immediately back down. Turn to page 15.
Otherwise read on.

You begin to argue with Mrs. Kent, striking the most heroic pose you can muster, initially refusing to back down. Soon, however, you begin to get the impression that perhaps she has no choice. She is compelled to punish you under the Master’s rules.

You realise that you have very few options. It is pouring with rain, the car is broken – you are dependant on her good will, and the good will of the Master. But that doesn’t mean you won’t search for some concessions.

Do you have the codewords VOYER, INTERFERENCE, or UNHELPFUL? If so Turn to page 14.
Otherwise you realise you cannot make this woman back down, and consent to her punishment. Turn to page 15.

Page 14

If you have the codeword UNHELPFUL, you have unnerved Mrs. Kent somewhat, and she will not award you additional punishment for refusing to help with the floor. Cross this codeword off your list.

If you have the codewords VOYER or INTERFERENCE and you have an Ambition score of 6, you are so intimidating that she dare not even issue extra punishment decreed by one of the mistresses of the house. Remove these codewords from your list.

Now Turn to page 15.

Page 15

Mrs. Kent smiles in undisguised relish at your eventual agreement. “Good,” she grins. “I warn you, though. This will be a proper thrashing. I mean to make your bum quite sore. You can impress me by good behaviour and holding still. I can’t bare stroppy, squirming girls who can’t keep still. First, let’s get you into position, shall we? I don’t want you getting cold, my dear, so why don’t we use that stool by the fire that you’re sitting on. Stand up, turn around, and bend over the stool, gripping the front legs with your hands. Now, please!”

You swallow. This woman wants to beat you on your bottom like a disobedient school girl! Somehow, within you, you realise that this is a pivotal moment in your time here. You have already agreed to be punished – can you really back up now?

You stand up, Mrs. Kent eying you the whole time. You turn and face the fire, the heat oppressive and blasting against your face. You look down at the humble wooden stool which is about to become your whipping post. Trembling, you press your hips to the stool and bend right over, gripping the wooden legs in front of you for support as your backside blossoms into a full moon above you. The blood rushes to your head, and your long hair sweeps the floor in front of you.

If you are still wearing clothes you feel Mrs. Kent walking up behind you. With a rough, graceless motion, she tugs your skirt and knickers down to your ankles, and slaps your bottom with her spare hand as an after thought. Being stripped at the whipping stool like this is humiliating and you fight back the tears – you must reduce your Dignity by 1.

You must decide how you wish to handle your beating. You can decide to cry out at each stroke, if you wish. This will harden your resolve against your beating, but will not impress Mrs. Kent. If you wish to do this, you can raise your Willpower by 1 throughout the entire beating, and must If you wish to be as stoic as possible, and deny (as best you can) Mrs. Kent the pleasure of hearing you cry out keep your Willpower at its normal level and don’t

This will be your first ever beating in the manor house. Keep track of the number of strokes you are given, including any extras earned – it may have a bearing on your future career in the manor.

“Now,” says Mrs. Kent breezily, “let’s consider the proper implement for your correction.”

Your stomach turns as you watch the chef move to a side cupboard. Hanging above the flour and raising agents hangs a large, wooden paddle, a fierce looking two tongued tawse, and an old fashioned school cane.

Mrs. Kent begins to muse loudly. “Which is the correct tool for the job, I wander?”

Do you have the trait ‘Lust for the Cane’? If so you must immediately Turn to page 16.
If not, read on.

Do you have a Dignity score of 3 or more? If so Turn to page 17.
If not, read on.

After a few more moments, Mrs. Kent turns to examine you with a look of distaste. “A cheep slut like you doesn’t deserve anything special,” she surmises with contempt. Turn to page 19.

Page 16

Almost without thinking you blurt out. “Please, miss? What about the cane?”

What were you thinking? You’ve never been caned in your life! Mrs. Kent considers the cane, and then your naked bottom thoughtfully.

“A rather severe instrument for a first punishment – but since you asked so nicely…”

Turn to page 20.

Page 17

After a few more moments, Mrs. Kent turns to examine you thoughtfully. “A well brought up girl like you can make up her own mind,” she decides. “Well, what’s it to be? Paddle, tawse, or cane?”

Which do you choose? The heavy wooden paddle – Page 18 The two tongued tawse – Page 19 The old school cane – Page 20

Page 18

Mrs. Kent shrugs, and takes the paddle down from the rack. “Fair choice,” she admits. “It sounds worse than it feels, the paddle. But a big girl like you should be able to take it. A dozen strokes, then, for arriving unannounced and making a mess in the Master’s hallway. Try to keep still, not too much moaning, and make sure you don’t touch your bum or break position! Otherwise I’ll repeat the strokes.”

You feel a cool wooden tap from the large paddle against your naked bottom. You suddenly realise just how vulnerable your bum is and shudder in anticipation.

You don’t have to wait long, moments later there is a loud crack and you are jerked forwards under the impact. For a moment you don’t feel anything, your bottom numbed by the stroke. Mere seconds later a fiery warmness blossoms over your bottom, accompanied by the most awful sting.

Crack! Another stroke impacts upon your bottom, and then another and another. You cannot help but grunt a little even if you vowed to make no noise.

Crack! Crack! Crack! The bombardment continues, Mrs. Kent leaving only a few seconds between each impact as your bottom reddens wildly.

If you have a Willpower of 2 or less you begin to buck and writhe under the heavy beating, culminating in an embarrassing moment where you leap to your feet, clutching your bottom. “That’s another six for that naughtiness! Get back down girl!” cries Mrs. Kent. Raise your Bum Status by 1 level.

The thrashing goes on and on, your eyes watering under the strain, the salty tears drying quickly in the close proximity of the kitchen fire. By the time she has finished your bottom feels ablaze. Raise your Bum Status by 2 levels.

Still clutching the stool, you watch as Mrs. Kent makes her way back to the cupboard and hangs up the paddle. You shudder in alarm as you see her take down the two tongued tawse, and consider the implement lovingly in her hands.

“Now … are you due any other punishment, I wonder..?” she muses aloud.

If you have the codeword UNHELPFUL Turn to page 21.
If you have the codeword VOYER Turn to page 22.
If you have the codeword INTERFERENCE Turn to page 23.
If you have the codeword WHIMPER Turn to page 24.
Otherwise Turn to page 26.

Page 19

Mrs. Kent takes down the tawse, and strokes the leathery tongues between her fingers lovingly. “Ah! The tawse … my favourite for disciplining young, disobedient bottoms. I’m something of an expert with this implement, so I’m sure you’ll appreciate its application. Let’s have those legs apart, girl! The tawse appreciates a well spread target!”

Groaning, you open your legs wider, realising how much this must expose you to this stranger’s gaze.

“A dozen strokes, then, for arriving unannounced and making a mess in the Master’s hallway,” declares Mrs. Kent grandly. “Try to keep still, not too much moaning, and make sure you don’t touch your bum or break position! Otherwise I’ll repeat the strokes.”

You have little time to take in these rules before the tawse strikes! Snap! You feel an urgent burning sensation across you bottom, as the twin straps bounce off your bum skin to leave two bright red track lines.

The sting in your bum is still rising when you are struck again! Snap! You jerk your bum up from the pain and impact, a small chuckle audible from Mrs. Kent, as she whips the tawse down again…

Snap! Snap! Your bum begins to redden heavily as Mrs. Kent, spurred on by the sheer joy of using her favourite punishment device, amuses herself watching your backside clench and redden.

If you have a Willpower of 3 or less you begin to buck and writhe under the heavy beating, culminating in an embarrassing moment where you leap to your feet, clutching your bottom. “That’s another six for that naughtiness! Get back down girl!” cries Mrs. Kent. Raise your Bum Status by 1 level.

If you have the trait Welts Nicely, Turn to page 25.
If not, read on.

You clutch your stool, bottom burning above you. Mrs. Kent waits patiently for you to get your breath back before continuing.

“Now … are you due any other punishment, I wonder..?” muses Mrs. Kent aloud.

Page 20

Mrs. Kent laughs cruelly as she reaches up for the cane. “Silly girl,” she taunts. “The cane is the worst implement of all. It practically slices into your bum – stings like the devil! Still, you can’t go back now.”

You shiver at this revelation, pondering your helpless buttocks as they tremble in the air above you. What state will they be in when Mrs. Kent’s cane is through with them?

You freeze as you feel the slim wood press itself against the centre point of your bum cheeks, Mrs. Kent carefully taking aim.

She taps the cane several times against your buttocks. Each time it is removed, you fear that it shall come slicing down upon you. Mrs. Kent chuckles as she observes your distress. “You have every right to be worried,” she admits. “The cane shall sere you to your very soul, your bum will be in agony by the end of the set. Still, I think I’ve made you wait long enough…”

At that the cane is pulled away. There is a whooshing sound as it sails through the air back towards its target…

Vip!

You cry out involuntarily as the cane stings into your bum flesh, immediately causing you to jerk and writhe. Mrs. Kent considers this impromptu dance for a few moments before striking again.

Vip! A second bright red stripe cuts into your bottom, crossing over the first. Mrs. Kent is whipping you full force, and your trembling, blazing buttocks are alight with pain.

Vip! Vip! Mrs. Kent continues the caning without mercy, despite the tears pouring from your eyes to pool on the floor before you.

If you have a Willpower of 4 or less you begin to buck and writhe under the heavy caning, culminating in an embarrassing moment where you leap to your feet, clutching your bottom in agony. “That’s another six for that naughtiness! Get back down girl!” cries Mrs. Kent. Raise your Bum Status by 2 levels.

The thrashing goes on and on, your bum a criss-cross pattern of angry, burning weals. By the time she has finished your bottom feels wickedly ablaze. Raise your Bum Status by 4 levels.

If you have a Dignity of 5 or more, you stoically hold back the tears. Although she says nothing, Mrs Kent is impressed with your fortitude. Add 1 Fame point, as Mrs. Kent is sure to spread tales of your fortitude under the cane to the rest of the manor.

Still clutching the stool, you watch as Mrs. Kent makes her way back to the cupboard and hangs up the cane. You shudder in alarm as you see her take down the two tongued tawse, and consider the implement lovingly in her hands.

“Now … are you due any other punishment, I wonder..?” she muses aloud.

Page 21

“Ah, yes!” she remembers, eyes sparkling with righteous vengeance. “I believe you were not interested in helping when you wet the floor earlier. Rather priggish of you, wasn’t it? I believe another dozen on your bare bottom with my tawse should put you right, and make you less inclined to surly and ungrateful behaviour in the future.”

You groan in misery, but cannot find the strength within yourself to resist this unfair decree.

Mrs. Kent runs the tawse’s long leather straps through her hands absent mindedly as she considers your already glowing bottom. “I think we’ll make this a still beating. So none of that ghastly wriggling you were doing earlier or you’ll receive repeats. Understood?”

“Yes … yes, Mrs. Kent,” you mutter, unable to believe that your bum is due even more punishment.

Your disbelief is quickly dispelled with a hideous snap, as your punisher sweeps the twin-tailed tawse across your buttocks, causing the bruised hams to ignite painfully. You try to keep rock still, desperate to avoid more repeats.

Snap! Snap! Snap! The brutal regimen continues, your bum blistering under the assault. Broad red strap marks stain your bottom a brilliant red, the twin straps creating livid rail tracks on your suffering behind.

Snap! Snap!

If your Dignity score is 3 or lower you cannot help but clench and dance your buttocks madly under the onslaught. Not caring about the spectacle you are making, you churn your bum cheeks in a frenzied dance as Mrs. Kent whips down ever harder. “I warned you, slut,” spits the enraged chef. “No wriggling! Six extra strokes for your lack of discipline!” Mrs. Kent is true to her word, and cracks her tawse down hard half a dozen times onto your squirming buttocks. Raise your Bum Status by 1 level.

You groan through drooling lips as Mrs. Kent lathers the last six strokes of your punishment across your sore backside, which now blazes with a fiery intensity. Raise you Bum Status by 3 levels.

You slump helplessly over the stool, wincing as you feel Mrs. Kent stroke your smoking behind with her spare hand. “Mmn … nice and hot! You must be feeling jolly sore now, eh?”

A slap to your striped buttocks elicits a response from you. “Yes, Mrs. Kent…”

“No more laziness in future, then – learn your lesson well,” she pontificates shamelessly. “Now, are you due any more I wonder..?”

If you have the codeword VOYER Turn to page 22.
If you have the codeword INTERFERENCE Turn to page 23.
If you have the codeword WHIMPER Turn to page 24.
Otherwise Turn to page 26.

Page 22

“Oh, yes!” crows Mrs. Kent, slapping your aching buttocks with her free hand. “I received a note during your interminable story earlier. Apparently you were peeking at a disciplinary session without permission. Don’t try to deny it – unless you want extras.”

You startle – who could have seen you staring up at the window? Are there spies everywhere in this place?

Mrs. Kent laughs. “Nevermind – I can’t really blame you for your curiosity. Might have done the same thing myself. Six strokes should suffice as a light punishment, although I won’t be laying them on lightly, that’s for sure!”

You swallow as you feel Mrs. Kent move her hand from your bottom and step into position behind you. Your bum is already so sore … can you really take any more?

Snap! You are given little opportunity to find out, as Mrs. Kent cracks the tawse down hard upon your trembling buttocks, a whimper escaping your lips as the sting in your bum re-ignites.

Snap! Snap!

If your Submission score is 3 or less the unfairness of the beating agitates you. Your backside is so stingy you feel as if you can’t take any more. Halfway through your set you attempt to rise, covering your buttocks from the blows, only to be shoved back over your stool hard by the powerful Mrs. Kent. “You don’t rise until I say so, slut!” she spits. “And keep your hands in front of you. You get six extra!” Raise your Bum Status by 1 level.

Snap! Snap! Snap! Your punishment is over in a thrice, but your backside feels scalding. Raise your Bum Status by 2 levels.

You cling to your stool like a shipwrecked sailor, shaking and trembling as you consider the blazing heat in your bottom above you. The heat of the fire – or perhaps just the heat of the beating – has drenched you in sweat, which cloys your hair and drips down your shivering thighs.

“I wonder,” muses Mrs. Kent, “if you can be due any more..?”

If you have the codeword WHIMPER Turn to page 24.
Otherwise Turn to page 26.

Page 23

“Oh, yes!” crows Mrs. Kent, slapping your aching buttocks with her free hand. “I received a note during your interminable story earlier. Apparently you interrupted a disciplinary session without permission. Felt sorry for the girly on the receiving end, did you? Big mistake!”

You should have known you were going to suffer for that. The cruel, punishing mistress didn’t look like the kind of woman to cross.

Mrs. Kent laughs. “This is a rather serious matter, but I’m inclined to go easy on you. A dozen strokes of the tawse should make you less inclined to interfere in future.”

You swallow as you feel Mrs. Kent move her hand from your bottom and step into position behind you. Your bum is already so sore … can you really take any more?

Snap! You are given little opportunity to find out, as Mrs. Kent cracks the tawse down hard upon your trembling buttocks, a whimper escaping your lips as the sting in your bum re-ignites.

Snap! Snap! Mrs. Kent laughs as she observes your struggle, your crimsoning arse is beginning to blister from its heavy punishment, raised white marks turning purple decorate your backside.

Snap! Snap! Snap!

If your Submission score is 4 or less the unfairness of the beating agitates you. Your backside is so stingy you feel as if you can’t take any more. Halfway through your set you attempt to rise, covering your buttocks from the blows, only to be shoved back over your stool hard by the powerful Mrs. Kent. “You don’t rise until I say so, slut!” she spits. “And keep your hands in front of you. You get six strokes for your defiance!” Raise your Bum Status by 1 level.

Snap! Snap! Snap! You have quite lost count of the number of times the battering tawse paints your bum, though the beating feels like it stretches on for an eternity. By the time Mrs. Kent has finished with you, your backside feels scalding. Raise your Bum Status by 3 levels.

“I wonder,” muses Mrs. Kent, “if you can be due any more..?”

If you have the codeword WHIMPER Turn to page 24.
Otherwise Turn to page 26.

Page 24

Mrs. Kent regards you sternly. “That concludes your official punishment … but I’m awarding you six extra for the appalling noise you were making throughout your beating! I don’t mind the odd cry or grunt – in fact I relish it: it means my weapon is doing good work. But you have quite abused the privilege – so six extra!”

You can hardly believe that this woman still wants to whip you after all you’ve been through, but what little resistance you had has been thrashed out of you, and you mutely agree to the extra set with an upthrust of your bruised buttocks.

“A well beaten backside is a delicious thing,” taunts Mrs. Kent, raising her fierce tawse. “This dessert is much to my liking…”

Snap! Snap! Two quick strokes catch you off guard, and have you wailing louder than ever, to the sadistic chuckles of Mrs. Kent.

Snap! Snap!

If your Willpower is 3 or less, you begin to sob and shudder under your beating, your will utterly cracked. Realising you are lost in a world of your own Mrs. Kent gleefully thrashes your bum well past the agreed six. You can only groan in despair as the wicked woman takes advantage of your delirious state, whipping you a further six times. Raise your Bum Status by 2 levels.

Your blistered backside writhes under the torment of the tawse, Mrs. Kent, realising the end is near puts her full strength behind each strike, your bum blazing with every stroke she paints upon your sizzling behind. Raise your Bum Status by 2 levels.

Quivering and exhausted, you clutch onto the stool heaving with sobs as Mrs. Kent admires her handywork.

“Marvellous,” she surmises as she examines your fiery rear end. “But I wonder, is your punishment now complete?”

Turn to page 26.

Page 25

Mrs. Kent admires her work on your beaten backside with shining eyes. “My goodness! What a thrashable bum you have! We can’t leave this tawsing at a paltry dozen … it would be a crime … against art.”

You object, crying out that it is unfair to beat you extra just because your bum looks nice with a few bruises.

“Listen, my girl, I want to offer you a deal. Let me deliver another dozen stingers onto your bum, and I’ll let you have a reward! It’s a pot of ointment I use when the mistresses are displeased with me and give me a taste of the cane. Rub them onto your welts and you’ll barely feel a thing by morning. That’s got to be worth a few more strokes, surely?”

What do you do? If you want to refuse, reTurn to page 19.
where you left off, and continue reading. Otherwise, read on…

“Alright! Alright … just please be gentle…” you moan.

“Fat chance of that!” cries Mrs. Kent in triumph. “I want to see just how red and shiny I can make that gorgeous bottom of yours! You’ve agreed now, you can’t go back on your word…”

You grip on tightly to the stool as the wicked chef, licking her lips in anticipation, returns to her tawsing position, eyes fixed upon your already hotly burning bottom.

Snap! Your bottom bounces under the impact of a delicious stroke, the straps of the tawse indenting themselves into your bum flesh, before departing to leave a hideous sting.

Snap! Another stroke, unhurried but strong, raises the temperature even more.

Snap! Pause. Snap! Pause. Snap! Mrs. Kent continues the leisurely beating of your defenceless bum cheeks, relishing each stroke as if savouring a delicious meal. The steady, agonising blaze in your bum is unlike the brutal stokes before it – the terrible inevitability of the slow strokes is intensely trying, almost as if Mrs. Kent is daring you to break and recoil.

If your Willpower is 4 or less you are unable to endure the pitiless torment of your slow beating. You shudder, cry out and jerk, making a pitiful display of yourself, and revealing your most private areas to the amused Mrs. Kent, who awards you six extra strokes for not keeping still. You must reduce your Dignity by 1, and raise your Bum Status by 1 level.

Eventually, your lips quivering with drool, and your face streaked with tears, Mrs. Kent finishes her pleasure, the twelfth stroke almost knocking you from your stool with the impact. Raise you Bum Status by 3 levels.

Mrs. Kent seems almost rooted to the spot as she admires your flaming bum, now brightly decorated with a criss-cross of scarlet weals.

“My goodness, dear – truly you are a work of art,” sighs Mrs. Kent, still transfixed upon your bottom, “the master shall be pleased with you. In any case, I promised you a reward…”

Opening another cupboard she takes down a pot of white, cool looking ointment. You wish you had the opportunity to rub some on to your scalding bum cheeks now, but you suppose you shall have to wait for your punisher’s permission to rise first.

To your dismay, however, Mrs. Kent does not replace the tawse, but instead fiddles with the straps between your fingers, still warm from their work on your smouldering behind.

The ointment is a very useful item, note it down on your sheet under your Traits. From now on, whenever you are asked to reduce your Bum Status due to a night’s rest, you can reduce your bum status by an extra level thanks to the application of the ointment onto your sore bottom.

“Now … are you due any other punishment, I wonder..?” muses Mrs. Kent aloud.

Page 26

“No,” concedes Mrs. Kent, at last replacing the tawse, “I believe that is everything. Do you feel properly corrected, young lady?”

Your arse burning red and raw, your head flushed from hanging upside down so long, you mumble to the positive.

“Good,” nods the chef, smug and self satisfied at the work she has carried out on your bottom.

Mrs. Kent is bound to spread gossip about your first punishment in the house. How will this affect your fame?

Count the number of strokes you were issued, including repeaters, and discover how much fame you acquire:

Up to 24 strokes – 0 fame points. Up to 48 strokes – 1 fame point. Up to 78 strokes – 2 fame points. 84 strokes – 4 fame points. (If you forgot to count you get nothing…)

“You may rise, girl,” says Mrs. Kent imperiously.

You groan as you stagger to your feet. You put your hands to your bum and wince painfully. Mrs. Kent certainly didn’t hold back. Twisting round you see the bright red marks inflicted on your bottom. Somehow … as well as ashamed … you feel proud that you managed to take everything Mrs. Kent had to throw at you.

“Come,” she says briskly, after all the kitchen equipment is tidied away. “You must be tired. You’ll need your sleep – you have a long day ahead of you tomorrow.”

Turn to page 28.

Page 27

Do you have the Codeword BUSTY? If not Mrs. Kent proves immune to your charms and you are forced to accept punishment. Turn to page 15.
If you have the codeword BUSTY, read on.

Mrs. Kent’s eyes flick to your generous, naked breasts. Indeed, she has scarcely been able to take her eyes off them since you stripped for her in the hallway.

“Perhaps … your punishment might be forgotten … if you promised to be very, very nice to me…” muses Mrs. Kent, openly ogling your charms.

“How nice, exactly?” you ask, stammering slightly.

Mrs. Kent places a single hand upon your shoulder and circles around you, her body shielding you from the heat of the fire. Without further permission, she scoops your breasts into both hands, clutching strongly upon your tits, slippery with sweat, scissoring your nipples between her fingers.

“Ouch!” you cry out, at the sharp pain she inflicts.

“Silence, you big-titted whore!” she swears, her grip never faltering. “Unless you want the thrashing of your life, you will do exactly as I please. You have no rights here!”

If you wish you can beg to be punished rather than put up with any more of this indignity. If so, Turn to page 15.
If not, read on.

You whimper and groan as Mrs. Kent plays roughly with your boobs. She tweaks and pulls your nipples hard, making you groan. She bounces your breasts heavily, and crushes them between her firm hands, causing you to wince. Lose 1 Dignity point.

The chef seems to get increasingly excited, rubbing her hips into yours as she squeezes. “You teasing slut…” she hisses excitedly as you groan at your rough treatment. “Tonight you are my bitch! On your knee’s bitch! It’s time to pleasure your mistress!”

Despite her roughness and lack of grace, some part of you yearns to submit to this outrageous woman more than twice your age. But your middle class upbringing rebels against being used so crudely…

If your Submission score is 2 or less, you cannot bring yourself to submit, and instead plead to accept your punishment. Turn to page 15.
Otherwise read on.

Mrs. Kent forces you to your knees with a heavy hand, and pushes your head into a bowed position. Striding confidently over to a drawer she produces a ball of tough string, normally used to tie joints of beef. Grabbing your hands behind you she roughly ties your hands behind your back wrapping many metres of string up and down your wrists to secure them tightly.

Thus secured, she returns to the draw and retrieves two clothes pegs, which she dangles before your terrified eyes, before latching them on to your nipples. You squeal at the sharp clamps, tossing your head left and right in a vague effort to control the pain as Mrs. Kent seats herself upon the stool you just vacated, opening her legs and thrusting a meaty hand into her knickers.

“Bounce, bitch!” she commands. “Bounce while I frig my self off!”

Securely tied and helpless you have no choice but to submit to the chef’s filthy desires. You begin to bounce on your bottom, causing your heavy breasts jump up and down like a pair of helium balloons. The pain in your nipples is excruciating, the heavy pegs jolting you at each downward bounce.

Mrs. Kent stares at your breasts transfixed, desperately scratching away at her pulsing clitoris, watching every bounce of your clamped boobs with a feverish, humourless intensity.

For five full minutes you are made to bounce, tears pouring from your eyes, until your tormentor collapses into a heaving orgasm. She groans out mightily in unadulterated pleasure, even as you sob from the pain in your sensitive nipples. Lose 1 Willpower and Authority point – as you will be haunted by this cruel humiliation for many weeks to come.

When she recovers, Mrs. Kent smartly snaps the clothing pegs from your nipples, causing you to sob in pain as the blood rushes back into them. “Nice tits,” she grunts. “At least your bum’s untouched, you should thank me.”

With Mrs. Kent towering above you, and you tied and weakened from your ordeal, you quickly defer to her lead. “Thank you, Mrs. Kent,” you moan, desperate to cradle your aching boobs.

Moments later Mrs. Kent retrieves a knife from the kitchen drawer, and cuts your bonds. You remain on your knees, seeking to avoid any further ‘favours’ Mrs. Kent might demand of you.

“Come,” she says briskly, after all the kitchen equipment is tidied away. “You must be tired. You’ll need your sleep – you have a long day ahead of you tomorrow.”

Turn to page 28.

Page 28

Mrs. Kent leads you to the basement dormitories where the rest of the kitchen staff sleep on sackcloth bedding. The staff, all girls in their twenties, sleep soundly, apparently exhausted from their day’s labours.

“Sleep there,” commands Mrs. Kent pointing to a pile of filthy sackcloths. “You shall be awoken at six to begin your first day…”

“Please,” you whimper, still suffering from your rough treatment. “I need to see the Master! My car…”

“No whining!” snaps Mrs. Kent, awakening a girl near you with her loud voice. “Or it will be a dozen strokes of the tawse!”

You acquiesce, exhausted, lying across your uncomfortable bedding on your side. Mrs. Kent nods and leaves you in the dark room, locking the door behind her.

“Don’t mind her – she’s rough on all new girls,” comes a soft voice from the darkness. In the dim light you can see the girl next to you, pretty beneath the charcoal grime that smears her face. She has rolled over to lie against you, her soft, warm body welcoming in the cold.

If you are naked you can raise your Willpower by 1, as you are fortified by the warmth and comfort of your neighbour.

“Thanks,” you say kindly. “But I need to get back to my car – I have work tomorrow…”

“You work for the Master now,” sooths the girl. “I’m Candy. I’ve worked in the kitchens for ages. Don’t worry, I’ll look after you…”

To your surprise she leans above you and gives you a soft kiss upon your mouth.

What do you do?

Object to Candy’s kiss and pull away? Turn to page 29.
Allow Candy to kiss you, but do not kiss her back? Turn to page 30.
Grab Candy’s head and thrust your tongue into her mouth in barely controlled passion? Turn to page 31.

Page 29

“I’m sorry, Candy, I’m simply not that kind of girl!” you insist firmly, pushing Candy from her spot on top of you.

Candy seems somewhat surprised, but backs off quickly. “Oh … sorry,” she apologises. “It’s just … traditional for the girls to comfort each other after a trying time with Mrs. Kent…”

“Well, it’s not my tradition!” you insist firmly.

Candy seems disappointed, but you feel more secure in yourself having so firmly taken control of the situation. Add 1 Dignity point.

With Candy now firmly on her own bed, you snuggle down to an exhausted sleep.

Turn to page 32.

Page 30

Candy gives you a long, languorous kiss, her tongue drifting across your teeth. She softly chews your bottom lip, and glides her hands across your thigh, up past your bottom, and to the swelling of your breasts.

Her fingers begin to dance across your nipples. If you have the codeword PEGGED you yelp in pain as she touches your sore nipples. Turn to page 29.
If not, read on.

You groan softly as her fingers swirl around you areola, gently brushing your now erect nipples as she continues her eternal kiss. Her hand is drifting down between your legs. Do you wish to put a stop to this before it goes any further? If so Turn to page 29.
If not, read on.

Her fingers nestle into your pubic mound. Soon she has touched the wetness of your sex, pushing her fingers deep into you, searching … pressing. Her thumb artfully brushes over your clitoris, and soon you are helpless in Candy’s power as she explores the most intimate reaches of your body. Gain 1 Submission point.

Candy softly strokes you into a bucking orgasm which tenses and then releases every part of your body. Reduce your Bum Status by 1 level.

In the afterglow, you hold the gentle Candy in your arms – feeling close and bonded to the passionate girl as you drift off to sleep.

Turn to page 32.

Page 31

The gentle Candy has awoken something fierce inside you. You grasp her head in your hands and press her lips to your own, thrusting your tongue deep into her mouth. Candy chokes, not expecting your passionate reaction.

You roll Candy onto her back, locking your teeth around her lower lip, and she obediently follows, not resisting your hands which push up her shirt and grab her ample breasts tightly.

Fed up of being on the receiving end in this place, you drag the willing Candy by the head down to your glistening sex lips, pressing her mouth against your mound, commanding her to tongue you to orgasm.

She obeys meekly, and you feel flushed with power. Add one to your Ambition score.

Candy slavishly tongues your needful clit until you explode into a shuddering orgasm. Your body relishes the release, soon forgetting any bottom injury you might have sustained. Reduce your Bum Status by 1 Level.

Exhausted, you collapse onto your bed. Despite your rough treatment of her, Candy snuggles into your arms, unwilling to be parted from her vigorous lover.

Turn to page 32.

Page 32

You awake in the morning much refreshed. Lower your Bum Status by 3 levels, and add 1 to any attribute of your choice. It is somewhat early – indeed, the first rays of sunshine are only now peeping through the basement window of your sleeping dormitory. You can see the other kitchen girls changing into scullery outfits, almost like a maid’s uniform, but filthier and covered in food stains.

Candy, out of politeness, takes you to the lockers where the spare uniforms are kept. The fit is rather snug and includes no underwear, the skirt only just covering your bottom. If you have the trait “Costume Roleplay” your Submission score will count as 10, regardless of its actual score, as long as you are wearing your kitchen maid’s outfit. If you are made to strip naked, your Submission score counts as normal.

You have barely finished dressing when a loud rumbling sound is heard from the door lock. The other girls quickly form a line by their beds, and, to your surprise, stand to attention by turning round and bending over, flipping their skirts into the smalls of their backs and gripping their knees.

“Quickly!” gasps Candy to you. “Bottom inspection!”

Fearing to be the only one not on parade you quickly join Candy, flipping up your skirt and grabbing your knees.

The heavy, frightened breaths of the girls echo through the dormitory as Mrs. Kent enters, her famous tawse gripped in her hand.

“Well girls,” she booms fearlessly as she marches up the parade line. “Let’s see who needs further treatment, shall we? You know I like my girls with rosy bottoms! Helps to keep their minds on the job.”

Mrs. Kent stops next to the quivering Candy, her arse somewhat unblemished and trembling. “Candy,” drools Mrs. Kent, patting her bottom. “You’ve always been a goody-two-shoes little slut. Wise girl. But don’t think I’ll make an exception, even for you…”

“No, Mrs. Kent,” shivers Candy – knowing what is about to follow.

Snap! Snap! Snap! Poor Candy jiggles in position as her bottom is lathered by the spiteful Mrs. Kent. Snap! Snap! Snap!

Six strokes is enough to leave her bottom glowing. She mumbles her thanks as Mrs. Kent passes on to you.

You feel her heavy hand upon you proffered bottom, examining it carefully. If your Bum Status is Unblemished, Turn to page 33.
If not, read on.

“I see you are nice and rosy from your punishment last night,” she boasts proudly. “I trust we can expect no further defiance from you, new girl?”

“No, Mrs. Kent,” you assure her, and she laughs heartily, smacking your left buttock heavily as she passes onto the next girl.

In all, three of the fifteen kitchen staff receive a top-up thrashing, their bottoms insufficiently blemished for Mrs. Kent’s liking. With her task complete she sends you packing. “Now get into that kitchen and start working, unless you want bottoms so sore you could fry an egg on them!”

“Yes, Mrs. Kent!” trill the girls, and you scatter with them into the waiting kitchen.

Turn to page 39.

Page 33

“A creamy white bum, we can’t have that!” roars Mrs. Kent, as if in outrage. “Obviously I have been far too lenient with you. Prepare yourself…”

Will you accept your beating? Turn to page 34.
Or has this silliness gone on long enough? Turn to page 35.

Page 34

Snap! Snap! You squeak as the tawse drives into your bum, squashing your cheeks, only to bounce away revealing a pair of bright red stripes.

Snap! Snap!

Is your Willpower less than 2? If so you break position, grasping your flaming bum cheeks with a pitiful whimper. Baring her teeth, Mrs. Kent snarls at you to bend back over, awarding you another half dozen strokes for your weakness. Raise your Bum Status by 1 level.

With a final flourish, Mrs. Kent batters your bum two more times with her tawse, leaving your previously soothed bottom aching and sore. Raise your Bum Status by 1 level. The very idea that Mrs. Kent is so willing to beat you at the slightest whim, even for the crime of not having a bruised bottom, strikes fear into your very soul. Reduce your Willpower by 1.

“I trust we can expect no further defiance from you, new girl?” snarls Mrs. Kent, the tawse draped over your aching buttocks.

“No, Mrs. Kent,” you assure her, and she laughs heartily, smacking your left buttock heavily as she passes onto the next girl.

“Yes, Mrs. Kent!” trill the girls, and you scatter with them into the waiting kitchen.

Turn to page 39.

Page 35

How will you avoid your coming beating?

If you have an Ambition score of 6 or more you can look her dead in the eye and try to cow her into submission. Turn to page 36.

If you have a Dignity score of 4 or more you can demand better treatment by virtue of your natural rank and privilege. Turn to page 37.

If you have the ‘Strong’ trait you can just try to grab her hand and stop the tawse coming down. Turn to page 38.

Otherwise you feel too cowed and disempowered to try anything, and must accept this most unfair of punishments. Turn to page 34.

Page 36

“Enough of this foolishness!” you roar, with a feral look in your eye that quite makes Mrs. Kent jump. “Punish these worthless sluts if you must, but I’ll not take a stroke unless I have done something wrong!”

Mrs. Kent looks shocked and swallows. “Well … you’re probably still sore from last night anyway…”

There is an awkward pause, the kitchen girls unsure of exactly what has happened.

Finally, Mrs. Kent recovers somewhat and addressed the assembled girls with more bravado. “Get into that kitchen and start working, unless you want bottoms so sore you could fry an egg on them!”

“Yes, Mrs. Kent!” trill the girls, and you stroll with them as they scatter into the waiting kitchen. Your cool dealing with Mrs. Kent will lend you some renown. Gain 1 Fame point.

Turn to page 39.

Page 37

“Don’t you know who I am?” you demand. “Don’t you know who my daddy is? When he finds out how you’ve been treating me he’s going to sue your arse off!”

Unfortunately Mrs. Kent seems wholly unimpressed. “Your ‘daddy’ whoever he is, holds no sway here. You are the Master’s slut now. Grab her girls!”

Eager to avoid punishment on their own bottoms, and a little aggrieved at you high and mighty attitude, the other girls pinion your limbs and bend you over, despite your struggles.

“A dozen strokes for you, your highness,” spits Mrs. Kent. “In my kitchen, all sluts are equally low…”

Snap! Snap! Snap! Your bum stripes and shudders under the impact of Mrs. Kent’s merciless tawse. Your only solace is that, held down and helpless, you cannot break position as she lashes your bare behind. Raise your Bum Status by 3 levels.

Raw and sobbing you are released by the girls. Desperate not to incur her further wrath you stay in position, your throbbing backside aching behind you. Lose 1 Dignity point.

“I trust we can expect no further defiance from you, new girl?” snarls Mrs. Kent, the tawse draped over your aching buttocks.

“No, Mrs. Kent,” you assure her, and she laughs heartily, smacking your left buttock heavily as she passes onto the next girl.

“Yes, Mrs. Kent!” trill the girls, and you scatter with them into the waiting kitchen.

Turn to page 39.

Page 38

You turn and catch Mrs. Kent by wrist, just as the tawse comes hurtling towards your bum. Locking her in a vice like grip you utter: “No! Only if I deserve it – this is unfair!”

Mrs. Kent looks shocked and swallows. “Well … you’re probably still sore from last night anyway…”

There is an awkward pause as you release her, the kitchen girls unsure of exactly what has happened.

Finally, Mrs. Kent recovers somewhat and addressed the assembled girls with more bravado. “Get into that kitchen and start working, unless you want bottoms so sore you could fry an egg on them!”

“Yes, Mrs. Kent!” trill the girls, and you stroll with them as they scatter into the waiting kitchen. Your cool dealing with Mrs. Kent will lend you some renown. Gain 1 Fame point.

Turn to page 39.

Page 39

The kitchen is soon roasting hot from the numerous ovens and open fires you are commanded to attend. The place feels almost medieval – no gas or electricity, just coal fired burners to make everything from bacon and eggs to porridge.

Everyone seems to know their place except you, yet you are desperate not to attract any more of Mrs. Kent’s ire. Even so, every so often, as you dither over where plates are kept, or you are too tardy keeping the fires going, Mrs. Kent delivers a scalding stroke to your bum cheeks with her tawse. After an hour your bum is already feeling sore. Raise your Bum Status by 1 level.

Do you have the codeword BONDED or BOUND? If so Turn to page 40.

The other girls show no willingness to help you, and as you continue to flounder around Mrs. Kent continues her swift attentions to your barely clad buttocks. Raise your Bum Status by 1 level. If you have the Weakness ‘Clumsy’, raise your bum Status by 2 Levels instead, as the frequent breakages and dropped sausages continue to enrage the chef.

As you are dragging more coal towards the oven you notice that Candy, the girl who sought your attention last night, has stacked a set of recently cooked scotch pancakes rather close to the edge of the table.

Do you…

Warn Candy that the pancakes are too near the edge? Turn to page 41.
Deliberately bump into Candy, just before Mrs. Kent turns around, so she spills the pancakes on the floor? Turn to page 42.

Page 40

Fortunately, Candy takes you in hand. Unwilling to see further damage to your delicious bottom, she happily shows you where things are, warns you about low fire levels, and advises you which surfaces to clean. Except for a few sneers Mrs. Kent seems unable to justify beating you further, and picks on some of her other staff.

As you are dragging more coal towards the oven you notice that Candy has stacked a set of recently cooked scotch pancakes rather close to the edge of the table.

Do you…

Warn Candy that the pancakes are too near the edge? Turn to page 41.
Deliberately bump into Candy, just before Mrs. Kent turns around, so she spills the pancakes on the floor? Turn to page 42.

Page 41

“Gosh! Thanks!” she gasps, moving the pancakes safely back up the table to a safer position.

“No problem,” you smile, glad to be able to repay her kindness somehow.

Turn to page 43.

Page 42

You smoothly ram Candy into her own pancakes, and she, and her pancakes, tumble to the floor with a crash.

“Clumsy, slut!” roars Mrs. Kent, brandishing her tawse. “Those were Mistress Jessica’s favourites! Get over that bench! Arse in the air!”

Candy looks desperately between you and Mrs. Kent. She bites her lip and submits. “Yes, miss!”

She struggles to the workbench and bends over, folding up her skirt with weary practice. Snap! Snap! Snap! The tawse cracks on her behind and she squeals out as her bum bounces under its unfair punishment. You watch mesmerised as Candy withers under the bombardment, her bum jumping, tears pouring from her desperate, innocent eyes.

If you have the trait ‘Sadistic’ you may add one point to any of your attributes as you take in poor Candy’s suffering.

If you have the codeword BONDED, cross it off. Candy thought you and she were friends, and she’ll never trust you again now.

If, however, you have the codeword BOUND, you have impressed upon Candy how ruthless a dominator you are. Candy stares into your eyes, pleadingly, lovingly as she is thrashed by Mrs. Kent, knowing full well it was your will that she be humiliated. Add the codeword CANDY.

Eventually, her arse blistered from the tawse, Candy is permitted to rise. She gazes meaningfully into your eyes as she moves on to her other work.

Turn to page 43.

Page 43

By half past nine all the breakfasts are complete, and you and the other kitchen girls are permitted to eat the scraps and leftovers brought back by the other house members. You tuck in easily, the throb in you buttocks slowly fading. Reduce your Bum Status by 1 level.

Do you have the codeword APPOINTMENT? If so, Turn to page 44.
Otherwise read on.

By ten o’clock it is time to prepare for lunch, and dormant fires must be relit and exotic foods prepared for the indulgent mistresses. Although you are getting more proficient in the kitchen, you inevitably make some mistakes, which the eagle-eyed Mrs. Kent quickly takes out on your bottom.

If you have the codeword BONDED or BOUND raise your Bum Status by 1 Level. If you do not have these codewords, raise your Bum Status by 2 Levels. If you have the codeword CANDY, however, do not alter your Bum Status. Although you make mistakes, the selfless and submissive Candy owns up to them all. Her backside is throbbing by the end of the day, but she seems satisfied enough knowing that she has suffered for you.

The evening brings another meal, and you are quite exhausted as you slave over stoves, wipe away grease and choke on cooking fumes. Even Mrs. Kent’s thrashings seem to slacken off as the long day draws to a close.

Turn to page 66.

Page 44

Halfway through your breakfast you remember your encounter with Miss. Rose, the woman you saw thrashing the girl in the window last night. You remember promising to take the girl’s place for a punishment at ten o’clock this morning. You rub your bottom already sore from Mrs. Kent’s attentions as you gaze up at the clock – it is ten minutes to ten o’clock.

Miss. Rose had also said that she could not force you to take her beating, that it was a matter for your own honour.

What will you do? Tactfully forget about your appointment and get back to work in the kitchen? Turn to page 45.
Or is your word your bond? In which case you had better make your appointment… Turn to page 46.

Page 45

Turn to page 66.

Page 46

You approach the chef, still gorging down her own breakfast of sausages, eggs and beans.

“Please, Mrs. Kent,” you curtsey. “I have an appointment with Miss. Rose at ten o’clock – may I be excused?”

Mrs. Kent eyes you heavily. “I know about the appointment. I was hoping for your sake you forgot about it. Look – you can change your mind, say I didn’t release you from work…”

The offer is tempting… Do you accept Mrs. Kent’s offer to cover for you and return to work? Turn to page 45.
Or do you insist on attending Miss. Rose? Turn to page 47.

Page 47

“Sorry, Mrs. Kent – but I gave my word of honour,” you say solemnly.

“Honour!” laughs Mrs. Kent. “Honour means nothing when your bum is being thrashed and you’re pleading for mercy that never comes. Evidently it’s a lesson I’ve not taught you yet. But very well, don’t say I didn’t warn you. Your appointment card is on my desk. Take it with you to the second floor. Miss. Rose’s apartment is the one with the black door. She’ll expect you to go right in…”

You retrieve the appointment card from the desk, and clutching it between trembling fingers, you leave the kitchen and return to the main hall.

As soon as you emerge from the kitchen you are challenged by a stern looking Steward, demanding to know what a kitchen slut is doing outside the basement. You present your appointment card and he startles.

“I’d best not detain you,” he says with a shaky voice. “Head up two flights of steps. The black door.”

You advance up the steps as confidently as possible. The sound of laughter, crying and sudden squeaks of pain echo from the many doors that flank the landing. The mansion seems unreal and large, parts of it looking medieval, others eighteenth century, and still other places as smooth and impersonal as an office block.

Miss. Rose’s apartment stands in a cluttered Victorian part of the manor. Cleaning slaves flitter past, looking at you curiously as you approach the imposing black door.

Swallowing you knock upon the door, and then go right in as instructed. The room is not occupied, but it is rather striking. The deep burgundy chamber is festooned in murals depicting naked woman in bondage and punishment. There is an oaken desk, a single bed tucked into a corner, and a simple whipping bar – little more than a horizontal wooden beam held in place by metal stands, with a lower bar at the bottom to grip onto.

There is a message on the table, marked for your attention, which you quickly scan. “Change into the clothing provided. Take the instrument of your correction from the table, and then kneel on the ground before the whipping bar, hands upon your head, the whip handle clenched between your buttocks.”

You look nervously about. On the bed you can see your clothing. It is a one piece leather basque, with holes missing for the breasts, backside and pussy to peep through. It is quite obscene.

If your Submission factor is not at least 3 then all this is too much for you, and you flee the room back to the ‘safety’ of the kitchen. Turn to page 65.
Otherwise, read on.

You cannot help but be drawn to the basque. It is designed specifically to humiliate the wearer, yet you can think of nothing except how you might look in it. Licking your lips you quickly strip off your kitchen uniform and tug on the basque, slipping your breasts through the holes as you do so. Securing it at the back is a difficult process, and you tug as hard as you can upon the ribbon fasteners to keep the article as tight as possible. Examining yourself in the mirror you gasp. You have never looked more bawdy, more sluttish in all your life. Your confidence saps as you consider that this will be Miss. Rose’s first real impression of you – an obscene harlot dressed in filthy clothes. Reduce your Dignity by 1 point. Also, if you have the weakness ‘I can’t wear that’, your Dignity score will be 1 as long as you wear the obscene basque.

You look carefully for the whip that is your due and quickly spot it. It is on the table, on its own special stand. The whip itself is striking, dozens of long strips of what looks like blood red rubber emit from the handle, which is black metal, covered in strange runes that almost seem to twist in dull lighting. The sight of the strange whip is unnerving and supernatural. If you do not have a Submission score of at least 4, the thought of being struck by this demonic instrument is terrifying to you – lose 1 Willpower point.

Gingerly you grasp the handle of the whip, the fronds seeming to hiss with glee as you take it into your hand. Not wanting to look at it, you obey your instructions and walk over to the bar, kneeling down in front of it. You rise up onto your knees, and reach around behind you, sliding the hilt of the whip into the crack of your behind. You clench you bum cheeks tightly around the hilt - the instrument is heavy, and your cheeks ache with the strain of keeping it in place. Finally you place your hands on your head as you wait for the mistress to arrive.

The wait is long – you remain in place, the instrument of your correction clamped between your trembling cheeks, for a full half an hour, until you begin to suspect that Miss Rose has forgotten you. Forgotten? Impossible – not after the elaborate preparations which have been laid out for you. Still, the wait is maddening.

If you do not have a Submission score of at least 5 your stomach churns and you tremble in fear as you consider the strict punishment due to you. Reduce your Willpower by 1.

Do you have the weakness Weak Bladder? If so, Turn to page 48.
If not, read on.

Finally, after what seems an age, your limbs aching with the strain, you hear the sound of clacking heels upon the wooden floor outside the door. You bite your lip and fortify yourself, straightening up as you hear the door opened smoothly, the cool air from outside washing over your exposed buttocks.

“So, you are a woman of honour after all?” says the voice of Miss. Rose, with some measure of surprise. You hear the door closed behind you heavily, making you jolt. “I must say, I had my doubts when I first saw you last night. You looked a cringing, pathetic little thing, who looked like she would jump at her own shadow. Perhaps you do have some worth? We shall see…”

If you have the trait Blonde, Turn to page 49.
If not, read on.

Miss. Rose pulls the whip from between your bum cheeks, and you almost sigh in relief as your backside relaxes from its strain. You realise it is a temporary relief.

Turn to page 52.

Page 48

The long wait, the nerves, have built up an intolerable pressure in your bladder. Within the next two minutes you will have to empty yourself. But Miss. Rose has expressly forbidden you to move…

What do you do? Quickly dash from the room and try to find the toilets? Turn to page 50.
Obey your instructions and do not move? Turn to page 51.

Page 49

“My, what lovely blonde hair you have, my dear,” coos Miss. Rose menacingly. “I hate blonde girls. The ambitious sluts expect to be treated like princesses. I see I shall have to whip you particularly hard for this outrage…”

Miss. Rose is true to her word. Throughout your punishment with Miss. Rose whenever you are asked to raise your Bum Status, increase the number of steps by 1.

Miss. Rose pulls the whip from between your bum cheeks, and you almost sigh in relief as your backside relaxes from its strain. You realise it is a temporary relief.

Turn to page 52.

Page 50

You can’t possibly hold it in much longer! You dash out of the room, frantically searching for the toilets. But this isn’t a hotel, and the bathroom doors are not marked. You don’t dare enter the other rooms without permission … the sounds of groaning, laughing, and the snaps of leather on skin reinforcing to you that to enter a room uninvited would result in horrendous punishment.

You have no choice … you dash back to the kitchen where you know where the toilets are, the other girls sniggering at your change of costume, and relieve yourself with a groan. Lose 1 ambition point. You cannot bring yourself to return to Miss. Rose’s chambers, and reluctantly trudge back to the kitchens, after a quick change into a spare uniform.

Turn to page 65.

Page 51

You whimper in defeat as you accede to the inevitable and piss yourself all over Miss. Rose’s wood panelled flooring. Lose 1 Dignity point, but gain 2 Submission points for your dedication to your orders.

Droplets of piss are still dripping from your sex lips as you hear the door open behind you.

“So, you are a woman of honour after all?” says the voice of Miss. Rose, with some measure of surprise. You hear the door closed behind you heavily, making you jolt. “I see you’ve made yourself at home … naturally your lack of self control will be punished. First, you can lick up the filthy mess you’ve made in my home.”

If you do not have a submission score of at least 4, you cannot bring yourself to do it, and you flee the room and Miss. Rose, leaving her laughing coldly at your exit.
. Otherwise, read on:

“Yes, miss!” you whimper, mortified with embarrassment. You quickly break pose to crouch on hands and knees, keeping your bum cheeks locked upon the whip as you do, and begin to slurp at the warm puddle you have made, swallowing bitterly as Miss. Rose carefully watches your progress.

“I must say, I had my doubts when I first saw you last night,” smiles Miss. Rose, as you lap desperately at the shrinking puddle of urine. “You looked a cringing, pathetic little thing, who looked like she would jump at her own shadow. Perhaps you do have some worth? We shall see…”

Eventually, after several minutes of furious licking, Miss. Rose declares herself satisfied with your efforts, and commands you to resume position.

If you have the trait Blonde, Turn to page 49.
If not, read on.

At last Miss. Rose pulls the whip from between your bum cheeks, and you almost sigh in relief as your backside relaxes from its strain. You realise it is a temporary relief.

Turn to page 52.

Page 52

“Clarissa was due twelve strokes of my slut thrasher,” declares Miss. Rose with a new severity to her voice. “Her strokes are now yours. Stand up and bend over the beam, gripping the lower bar tightly – feet two feet apart.”

At last the moment is coming. Almost glad the tension is over you rise from your painful knees and bend over the bar – it’s height a perfect level with your hips, rounding your bum nicely as you reach down to grip the lower bar. Your exposed breasts dangle awkwardly upside down, increasing your embarrassment. Sliding your legs apart, you at last catch sight of your would-be punisher.

Miss. Rose is quite beautiful, slender, black haired, with a tightly corseted waist. Her black and red lacy garment clings to her willowy, graceful body. Her lips are twisted into a cruel, patronising sneer, and she fingers the whip fronds of her weapon with some excitement.

“You will count aloud, and thank me for each stroke, kitchen slut!” she declares imperiously, raising the flogger high above her shoulder…

Do you:

Defiantly refuse to count, just accepting the strokes with quiet fortitude? Page 53. Obediently count, and thank Miss. Rose for each stroke? Page 56. Or, if you have an Ambition score of at least 5, object to her undignified treatment of you? Page 57.

Page 53

Add 1 to your Ambition score for your unbreakable defiance!

Thwap! Miss. Rose catches you sharply across your backside with her sinister thrasher. You cannot help but grunt, the blow is sharp and stingy from the first.

Miss. Rose waits a few moments, shrugs, and whips down again.

Thwap! Thwap! You grit your teeth, determined not to give into this woman, even as your bum begins to ignite under a steady, hard whipping.

Thwap! Thwap!

Do you have a Willpower of 3 or less? If so, Turn to page 54.

Your bum begins to jerk under the steady rhythm of Miss. Rose’s flogging. Your backside becomes a patchwork of dozens of criss-crossing flogging tracks, the numerous fronds of the whip each leaving their own personal mark upon your bum cheeks. You grunt, you swallow, you groan occasionally, but you do not cry out, and you certainly do not thank the cruel mistress for her ministrations.

At the final lash, you let out a sigh of relief that your torment is over, your bum throbbing. Raise your Bum Status by 3 levels.

“Don’t get too comfy, girl,” warns Miss. Rose. “You’re due another dozen for failing to adhere to my commands. Leg’s straight – bum up, I’m not finished with you yet…”

Do you wish to object to Miss. Rose’s decree, seeing it as outrageous? If so Turn to page 55.
If you accept Miss. Rose’s judgement, realising you had it coming, read on.

You bite your lower lip for fortitude and thrust your bum high. You knew full well you wouldn’t escape unblemished.

Thwap!

“Uh!” you grunt at the powerful stroke, which re-ignites the fire on your whip streaked bum.

Thwap! Thwap! Thwap!

Miss. Rose rains down the blows with a cool, amused detachment, as you wriggle and gasp under the thrasher. The more she thrashes you, the more powerful the urge becomes to give in to her and start counting. There is something about the whip, as if it almost has its own voice, urging you to surrender.

Thwap! Thwap!

If you have a Willpower score of 5 or less, you cannot help yourself, and begin counting aloud, thanking Miss. Rose each time she flogs you. “I knew you were a milk-sop the moment I laid eyes on you!” she taunts. “But I’ll show you no mercy…” Lose 1 Dignity point for your failure to stick to your guns.

If your Willpower is 6 or more, Miss. Rose finds she cannot break you. At the final Thwack! she lets out a small pant of exhaustion. “My, what a tough bum!” she concedes. “I have to admit you have a steely will – consider this part of your punishment at an end.” You get the feeling compliments from Miss. Rose are somewhat rare, and feel inflated with pride. Add 1 to your ambition and dignity scores.

Regardless of your Willpower score, you bum is now very bruised. Raise your Bum Status by 3 levels.

Turn to page 58.

Page 54

Thwap!

“Oh! Please, miss!” you cry, clutching your bum on tiptoes. “Not so hard!”

How could you hope to manage this pretence of defiance? Even before she entered the room Miss. Rose has managed to undermine your confidence and inner strength. You cannot get the picture of yourself out of your head, dressed in obscene fetishware that makes you look more naked than naked, wobbling and bucking under her thrasher. What a sight you are making! How pointless is the hope in salvaging any dignity from your whipping. Raise your Bum Status by 1 level, and lose 2 ambition points.

“You craven milksop!” spits Miss. Rose. “You act all tough, but don’t have the guts to carry it through? We start again from stroke one. This time, you count each one – got it?”

“Yes, miss! Sorry, miss!” you blather, gripping back on to the bar.

Thwap! Miss. Rose catches you sharply across your backside with her sinister thrasher. You cannot help but grunt, the blow is sharp and stingy from the first.

“One!” you cry out. “Thank you, Miss. Rose.”

Satisfied, Miss Rose brings the thrasher down again, harder. Thwap!

“Ah!” you cry, gripping the bar intensely at a blow that seems to squash your buttocks flat with force. “Two! Thank you, Miss. Rose!”

Thwap! Thwap! Two quick strokes have you hopping on tiptoes, your backside flushing an angry red as the dozens of leather straps snap against your naked bum skin.

“Ah! Oh! Three, four – thank you, Miss Rose…”

If both your Willpower and Submission scores are 4 or less, even the control of counting aloud and the grip bar are not enough to prevent you leaping to your feet, fiery backside in your hands. Unimpressed and stern, Miss. Rose commands you to bend back over and take what’s coming to you, awarding you another half a dozen strokes for your feebleness. Raise your Bum Status by 1 level.

Whimpering in pain, you continue to count aloud and thank your mistress, as if you were a disobedient school girl. Miss. Rose is a firm but sensual whipper, occasionally breaking rhythm to disorientate you, only to whisk the thrasher down the harder after a pause, making you yelp in shock.

Thwap! Thwap!

“Eleven, t-twelve! Oh! Thank you, Miss. Rose!” you blubber at the final two strokes, which have you mewing and cringing. The stern mistress has made a pretty picture of your bottom, and the sore heat pouring from it feels like it could heat the room! Raise your Bum Status by 3 levels.

Miss. Rose scrapes her nails across your welted backside, making you cry out. “Next time I order you to do something, slut, you do it. No questions!”

“Yes, miss…” you sigh miserably.

Page 55

Miss. Rose puts her hands on her hips and sighs. “For goodness sake, this is an optional thrashing, you whinging slut!” she cries, cutting off your objections. “You didn’t have to come here, and I’m not bothered whether you stay. This is an honour whipping – your honour, not mine. If you don’t care about it, just go!”

What do you do? Tell Miss. Rose to stick her honour whipping and leave (grabbing your clothes as you do). Turn to page 65.
Or quieten down and submit to your second thrashing? If so, turn back to page 53 and carry on reading where you left off, but

Page 56

Gain 1 dignity point for refusing to make a fuss.

Thwap! Miss. Rose catches you sharply across your backside with her sinister thrasher. You cannot help but grunt, the blow is sharp and stingy from the first.

“One!” you cry out. “Thank you, Miss. Rose.”

Satisfied, Miss Rose brings the thrasher down again, harder. Thwap!

“Ah!” you cry, gripping the bar intensely at a blow that seems to squash your buttocks flat with force. “Two! Thank you, Miss. Rose!”

Thwap! Thwap! Two quick strokes have you hopping on tiptoes, your backside flushing an angry red as the dozens of leather straps snap against your naked bum skin.

“Ah! Oh! Three, four – thank you, Miss Rose…”

Thwap! Thwap!

Miss. Rose touches your scalding rear appreciatively. If you have the trait Welt’s Nicely, you may gain 1 fame point as Miss. Rose brazenly takes a small camera from her desk to photograph your glowing, whip-streaked bum, to show her handywork to the other mistresses.

Turn to page 58.

Page 57

What do you do? Tell Miss. Rose to stick her honour whipping and leave (grabbing your clothes as you do). Turn to page 65.
Accept your whipping, but defiantly refuse to count, just accepting the strokes with quiet fortitude? Page 53. Obediently count, and thank Miss. Rose for each stroke? Page 56.

Page 58

“That concludes the set Clarissa was due,” announces Miss. Rose, fingering over the raised welts on your bottom. “Now we have to consider your punishment for interrupting a mistress’ legitimate disciplinary session…”

You groan out – you thought you had come to the end of your session. Your backside is smoking; surely you can convince this cruel mistress to let you off somehow?

What do you do? Submit to whatever Miss. Rose has in store for you with patience and gratitude? Turn to page 59.
Beg to be whipped anywhere but your bum? Turn to page 60.
Offer to grovel at Miss. Rose’s feet? Turn to page 61.
Offer to lick your mistress to orgasm? Turn to page 62.

Page 59

Add 1 to your submission for your unquestioning obedience.

“Another eighteen strokes to your blazing bottom will whip the arrogance out of you, I think,” nods Miss. Rose to herself. “But I crave variety – you do not deserve the Slut Thrasher again … let me see…”

Miss. Rose flounces over to a cabinet in the corner of the room, as you consider the punishment due to your stretched and vulnerable bottom. You gasp as she reveals your new instrument of correction.

“The cane should slice you nicely,” she taunts, flexing the thin rattan stick before you. “You’ll be sobbing by the end, I shouldn’t wonder, but that is the price of obedience.”

Her smile falls as she commands you to stand in the centre of the room, bend over and grasp your ankles. Terrified of more punishments you quickly obey, even as you see Miss. Rose produce a length of white plastic rope from the cabinet. Swiftly and skilfully she ties your hands and ankles together explaining that the cane is too cruel an instrument to expect stillness from a new girl, especially if used on previous welts. This is what passes for mercy in Miss. Rose’s eyes, but still you are thankful that there will be no opportunity for you to break pose.

If you have the trait Lust for the Cane, Turn to page 84.
If not, read on.

Miss. Rose taps the cane upon your arse, and curtly reminds you to count and thank her with each stroke. You readily agree, desperate not to incur more of her wrath.

With undiminished strength and vigour, Miss. Rose vengefully whips into your already well beaten buttocks. Your cries are sweet music to Miss. Rose’s ears, and lend greater strength and cunning to her blows. Vip! Vip! Vip! Miss. Rose’s cruel rattan cane strikes your squirming bum cheeks again and again, and you chirp your thanks at each stroke, even as your hands tug at your bonds, your knees buckle and your head thrashes, sending your locks into a wide fan. Vip! Vip! Vip! Before half the first set is served you are sobbing, the relentless cuts of the cane reawakening old welts with spiteful precision. Miss. Rose refuses to set a rhythm to the beating, sometimes issuing four or five strokes in a row, sometimes singles spaced out over fifteen seconds. When you cringe too much, your knees buckle, and your bum lowers as if you hope to somehow avoid the incoming cuts, Miss. Rose patiently places her cane beneath the overhang of your scalding buttocks, and pushes your bottom back up into an acceptable caning position, whereupon she unleashes a particularly blistering cut as punishment for your weakness.

Vip! Vip! Vip! You continue your sobbing thanks, your voice horse, as you feel the cane bite your arse again and again. You are beyond broken, your will utterly shattered, your whole existence seems to be experienced entirely through your glowing red, welt streaked arse cheeks. Your weakened state does not soften Miss. Rose – rather it seems to increase her passion to whip you harder. Vip! Vip! Vip! Drool from your slack lips wets your toes, and a long rivulet of sex juice streaks down your thighs, over the white plastic cord ropes that bind your wrists to your ankles, to squelch at the balls of your feet. Your arse is smouldering, the heat stoked higher and higher at each remorseless stroke. Vip! Vip! Vip! Miss. Rose begins to berate you for your weakness, each insult punctuated by another telling slice of the cane into your bum cheeks, such that you feel obliged to apologise with each stroke, even as you howl out the number and your dearest thanks.

Vip! Vip! VIP! With a grunt, Miss. Rose concludes your set, with a resounding diagonal stroke to your centre bum, which has you hopping ludicrously in your bondage.

“Ahhh! Eighteen, miss, thank you, miss!” you howl, shaking and weeping from the ordeal.

“My pleasure, kitchen slut,” purrs Miss. Rose.

Raise your Bum Status by 6 levels, but gain 1 fame point. For a new girl you really know how to take a thrashing!

Turn to page 63.

Page 60

“Very well,” laughs Miss. Rose musically. “Let it never be said that I lack compassion.”

She produces a pair of leather cuffs from her cupboard and commands you to place your hands behind your back. Grateful for anything that spares your bottom, you readily consent, and soon your hands are secured tightly, with movement impossible.

Guiding you towards the bed, Miss. Rose commands you to kneel upon the end, push your stomach in and your breasts out, as she replaces her wicked Slut Thrasher with a more simple, flat whipping strap. A chill runs through you as you realise what it is that awaits you.

Do you have the weakness ‘Not my tits’? If so, Turn to page 64.
If not, read on:

“You’ll soon have cause to regret your decision, girl,” taunts Miss. Rose, weighing the strap in her hands. “The bottom is made to take punishment. But nothing is more shameful than a tit thrashing. Prepare yourself!”

You clamp your eyes tightly shut, not wishing to see the stroke, as the strap whistles towards you:

Snap!

“Uhhh” you grunt, jumping, as the first stroke wraps itself under your bosoms, lifting them high, your skin reddening in objection as the strap departs, your boobs crashing painfully down. “One, miss!”

Snap!

Another stroke, horizontal, which slaps painfully into both nipples. “Ah! Two, miss!” you cry wincing, as your breasts wobble back into shape.

There is nowhere to hide and no way to cover your breasts as they shudder and dance under the continual bombardment. Miss. Rose delivers the strokes quickly, never letting your breasts completely settle, to create a sinuous dance as your sore tits bounce in all directions.

By the end of the whipping you are exhausted, sweat dripping down your barely clad torso, your breasts a criss-cross of strap marks – nipples a fiery red. Reduce your Willpower, Dignity and Ambition by 2 points each from this ordeal.

If you have the trait ‘Busty’, gain 1 fame point. Miss. Rose photographs your whip marks for the enjoyment of her fellow mistresses, and word shall soon spread about your ample breasts.

Now Turn to page 63.

Page 61

You throw yourself to Miss. Rose’s feet, babbling your earnest desire only to worship at your mistresses feet.

If you have a Dignity score of less than 4, Miss. Rose in unimpressed. “I don’t need a cheap slut like you giving me obedience!” she thunders. You sob, begging her not to thrash your bum again. Turn to page 60.
Otherwise read on.

“Excellent,” she smiles, as you abase yourself before her. “You are just the sort of arrogant whore I like to see humbled. But if you’re going to do it, you’ll do it right…”

Soon Miss. Rose is barking orders at you – to lick her boots, then her heels. She puts down a dog bowl of water and commands you to slurp up the water, before commanding you to roll over, sit up and beg. The whole process is acutely humiliating, especially in your obscene outfit, your breasts and bum bulging out and wobbling with every slight movement. Lose two Dignity points.

Finally Miss. Rose seems satisfied. “Good dog!” she beams as you pant obediently beneath her, her hand ruffling your hair.

Turn to page 63.

Page 62

“Anything to avoid another lashing, eh?” snarls Miss. Rose. “You’re learning … a girl shouldn’t invite the whip too often upon herself, lest she bore her mistress. Yes, you may pleasure me. But beware, if you do not perform competently, you can expect to be punished for it!”

Add one to your Ambition for your incisive choice.

Miss. Rose orders you onto your knees before perching herself delicately upon the foot of her bed. She commands you to pull of her leggings with your teeth, which you do, tugging alternately upon each leg until the black material is pealed away from her unblemished flesh. She widens her legs.

“Come, girl, pleasure your mistress,” she purrs.

You shuffle towards her, gently pressing your lips between her legs. Soon you begin to gently swirl your tongue between the folds of her sex, brushing over the clitoris, softly, at first, then more roughly, as Miss. Rose’s excitement gathers.

If you have a Submission score of 5 or more, you overcome all inhibition, plunging your tongue deep into her sex, smearing your lips all over with her girl juice. Miss. Rose, lost in the passionate tonguing, heaves to delightful orgasm from your skilled mouth.

If you have a Submission score of 4 or less, you are slower to start, too prudish to overcome your natural reserve. Miss. Rose ‘encourages’ you with a dozen lashes to your backside, which soon encourages you to try harder. Raise your Bum Status by 3 levels. In the event, her cruel use of you, combined with your now desperate lathering of her tingling clitoris, is enough to bring her to a shuddering orgasm.

Now Turn to page 63.

Page 63

On your knees before the terrifying Miss. Rose, you shudder with fear and exhaustion, hoping beyond hope that she has done with you.

“Well,” she says at last, stroking her hand through your sweat drenched hair, “I have to say I’m impressed. I thought you would prove to be one of those lily-livered sluts who would cringe from a simple whipping – let alone the ordeal you’ve been through. I don’t mind being proven wrong, however galling that might be for some. Clearly, your word is your bond, and you have earned my respect. I think you might go far in this place, girl.”

“Thank you, Miss. Rose,” you say earnestly, swelled with pride.

Miss. Rose is true to her word, and spreads word of your dignity and honour. Gain 4 fame points.

In addition, choose an attribute (Ambition, Dignity, Submission or Willpower). That attribute can be raised by 2 points. Your other attributes can be raised by 1 point.

Cross off the codeword APPOINTMENT and

“I release you,” says Miss. Rose, dismissing you with a wave of her hand as she walks over to the wine decanter to refresh herself. “Kindly change out of my clothing before you leave.”

“Of course, miss!” you chirp, stripping out of the obscene costume and quickly back into your maid’s uniform. With a final curtsey, you swiftly leave the room and return to the kitchens.

Turn to page 65.

Page 64

“No!” you shriek in panic. “Please miss, please no!”

“Don’t make a fuss, girl – I’ve made up my mind!” snarls Miss. Rose.

“Please! I want out! I want to go – you said that I could refuse the punishment, that it was optional!” you blather.

Miss. Rose looks at you pitifully, the tit strap dangling in her hand. “And just as I thought you had developed some sort of honour … very well, you weakling – the punishment is cancelled, and Clarissa will be punished again from the start.”

Miss. Rose removes the cuffs locking your hands behind you, and you wilt in shame at your lack of grit. Reduce all your attributes (Ambition, Dignity, Submission and Willpower) by 1 point.

In silence you change out of your obscene costume, Miss. Rose no longer deigning to look at you, and slip back into your maid’s costume. Like a mouse, you sneak from the room.

Turn to page 65.

Page 65

You return to the kitchens. Your appointment with Miss. Rose meant you missed the lunch mealtime, but find the kitchen in full force preparing for dinner.

Although you are getting more proficient in the kitchen, you inevitably make some mistakes, which the eagle-eyed Mrs. Kent quickly takes out on your bottom.

By the end of evening meal you are quite exhausted as you slave over stoves, wipe away grease and choke on cooking fumes. Even Mrs. Kent’s thrashings seem to slacken off as the long day draws to a close.

Turn to page 66.

Page 66

At last the day begins to draw to an end. Along with the rest of the girls you feed on the scraps left behind by the mistresses and manor staff, and then comes the exhausting process of washing up and drying, with hundreds of plates, glasses cups and cutlery to clean by hand.

During your labours, Mrs. Kent administers a few punishments on some of the ‘lazier’ kitchen slaves, publicly whipping their bottoms one or two dozen strokes in order to enforce order. You cringe and keep quiet – your bum has had enough attention recently!

You feel shattered as Mrs. Kent finally rings the bell, calling the girls back to the sleeping dorm. She informs Candy and yourself to remain behind, however. You bite your lip with nervousness. What have you done this time?

Candy seems more relaxed than you, nor do the other kitchen girls look particularly phased as you stand to attention with Candy, and Mrs. Kent locks the girls in for the night.

“Relax – you’re not being thrashed … yet, anyway,” says Mrs. Kent briskly. “You two are in charge of the late night clean-up, for plates delivered late or midnight requests for food from the master’s guests.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Kent!” chirps Candy brightly.

“It’s a privilege – don’t abuse it!” snarls Mrs. Kent. “I’m having an early night – wake me if the Master makes any requests.”

“Of course, miss,” you mutter, managing an encouraging smile.

Do you have the codeword EYEFULL? If so, Turn to page 67.
If not, read on.

You watch as Mrs. Kent makes her way out of the kitchen and closes the door behind her.

Do you have the codeword CANDY? If so, Turn to page 70.
If not, read on.

The night watch passes very peacefully, and except for a few late plates and cups delivered by the beautiful serving girls, you are left to your own devices. You and Candy relax, play cards, drink a little of the less popular wines, and generally have a very pleasant time of it. You can raise any attribute (Ambition, Dignity, Submission or Willpower) by one point.

Now turn to 83.

Page 67

“Oh, before I go,” says Mrs. Kent says to you, “get your tits out for me. It’s been a long day and I want a play.”

You are taken aback at the crude suggestion, made so brazenly in front of Candy.

Do you: Refuse to comply? Turn to page 68.
Meekly unbutton your blouse and produce your breasts? Turn to page 69.

Page 68

If your Ambition is 3 or less, Mrs. Kent takes exception toy your defiance. Calling for a steward, she has you held over the kitchen table for a salutary thrashing with her tawse. Raise your Bum Status by 2 levels.

If your Ambition is 4 or more, she sees the steely glint in your eyes and backs down.

Either way, Mrs. Kent leaves unsatisfied, grumbling about how disobedient her workforce has become.

You watch as Mrs. Kent makes her way out of the kitchen and closes the door behind her.

Do you have the codeword CANDY? If so, Turn to page 70.
If not, read on.

The night watch passes very peacefully, and except for a few late plates and cups delivered by the beautiful serving girls, you are left to your own devices. You and Candy relax, play cards, drink a little of the less popular wines, and generally have a very pleasant time of it. You can raise any one attribute (Ambition, Dignity, Submission or Willpower) by one point.

Now turn to 83.

Page 69

Gain 1 Submission point for this crude surrender.

Mrs. Kent wastes no time in grappling for your large, round tits. She squeezes and pinches your nipples, making you squeak in shock. Soon her face is pressed against your heaving breasts, and she is fervently licking, nibbling and sucking your tits with abandon. Candy seems completely unphased by this display, waiting quietly for Mrs. Kent to finish, giving your hand an encouraging squeeze.

Eventually she is satisfied, leaving your nipples cherry-red and sore.

You watch as Mrs. Kent makes her way out of the kitchen, quite without thanking you, and closes the door behind her.

Do you have the codeword CANDY? If so, Turn to page 70.
If not, read on.

Now turn to 83.

Page 70

You have been thinking about Candy for quite some time during the day. Although nothing has been said, you can feel that Candy has developed an attachment to you – a worship. After being bossed around for so long, you yearn play the dominant for once.

Candy herself eyes you with heavy expectation, rubbing a hand through her dirty blonde hair with nervousness.

Will you: Suggest you play a game of cards to while the night away? Turn to page 71.
Command her to strip naked and kneel at your feet? Turn to page 72.

Page 71

“Yeah…” says Candy with a tinge of disappointment. “That sounds great…”

Remove the codeword CANDY from your sheet.

Now turn to 83.

Page 72

“You want me to … what?” gasps Candy, shocked.

“Are you deaf or just stupid?” you thunder. “Strip, and get on your knees, bitch!”

You watch as years of kitchen submission kicks in – unable to resist your tone, Candy pulls away her kitchen garb in a fluid motion, and drops to her knees, her small round breasts bouncing before you at her sudden drop. Years of hard work and scraps have given her a thin waist, and sinuous body.

What will you do now? Say she has been disobedient and needs to be punished? Turn to page 73.
Command her to lick your feet clean? Turn to page 74.
Order her to fetch you a glass of the master’s best wine, naked, from the cellar? Turn to page 75.

Page 73

“But … but what have I done?” she squeaks in confusion.

You slap Candy sharply across the face. “You were too slow in obeying my commands,” you snap as she nurses her cheek. “You need a lesson to make you obey without question!”

“Oh … all right…” she whimpers.

“That’s ‘all right, miss’! Say it!” you demand.

“All right, miss!” chants Candy obediently.

She cringes before you, awaiting her doom.

How will you punish her? Bend her over the work bench and spank her bare bottom? Turn to page 76.
Remove Mrs. Kent’s tawse from the cupboard and thrash her a dozen? Turn to page 78.
Command Candy to crawl to the cupboard, remove the cane, present it to your hands, and then bend her over for two dozen strokes? Turn to page 79.

Page 74

Do you have an ambition score of 2 or less? If so, Candy laughs at you, taking your suggestion, and the whole scenario, as a joke. You feel too embarrassed to correct her, and the two of you spend a strained night together, washing the occasional plate that is delivered. Cross off the codeword CANDY and Turn to page 83.
If not, read on.

Candy swallows, and then does as she is bid. She licks your feet with abandon, getting her tongue right between your toes and lathers at your dirty heel. You pull up a bench to get comfortable as Candy slaves away pleasantly at your feet, kneeling on the hard stone floor as you relax.

Raise your Ambition by 1 point, and lower your Bum Status by 1 level as you drink in your power over the girl.

After forty minutes of patient work, Candy has your feet shining clean – her own tongue black and sore with her efforts.

Will you? Congratulate her on a job well done and allow her to stand. Turn to page 82.
Or inform her she is now to be punished? Turn to page 73.

Page 75

“But … but that is the Master’s wine! It’s heresy!” cries Candy, shocked.

“I don’t care,” you snarl. “Obey my command!”

“Never!” she shrieks. “I’ll never betray the Master! You are a monster!”

Candy grabs her clothes and runs to the corner, sobbing. Cross off the codeword CANDY.

The rest of the night is spent in icy silence.

Turn to page 83.

Page 76

You command Candy to bend over the bench, and she obeys, shuffling her feet somewhat in defiance. Unwilling to be denied, you push her over the bench and immediately begin to spank her now raised bottom cheeks.

Smack! Smack! Smack!

“Ouch! Oh, miss! Please have pity!” she sobs.

If your Ambition score is 3 or less, Turn to page 77.
If not, read on.

Clenching your jaw you ignore Candy’s cries of protest, which you consider to be rather over-egging her discomfort. You continue to smack her wriggling bottom until it is a glowing red.

If you already have that codeword,

Your hand is aching sore by the end of the punishment, but Candy is suffering more, and she sniffles pathetically. Add one to your Ambition score.

What do you do now? Tell Candy her punishment is over? Turn to page 82.
Remove Mrs. Kent’s tawse from the cupboard and thrash her a dozen? Turn to page 78.
Command Candy to crawl to the cupboard, remove the cane, present it to your hands, and then bend her over for two dozen strokes? Turn to page 79.

Page 77

You haven’t the heart to beat the girl any more than you have done already.

“Oh! Candy! I’m sorry – I … I don’t know what came over me…” you blather.

“It’s alright – it’s okay, really,” reassures Candy, as she rises from her position. But somehow – you can tell in her voice – it’s not okay. She’s disappointed that you bit off more than you could chew. Cross off the codeword CANDY.

You spend the rest of the evening in contemplative peace and quiet, ruminating on your shame. Reduce your Ambition by 1.

Turn to page 83.

Page 78

Smiling, you get down the tawse from the cupboard and command Candy to bend over the sink, until her face is submerged in the filthy dishwater water. “That will cut out your girly cries whilst I lash you!” you explain.

Candy looks unsure at performing this humiliation, and looks pleadingly into your eyes. If you have an Ambition score of 4 or less, your resolve cracks – Turn to page 77.
If not, read on.

You stare Candy down, and, sniffling, she bends over the smooth metal edge of the sink, gingerly dipping her face into the sink water, still filthy with the washing up.

Licking your lips, you thrash the tawse down upon her buttocks, leaving two delightful red lines across her blushing bottom. Candy splutters in the sink, and emerges to cry out: “Oh, please, miss! This isn’t fair!”

Without remorse, you plunge Candy’s face back into the sink water, and lash her buttocks again! Snap!

“You can come up for air every third stroke – not before!” you command, and Candy gurgles her acceptance.

You lash her bum cheeks freely, exalting in your power over her, as Candy’s bottom writhes and churns under your bombardment, spluttering up for breath occasionally, before miserably plunging her head back into the cold water.

Snap! Snap! Snap!

Your thirst to bruise her bottom pays dividends, and soon raised track lines begin to puff up on her bum, as she whimpers and gurgles through her set. By the time you have finished, her bum looks ablaze, and Candy unleashes a bubbling moan that further seems to degrade her already humiliating position.

You can add one point to either your Ambition or your Dignity score as you ruminate upon your dominant position over your submissive slave.

If you already have the codeword HOT,

What do you do now? Tell Candy her punishment is over? Turn to page 82.
Command Candy to crawl to the cupboard, remove the cane, present it to your hands, and then bend her over for two dozen strokes? Turn to page 79.

Page 79

Do you have the codewords HOT or HOTTER? If so Turn to page 80.

Candy whimpers. “But only the mistresses are allowed to use the cane – it’s unfair.”

Do you have an Ambition score of 6 or more? If so, Turn to page 81.

If not, you falter. “I thought that’s what you wanted…”

“Well – you’re not really trained. So – no. Sorry. Actually – it’s a bit cold in here…” Candy shuffles awkwardly to her feet, refusing to look you in the eyes as she grabs her clothing. You’re not sure what you’ve done wrong, but Candy has gone as cold as ice towards you. Cross off the codeword CANDY.

You spend the rest of the evening in contemplative peace and quiet, ruminating on your shame. Reduce your Ambition by 1.

Turn to page 83.

Page 80

“I … I can’t…” weeps Candy. “I’m so sore! Please, miss – have mercy!”

You look upon Candy’s smoking backside. Perhaps you have pushed the girl too far?

Will you allow Candy to rise and inform her the punishment is over? Turn to page 82.
Or, if you have an Ambition score of 7 or more, gaze into her eyes and demand that she does as she is bid. Turn to page 81.

Page 81

“Candy,” you hiss quietly. “Obey me. I am your mistress! You will take this punishment because I wish it! I want to see your bum covered in my cane strokes. It will give me pleasure – do you understand? You will pleasure your mistress!”

Candy shivers in her nudity. “Yes … yes, of course, mistress…”

Dropping onto her hands and knees you watch as Candy shuffles forwards to collect the instrument of her doom. You delight as you observe her open the cupboard and tremble before she reaches up for the long school cane. Placing the cane in her mouth, she crawls back to you, her tits swaying beneath her, little tears forming in the corners of her eyes. Eventually she reaches you, and drops the cane into your outstretched palm.

“Where do you want me, mistress?” she quavers.

You stand tall above her and flex the cane in your hands. “Touching toes is the only way to deliver the cane, Candy. Stand up, turn around and bend over…”

Soon, Candy is arranged before you, the round moon of her backside exposed and completely vulnerable as she strains to touch her toes. You tap the cane against her bottom, measuring your stroke before striking, watching Candy clench and unclench in fear.

When you can stand the tension no longer, you swing your arm back, and flick the cane forward with your wrist. Vip!

Candy squeals, and you marvel at her reaction – the stroke took practically no effort, and yet Candy squawked as if you had lashed her with a flaming brand!

“Silence, Candy!” you demand. “No unnecessary noise or you get a repeat!”

“Sorry, miss!” snivels Candy, thrusting her bum, now imprinted with a livid red line of fire, upwards to await the next stroke.

Vip! Vip! Vip! Steadily you lash Candy, licking your lips as you see each welt rise upon her scarlet bum. The cane takes focus to use, but practically no effort, and Candy wails in torment at the regular beating you thrash out. You feel like a princess, lashing a disobedient servant, and come to understand the inherent dignity in using the cane.

You can raise your Dignity score by two points, as you heroically lash Candy’s bare bum two dozen strokes. By the time you are done, Candy is in floods of tears, but her cane-scarred bum continues to waver before you, as if eager for more.

If you already have this codeword,

It is obvious that Candy is in no state to take any more, and reluctantly, you order her to rise.

Turn to page 82.

Page 82

Candy rises, and snuggles into your outstretched arms. “Thank you, miss!” she coo’s as you comfort your needy slave. Later, Candy demonstrates her gratitude, pleasuring you with her tongue into a shivering orgasm. Lower you Bum Status by 1 level.

If you spanked Candy and have the trait ‘Sadistic’ you may add one point to any of your attributes (Ambition, Dignity, Submission or Willpower).

You find a quiet corner of the kitchen to sleep, whilst Candy keeps watch in the kitchen, gleefully performing your duties like a loyal slave. You revel in your new unofficial status as Candy’s mistress, finding the change in status much to your liking. Add one point to your Dignity score.

Now Turn to page 83.

Page 83

Many days pass, and your labours in the kitchens continue relentlessly. Every so often you raise the possibility of getting a mechanic to fix your abandoned car with Mrs. Kent, or ask if you might be able to find someone with a phone so you can at least contact your workplace. Such inquires only end in a sore bottom from Mrs. Kent’s tawse, and you soon learn to keep your head down.

Somehow you have let yourself become a kitchen slave, just like all the rest of the girls, and fear of a beating keeps you line as you scrub, cook and clean for the unseen and decadent master above you.

Despite the regular thrashings, you become cannier at avoiding unnecessary punishment, and generally heal quite well over many days of hot, exhausting labour. Lower your Bum Status by 3 levels, or 4 levels if you have the codeword CANDY, as your friend continues to selflessly take the blame on your behalf.

You have quite lost track of the time and date, and startle as, one day, whilst scrubbing the grease off one of the stoves you hear Mrs. Kent call out to you.

“You! Kitchen slut – over here! There’s a message arrived for you…”

You stagger over, rubbing a filthy hand through your hair as you take the letter from Mrs. Kent’s outstretched hand. You startle as you read:

“You are commanded to attend the Master and his guests at the great hall, tonight at ten o’clock. Mistress Jessica will call for you at eight to ensure you are suitably washed and garbed for this important visit. You will practice your best behaviour so as not to embarrass the Master. Disobedience will be sternly dealt with.”

You can’t believe it – the master wishes to see you? A humble kitchen slave?

“Looks like your chance has come, girly,” smiles Mrs. Kent. “The Master likes to check every new arrival for … potential. Don’t mess this up, or you’ll end up like this lot – kitchen sluts until the end of their days.”

“Is that what happened to you, Mrs. Kent?” you blurt without thinking.

Mrs. Kent takes on a distant look. “I get to serve the master – that is enough for me … I had my chance, but missed my opportunity.” Mrs. Kent looks back at you seriously. “Don’t repeat my mistake – never take the Master for granted … or his mistresses. They’d sooner see a new girl permanently in chains then risk their position. This moment is important, and I’ll help you where I can. After your meeting with the Master, you are likely to be re-assigned. You only have a little time. What would you like to do to prepare?”

It is the first time in a long time someone has asked your opinion. What do you ask to do? Try to memorise the names of the most important mistresses of the house? Turn to page 85.
Clean yourself up as best you can before Mistress Jessica’s arrival? Turn to page 86.
Keep working in the kitchen (after all, it is where the master has assigned you)? Turn to page 87.
Eat a full meal to get your strength back? Turn to page 88.

Page 84

At last, all your fantasies are about to come true! How you have longed to be tied down and caned mercilessly by an unfeeling mistress for a crime you deserve to be punished for…

Throughout the coming caning, you will not lose any attribute points even if your bottom goes above ‘Blazing’. Instead, you can gain 1 Submission point for every two steps above ‘Blazing’ you reach, as you are thrashed into sweet oblivion.

Now reTurn to page 59.

Page 85

Mrs. Kent gives you permission to quiz the other girls, and herself, on the more important members of the household – provided you do not stop them working whilst you do so.

Soon you have memorised dozens of names, including Misstress Jessica, the Master’s favourite, Miss. Rose, the most feared, and Miss. Nadine, the most voluptuous of the mistresses.

Being able to identify so many of the house’s hierarchy instils you with a lot of confidence. Add one to your Ambition score.

Turn to page 89.

Page 86

Mrs. Kent permits you to use the crude bathing chambers adjacent to the kitchen dorms. Normally kitchen slaves are permitted to wash their bodies only once every three days, but Mrs. Kent permits this exception.

You have only water and rough soap to clean with, but you make the best job of it you can, cleaning under your nails and behind your ears, and generally freshening up. You would kill for a little makeup and perfume, but at least your appearance is no longer horrific, and that instils in you some confidence.

Add one to your Dignity score.

Turn to page 89.

Page 87

You refuse to put yourself before the convenience of the Master. Mrs. Kent shakes her head in amazement as you willingly return to the boiling stoves to fix up dinner.

Add one to your Submission score.

Turn to page 89.

Page 88

You’ve been on starving kitchen slave rations for weeks now, having to get by on the thin scraps left behind by the guests, mistresses and other staff. Mrs. Kent serves you a full dinner, which you gobble down greedily.

The meal does you the power of good, and you feel you can now take on the world with a full stomach. Add one to your Willpower.

Turn to page 89.

Page 89

At about eight o’clock, a steward from the upper floors enters the kitchen, calling out your name in a clear and regal voice. You quickly attend him, and offer the calling card sent to you by the Master for his attention.

He studies it for a few moments, nods, and addresses you.

“You will follow me to Mistress Jessica,” he commands, looking resplendent in his black and white uniform. “You will stay at my heels and not deviate. I am authorised to use the punishment rod upon you if you fail to comply.”

“Yes, sir,” you reply meekly. There is no way you wish to jeopardise your first, possibly only, meeting with the Master.

With a final glance back at the kitchens, your home for the last several months, you follow the steward up the stairs and into the main hall. Remaining on the ground floor, he leads you down a number of corridors, decorated in luxuriant Jacobean style. Outside one room you witness the startling sight of a cleaning slave bent over the knee of a guest in a Victorian suit. She is being soundly spanked. Her bottom is bright red, but the guest doesn’t seem to mind about her discomfort, spanking her eagerly.

Upon seeing your startled reaction the steward explains. “Around here the wishes of the guests are paramount. Any slave can be punished to the limit of a guest’s imagination without limit. Gillian here must have upset this guest in some way and deserves her thrashing.”

You flush with anger at the beastly stewards remarks.

Will you? Demand that the guest release Gillian at once? Turn to page 90.
Offer to take the spanking in Gillian’s place? Turn to page 104.
Remain silent and follow the steward, leaving the girl to her fate? Turn to page 180.

Page 90

The guest seems startled, and the steward mortified.

“And just who are you to be giving me orders, young lady?” thunders the guest, the half naked girl still draped across his lap.

Do you have an Ambition score of 5 or more? If so Turn to page 91.
If not, read on.

The guest’s loud voice and sense of outrage put you on the defensive, and you stammer out a suggestion that he is misusing the staff.

The steward immediately steps in. “A thousand apologies, sir. I shall discipline the young lady at once.”

“You better had!” grumbles the guest. “And whatever you were going to give her – give her double!”

“Very good, sir,” accedes the steward, who, in a fluid motion, yanks you by the hair over a small table adjacent to the guest’s room, and commands you to raise your skirt. With both men against you, you realise your situation is impossible, and glumly obey.

Vap! Vap!

The steward beats your exposed buttocks heavily with his punishment rod, which stings and bruises your backside terribly. The guest continues to spank the girl across his knee, in time to the vigorous beating you receive.

Vap! Vap! Vap!

You sob helplessly, rueing that you ever tried to defend a girl you hardly even knew. Indeed, the servant girl seems hardly grateful. After she is released she scowls at your thrashed form with undisguised contempt. “Thanks for nothing, new girl,” she spits, before meekly thanking the guest for punishing her and scampering off.

Vap! Vap!

In all, you are whipped two dozen times by the brawny steward, eyes moist at the soreness of your buttocks. Raise your Bum Status by 4 levels. Once he has finished with you the steward casts you on your knees before the guest, and orders you to apologise.

“I’m very sorry, sir, truly,” you blub. Reduce your Dignity by 1 for this shameful display.

“Would sir care to use the girl for his pleasure?” enquires the steward.

“No,” grunts the guest. “I’ve shot my load in the other maid slave already. Besides, I have to prepare for the party.”

“Very good, sir,” nods the steward, who bows as the guest rises and returns to his room. He turns to you. “Perhaps we can now continue on to Mistress Jessica without further interruption?”

“Yes, sir,” you whimper, clutching your scalding cheeks.

Turn to page 180.

Page 91

“Come, sir!” you laugh. “You seem to be able to dish out punishment, but I’ll wager you can’t take it in return. It is ungentlemanly to inflict what you cannot endure.”

A small sparkle appears in his eyes, and he strokes the girl’s warm bum in consideration.

“Are you suggesting some sort of challenge, girl?” he laughs. “I like challenges. But a hand spanking is beneath my dignity. How about a caning competition? It’s been a while since school, but I used to be able to take a fair whack from matron! I suggest we pick a number of strokes, and then flip a coin to determine who goes first. If the victim surrenders before their turn is due, the whipper escapes with their bum unscathed, otherwise they are tied down and whipped to the same number whether they can take it or not. What do you say?”

“Madame accepts,” interrupts the steward, not seeking your approval.

“Excellent!” cries the guest. He slaps Gillian on the bum and dismisses her casually. Gillian gazes at you in gratitude, and then quickly flees. “Now, how many strokes in our competition, do you think?”

What do you say? 12 strokes? Turn to page 92.
24 strokes? Turn to page 95.
48 strokes? Turn to page 103.

Page 92

“A quick dozen? Fine,” says the guest breezily. “Steward. Be a good man and flick a coin will you? Heads I go first. Tails its you.”

The steward does as bid, spinning the coin in the air. “Tail’s, sir,” he confesses, sharing the result with both of you.

The guest grins and invites you into his room, decorated in warm burgundy and comfortable furniture. He indicates his writing desk and invites you to spread across it. “Nothing too elaborate for a feeble dozen. Still, I’ll do my best to make them sting…”

Rules are rules, and you reluctantly spread yourself over the desk, your short maid’s skirt rising over your bottom as you do so. From an adjacent cupboard, the guest takes a long, whippy cane, flexing it delightfully in his hands. “I say, what a superb crupper!” he says, admiring your arse. “Quite the rival of any in my pony stables. I’ll tell you what, girl, if you’ve any spare time, why don’t you volunteer to spend some time at the stables? There’s a big race coming up, and the Master has asked me to put on a good show. Have a think about it, anyway…”

You feel a tap on the cane upon your bottom. “Well, back to business, eh? Bare arsed thrashing!”

Vip! You grunt as the guest unleashes a powerful stroke into your mid-cheeks. The man is no stranger to the cane…

Vip! Vip!

You cannot help but cry out at two more firm strokes to your clenching buttocks, which leave bright red lines of fire across your bum.

Vip! Vip!

If your Dignity is not at least 5, you cannot help but jerk and shriek at his proficient use of the cane. The steward suggests you are showing improper respect to a guest, and the guest agrees, issuing six further strokes upon your bum as a ‘freebie’. Raise your Bum Status by 1 level.

Vip! Vip! Vip! You clench your teeth through the final three stingers, but it is not enough to phase you. You have been beaten enough in the kitchens to have developed a certain toughness against all but the most severe punishments. Raise your Bum Status by 2 levels.

The guest is panting by the end, having put a great deal of effort into his strokes in the vain hope of breaking you. “Well … it appears you’ve taken the best I can give,” he concedes. “Pity there weren’t more strokes, I’d have had you weeping. Still, rules are rules…”

“Perhaps,” interrupts the steward, “the girl would agree to absolve you of your strokes, since she has already won the duel…” The steward looks at you meaningfully.

Do you agree to let the guest off his tariff of strokes? Turn to page 93.
Or insist that he takes them? Turn to page 94.

Page 93

Add one to your Dignity for refusing to make a fuss.

“Well, that’s awfully decent of you, old girl, I must say,” bows the guest. “Well, I have preparations to make for tonight’s party. Hope those stingers of mine keep the cold night air away.”

“I’m sure they will, sir – thank you, sir,” says the steward, leading you out of the room. “Now, perhaps we can proceed to Mistress Jessica’s chambers without any further interruption?”

You nod and smile, rubbing your sore bum as you go.

Turn to page 180.

Page 94

“Quite right, quite right, rules are rules,” nods the guest. You are invited to rise, and the guest places the cane into your hands with a rueful grin. Taking your place at the desk, he unfastens his belt, and tugs his trousers and pants down to his ankles, his great, hairy bottom now facing rudely towards you.

The steward, and the command of the guest, secures the prostrate gentleman to the table, fastening his hands and feet to table legs, removing his trousers completely so as to allow his ankles to be secured, opening the man completely to your gaze.

With undisguised relish you whip into his chubby cheeks with the school cane, watching as his flesh encompasses and then rejects the stick from his buttocks, accompanied by a great cry from the man himself.

“My goodness!” he cries. “Steady on, girl!”

Vip! You slash into his cheeks again, mercy foreign to your nature, and the man roars out. “I say! I’m sure I didn’t thrash you this hard…”

Vip! Vip! Vip!

“Uhh! Ahh! Nggg!”

You thrash the guest his full tally of twelve strokes, decorating his pale bottom a new, bright colour. From the enormous erection you can see dangling between his legs, the man obviously enjoys himself, although you give him a rough journey.

Add one to your Ambition for carrying through your promise.

At the final stroke, Vip, the guest gives a great cry, his buttocks churning in agony. “Thank goodness it was only twelve!” he mutters as the steward frees him from his imprisonment. “Damn well lashed, Madame! You’ll make a searing mistress one day! I think I can admit you won that competition.”

“Thank you, sir,” you nod as the guest rises, clutching his fiery buttocks.

“Will there be anything else, sir?” inquires the steward.

“No – that will be all, I’d best get ready for the party – better bring a cushion!”

“Very good, sir,” bows the steward, leading you out of the room. “Now, perhaps we can proceed to Mistress Jessica’s chambers without any further interruption?”

You nod and smile, rubbing your sore bum as you go.

Turn to page 180.

Page 95

“Two dozen? Enough for a proper match!” cries the guest eagerly. “Steward. Be a good man and flick a coin will you? Heads I go first. Tails its you.”

The steward does as bid, spinning the coin in the air. “Heads, sir,” he confesses, sharing the result with both of you.

The guest grins ruefully and invites you into his room, decorated in warm burgundy and comfortable furniture. He indicates his writing desk. “Hope this will be satisfactory for you? I take it you want to issue them bare bum?”

“Of course,” you smile.

The guest goes to the cupboard, taking down a long, swishy school cane, and passes it into your hands with a look of relish. Taking his place at the desk, he unfastens his belt, and tugs his trousers and pants down to his ankles, his great, hairy bottom now facing rudely towards you.

“Twenty four strokes, eh? Been a long time – still, it will give me plenty of time to decorate your arse afterwards.”

“We’ll see…” you say, flexing the cane.

It’s not easy to break a man’s will with just 24 strokes. How do you wish to proceed? Issue the strokes at full strength, hoping to shatter his will with brute force? Turn to page 96.
Rely on exquisite and unrelenting timing to wear down his defences, letting him feel each stroke? Turn to page 98.
Use pure finesse, whipping with your wrist rather than your whole body, and lashing the same weal again and again? Turn to page 100.

Page 96

You lash the guest’s buttocks at full force, driving your arm home with brute strength. The effect on the guest is certainly alarming. “Gracious, girl! You’re whipping me like a wife who’s caught her husband cheating!”

You lash him again and again, without pulling back, hoping to end the contest fast.

If you have the trait ‘Strength’ Turn to page 97.
If not, read on.

It is a mistake. Although the first six strokes have him hopping, your own strength soon begins to flag. After he has endured your strongest strokes, the final dozen at the end are easy to endure. Infuriatingly, he even laughs at you during the last six. “I see you are an amateur, girl. Don’t worry, I’ll show you how it’s done soon enough.”

At the last stroke, which you vengefully cut as deep as you can, you let out a cry of defeat. Clearly the guest is very far from broken.

The steward takes the cane from your hand, as the guest rises smugly, pulling up his trousers. “Best you could expect from a girl, I suppose,” he says patronisingly. “Now it’s my turn…”

Turn to page 102.

Page 97

You’re not really using the cane correctly – it’s not an implement of brute force. But in the hands of a girl as strong as you, the distinction is very fine.

You bombard the guest’s buttocks, your strength never tiring as you thrash full force with each stroke. The cane snaps against his hairy bum skin in all directions, without any aesthetic. Still – the effect is powerful enough. At the seventeenth stroke, his resolve finally breaks.

“Enough! Enough! I concede!” he cries, his eyes moist and his backside glowing. “Hells below! You whip like the very devil! Get this madwoman out of here!” he roars.

“Very good, sir,” bows the steward, who swiftly removes you from the room. He looks angry, but more than a touch fearful at the display he has just witnessed. “Now, perhaps we can proceed to Mistress Jessica’s chambers without any further interruption?”

You nod shaking from your exertions. You got out of that one – but only just…

Turn to page 180.

Page 98

Vip! You land the first stroke, even and hard across the centre of his buttocks. The guest barely grunts.

Vip! You unleash the second, just a tiny bit higher than the first. Still little reaction.

Vip! Vip! You continue your methodical beating, with little outward sign, bar the glowing red track lines upon his buttocks, that you are making progress. Have you chosen the wrong tactic?

If you have an Ambition of 8, Turn to page 99.
If not, read on.

After a dozen strokes, evenly timed, you lose confidence. The guest is still not showing signs of obvious discomfort. You try a few experimental hard cuts, out of time to dislodge his complacency. Then he utters the deadly works. “Ah ha! I’ve got you!”

You despair! Your strokes were having an effect on him after all, but now he realises you’ve lost your confidence. Reduce your Willpower by 1. You try to make up for your failings with your last desperate strokes, but the guest’s fortitude is unbreakable.

At the last stroke, which you vengefully cut as deep as you can, you let out a cry of defeat. Clearly the guest is very far from broken.

The steward takes the cane from your hand, as the guest rises smugly, pulling up his trousers. “Best you could expect from a girl, I suppose,” he says patronisingly. “Now it’s my turn…”

Turn to page 102.

Page 99

You refuse to doubt your abilities, mechanically beating him with the meticulousness of a metronome. At the final half dozen, the guest’s fortitude begins to crack.

“Ah! Ahh! Ahhh!” he cries with each ruthless, perfectly timed stroke. And then, at the 22nd stroke, he lets out a cry of defeat, leaping to his feet, clutching his buttocks in agony. “No! Enough! Please!” he whimpers.

You smile to yourself and lower the cane. You’ve won. Raise one of your attributes by 1 point.

“Damn well lashed, Madame! You’ll make a searing mistress one day!” grins the guest, still rubbing his blazing backside.

“Thank you, sir,” you bow, grinning.

“Will there be anything else, sir?” inquires the steward.

“No – that will be all, I’d best get ready for the party – better bring a cushion!”

“Very good, sir,” bows the steward, leading you out of the room. “Now, perhaps we can proceed to Mistress Jessica’s chambers without any further interruption?”

You nod and smile, feeling more powerful than ever. Gain 1 Fame point, as tales of your caning skill are sure to spread around the manor.

Turn to page 180.

Page 100

You’ve heard that the best caners barely have to move at all to have their victims howling in agony. The question is, will you be able to cane to that level of skill?

Vip! You start with a lash to the guest’s top buttocks, which he was not expecting, causing a grunt to emit from his lips.

Vip! A nasty shot, catching him on his hip, makes him bleat in annoyance. “I say, girl, do it properly!”

Vip! A stroke to his lower buttocks, just where they meet his fat thighs has him jumping.

It seems to be working – but will it be enough?

If you have a Dignity of 6 or more, Turn to page 101.
if not, read on.

You continue to lash his bum with stingy little whips, but after a while the effect wears off. The strokes are more of an annoyance than a trial, and though he grunts through his set, he never seems in obvious discomfort.

At the last stroke, which you vengefully cut as deep as you can, you let out a cry of defeat. Clearly the guest is very far from broken.

The steward takes the cane from your hand, as the guest rises smugly, pulling up his trousers. “Best you could expect from a girl, I suppose,” he says patronisingly. “Now it’s my turn…”

Turn to page 102.

Page 101

With perfect politeness, you request that your guest open his legs and keep them there, as you wish to ‘tickle him’ in places inaccessible in a leg’s closed position.

Your lady like decorum catches him off guard, and he agrees, shuffling a leg out of his trousers to stretch his feet wide apart.

With devilish glee, you begin to include his bottom crack and arsehole as viable targets for your whippy cane, causing the man to howl at the maddening sting. Several times he shuts his legs, insisting the area should remain off limits – but at a firm, but polite request from you, his shaking thighs open up, only for your whippy cane to snap into his crack again!

Vip! Vip! Vip!

“Enough! Oh, please, enough!” he cries at the fifteenth cut, unable to bear any more, rising to clutch his wounded globes in agony.

You smile to yourself and lower the cane. You’ve won. Raise one of your attributes by 1 point.

“Damn well lashed, Madame! You’ll make a searing mistress one day!” grins the guest, still rubbing his blazing backside.

“Thank you, sir,” you bow, grinning.

“Will there be anything else, sir?” inquires the steward.

“No – that will be all, I’d best get ready for the party – I’d better bring a cushion!”

“Very good, sir,” bows the steward, leading you out of the room. “Now, perhaps we can proceed to Mistress Jessica’s chambers without any further interruption?”

You nod and smile, feeling more powerful than ever. Gain 1 Fame point, as tales of your caning skill are sure to spread around the manor.

Turn to page 180.

Page 102

“We’ll have all your clothes off, I think,” muses the guest, as he is passed the cane by the steward. “No sense in having anything falling in the way of cane and bum, is there?”

You swallow at this unfairness, but your gloom at your defeat has broken your will. “Of course, sir.”

It does not take long to strip your kitchen rags from your trembling body, and soon you stand naked before the grinning guest. Lower your Dignity by 1.

“Bend over, girl,” instructs the guest proudly, “the steward will see to it that you are restrained.”

You bend over the edge of the desk, still warm from the guest’s body. Your hands and ankles are swiftly tied to the legs of the desk by the skilled steward, and soon you are helpless, your pale buttocks gleaming in the candlelight, awaiting their taste of the cane.

“I say, what a superb crupper!” he says, admiring your arse. “Quite the rival of any in my pony stables. I’ll tell you what, girl, if you’ve any spare time, why don’t you volunteer to spend some time at the stables? There’s a big race coming up, and the Master has asked me to put on a good show. Have a think about it, anyway…”

You feel a tap on the cane upon your bottom. “Well, back to business, eh? Bare arsed thrashing!”

The following ordeal is exquisitely awful. His strength roused through his desire for revenge, the guest cuts you to the quick with a lashing that seems to go on forever. Never hurried, he lets you absorb each searing stroke, your buttocks clenching, your voice moaning, until you hit your peak of agony, upon which he unleashes another, frequently atop the same welt he just struck.

It is a humbling caning, quite the superior to the one you inflicted on him. Reduce your Ambition by 1 point.

You are unable to break position or terminate the caning early, and suffer through twenty four strokes of burning agony, your drooling lips slack with moaning, and your face streaked with tears. Raise your Bum Status by 5 levels.

At the conclusion of the caning, the guest cranes his mouth down to your ear. “Now that’s a proper caning – don’t you agree?”

“Yes, sir,” you moan, adding a “thank you, sir,” for good measure.

Diminished in failure you are released from your bonds, your backside scorching.

“Would sir care to use the girl for his pleasure?” enquires the steward.

“No,” grunts the guest. “I’ve shot my load in the other maid slave already. Besides, I have to prepare for the party.”

“Very good, sir,” nods the steward, who bows before leading you from the room. He turns to you. “Perhaps we can now continue on to Mistress Jessica without further interruption?”

“Yes, sir,” you whimper, clutching your scalding cheeks.

Turn to page 180.

Page 103

“Forty Eight strokes? Are you mad?” cries the guest in amazement. “I can’t refuse a challenge – but our backsides will be bleeding raw after so many strokes. Still, it’s your decision. Steward, be a good man and flick a coin will you? Heads I go first. Tails it’s the girl.”

The steward does as he is bid, spinning the coin in the air. “Tails, sir,” he confesses, sharing the result with both of you.

You gasp in shock and dread? What have you done? Forty eight strokes – just before seeing the Master? But you cannot go back on your word now…

The guest grins and invites you into his room, decorated in warm burgundy and comfortable furniture. He indicates his writing desk. “This shall be the scene of your humbling,” he declares. “I fear that forty eight strokes guarantees me victory. I do not want to be short changed, so I shall have to ask the steward to restrain you. But first, you’ll remove your clothes – the sight of a woman’s naked body churning in bondage is something I will not be deprived of…”

You are about to object, but you feel the powerful steward behind you. Truly you have no choice. You took a gamble with a high number of strokes, and it has played into your opponent’s favour.

It does not take long to strip your kitchen rags from your trembling body, and soon you stand naked before the grinning guest.

“Bend over, girl,” instructs the guest proudly, “the steward will see to it that you are restrained.”

You bend over the edge of the desk. Your hands and ankles are swiftly tied to the legs of the desk by the skilled steward, and soon you are helpless, your pale buttocks gleaming in the candlelight, awaiting their taste of the cane. You twitch and shiver at your certain doom – after forty eight stokes you will be mewling.

The guest taps his cane against your bum for a full minute, taunting you, and in no hurry to begin. It is rare that a girl volunteers for so many strokes, and the guest has no intention of spoiling the moment through haste.

Finally, the cane begins to descend.

Vip! You grunt as the guest unleashes a powerful stroke into your mid-cheeks. The man is no stranger to the cane…

Vip! Vip!

You cannot help but cry out at two more firm strokes to your clenching buttocks, which leave bright red lines of fire across your bum.

Vip! Vip! Vip!

The pace is unrelenting, the strokes agony. You have no hope of clinging on for a victory. You mew, you cry out, you scream, but nothing softens the relentless cuts of the cane upon your exposed and vulnerable bottom.

The first dozen are bearable – just. But the second dozen have you bucking and crying, your bum sliced again and again, the raw knowledge that there are just as many to go as there are behind shattering your will.

Towards the end of the third dozen you are a broken, sobbing wretch, pleading for mercy – any kind of mercy. Anything to stop the awful decent of the guest’s cane upon your buttocks.

“Your Master has given me carte-blanch to whip you as I please,” shrugs the guest, as he delivers another stinging stroke to your backside.

Vip!

“Uhh!” you moan. “Oh, please, sir – have pity! I will do anything!”

“Anything?” inquires the guest with a smile.

“Anything, anything! Oh, please!”

The guest turns to the steward. “Has this girl performed the pledge of allegiance to the Master yet?”

The steward seems surprised. “No, sir,” he concedes. “She was due to perform that tonight.”

The guest grins. “Pledge allegiance to me, then, girl,” he commands, stroking the cane against your bum. “My name is Mr. Sullivan. I now claim you as my slave girl, to serve me as I see fit for all time. Do you accept my ownership?”

Vip! Mr. Sullivan lashes your scalding bum with his cane to speed your answer.

There is no choice – you just cannot take any more! “Yes! Yes – I am your slave! I take you as my master!” you grovel, tears dripping from your cheeks.

With these fatal words your life changes forever. Although you are spared the rest of your caning, you can only begin to imagine the life of degradation that awaits you as Mr. Sullivan’s slave.

The next day you leave the manor in chains, and are taken to Mr. Sullivan’s private pony farm. There you spend the rest of your days naked, in a harness, pulling carts for Sullivan, his sadistic wife and their descendants, the taste of the whip never far from your back or bottom. You sleep in a filthy stable with other slave girls, used as beasts of labour or pleasure for Mr. Sullivan and his pony club friends. It is a life without dignity, cold, hard, servile – with the memories of the Master’s manor now a lost and distant dream.

Your adventure ends here.

Page 104

The guest considers this a moment, stroking Gillian’s scalding bum thoughtfully. “No,” he finally decides. “I think it would be more pertinent if I punished both of you. Something fun – something to make your bottoms jiggle.”

“Very good, sir,” nods the steward, standing behind you threateningly.

You groan. You knew that the mistresses have to accept when another slave offers to take a beating on their behalf. Obviously this doesn’t apply to the Master’s guests!

The guest leads you and Gillian into his quarters, and instructs the pair of you to strip, and kneel on the end of the bed, bums together.

Gillian is obeying before you can even object, and sensing the inevitability of the situation you reluctantly strip and join Gillian, who is now crouching on all fours upon the bed.

“I say, what a superb crupper!” the guest says, admiring your arse. “Quite the rival of any in my pony stables. I’ll tell you what, girl, if you’ve any spare time, why don’t you volunteer to spend some time at the stables? There’s a big race coming up, and the Master has asked me to put on a good show. Have a think about it, anyway…”

At this, the guest retrieves a large wooden paddle from his desk drawer, with holes drilled into the wood to beat the air resistance. “Just until you’ve got some nice red bottoms,” he shrugs, “never say I’m a cruel man!”

Whap! Whap! Whap!

One after the other, Gillian and you are beaten in turn, yelping under the heavy strokes of the paddle. It quickly makes your bum sore, but it is obvious that the guest is more interested in watching your bottoms jiggle than inflicting any real harm.

Whap! Whap! Whap!

You take about two dozen each, giving a theatrical moan at each stroke to flatter the guest. Eventually, your bums a shiny red, he declares your punishment over. Raise your Bum Status by 2 levels.

“I understand that girls must stick together,” the guest muses, “but a guest’s wishes are paramount. Try to remember that in the future, girls.”

“Yes, sir!” you chime in unison.

The steward escorts you from the guest’s chambers, shaking his head sadly. Gillian herself also doesn’t seem amused. “So I get a spanking and a paddling! Thanks for nothing new girl!”

The cleaning girl storms off, rubbing her sore bottom as she goes.

“Perhaps,” suggests the steward, “we can now continue on to Mistress Jessica without further interruption?”

“Yes, sir,” you whimper, clutching your sore cheeks.

Turn to page 180.

Page 105

It has been some time since you stepped outside of the manor, and the warm sun upon your body feels very welcome. The steward escorts you to the stables, which turn out to be a very grand affair, with numerous outbuildings, storage and groom’s houses, as well as a full sized race course. The only things missing are the horses. Instead girl-slaves, harnesses up, practically naked, fill the yard – metal bits between their teeth, their hair bunched up into long pony tails. Many are being made to pull carts, with boisterous and often overweight guests in them, who disdainfully whip the straining pony girls as they transport their leering cargo.

The stables are evidently popular with the guests, and finely dressed men and women, dressed in various historical garb discuss the attributes of the pony girls who pass – often less than courteously.

The steward leads you forward until you arrive at a great sawmill, where semi-naked girl slaves are building and painting more pony carts for the Master. Cruel overseers stand over them, some of them mistresses, but many are burly looking men employed solely for the pleasure of keeping the labourers in line. Standing amongst the overseers, in a tweed jacket and riding gear, is the guest who invited you to the pony stables. He is a portly, but dignified looking gentleman, very much looking like the man in charge.

“Mr. Sullivan,” drones the steward, “here is the girl who requested to meet with you.”

“Ah! Top hole!” he cries, looking upon you with glittering eyes.

Do you have the codeword HEADS? If so, Turn to page 106.
Do you have the codeword TAILS? If so, Turn to page 107.

“This little filly was practically begging to be whopped!” he confides to his fellow guests, who laugh throatily. “Best crupper I’ve seen all year!”

You flush with embarrassment, but remain silent.

“Now, listen up girl,” he says, addressing you directly. “You’ve seen the kind of place I run. I’m not a fair employer, but I do give every filly that passes through my stables the chance for glory. But I’m a guest – not the Master himself – and that means you get the chance to back out now, because pony-carting is optional. Well – are you game? Or are you gone?”

You gaze around at the other girl’s, sweating under the lash, and groaning in their harnesses. What do you do? Agree to become a pony girl? Turn to page 108.
Ask to return to the manor? Turn to page 109.

Page 106

“Well!” he cries. “If it isn’t the master’s prized martinet! A devilishly good thrasher, this one! Took a dozen strokes from her! Gave as good as I got, of course…”

His friends grin, but look upon you with a certain admiration. Raise your Dignity by 1.

“I’ll need that fighting spirit of yours on the track … but that chip on your shoulder? That will have to come off. There’s no room for pride in a pony girl, mark my words.”

You remain impassive, but inwardly sneer. It would take a lot for Mr. Sullivan to knock the pride out of you!

Page 107

“Well – if it isn’t that cringing milksop who thinks herself a whipper!” laughs Mr. Sullivan derisively. “I gave this cringing hussy two dozen of the very best – looks like she’s back for more! Come – why don’t you show my friends the work I’ve done on your bottom? I’m sure they’d like to see?”

There is a general roar of accent from the other guests, and, at a prompting shove from the steward, you are pushed over the edge of a half built cart – your skirt flipped over to reveal the curved moons of your naked buttocks.

If you do not have a submission score of at least 5, you feel humiliated by Mr. Sullivan’s cruel usage of you. Lose 1 dignity point.

“Shame – looks like they’ve faded away,” he concedes. “But don’t worry, I’ll soon put that right!”

One of the guests passes Mr. Sullivan a riding crop, which he proceeds to use upon your buttocks with some vigour.

Vap! Vap! Vap!

It is a perfunctory beating, lacking the skill he demonstrated before – it’s intention to simply reinforce his dominance over you, and provide a humorous show for his friends. Still, after just over a dozen, it is more than enough to raise the temperature in your bottom. Raise your Bum Status by 2 levels.

After your bottom is inspected approvingly by the other guests Mr Sullivan allows you to rise.

Page 108

“Marvellous!” he laughs. “I knew you were a game girl – and with an arse like that you’re sure to go down well with the punters! In six weeks comes the annual Pony Girl race. The Master himself will be entering a filly, so it’s sure to be a full crowd. From this moment on, until the end of that race, your body becomes my property, to use as I see fit. I intend to strip away that pride and arrogance and turn you into a lean, efficient Pony girl. If you really want to win, and earn the admiration of your peers, you will assist me in this aim by bending utterly to my will. Not, of course, that you have a choice…”

An hour later you have been transformed. Your clothes and possessions have been taken, replaced by a harness that covers only your waist and ankle chains that limit your movements to a shuffle. Your hair has been tied into a tight pony tail that bobs, along with your naked breasts, as you push against a grinding wheel with several other pony girls in training, your efforts helping to grind up cereals from the local farms.

If you have the special ointment from Mrs. Kent, cross it off your list of traits. It has been confiscated. Alas, another slave girl liberates it in your absence, using it to sooth her own sore bottom at the expense of your own.

If you have the Mark of Shame, cross it off your list of weaknesses. Pony Girls are all treated equally shamefully.

If you have the weakness ‘I can’t wear that’, note that your costume is obscene. Consequently, until you no longer wear you pony harness, your Dignity will always be considered to be 1, no matter what score you actually have.

During your labours you and the other girls are frequently whipped by the overseers, including the smirking Mr. Sullivan, if he thinks you are moving to slowly, or displaying signs of ladylike pomp and arrogance. Raise your Bum Status by 1 level. You are unable to object, being firmly chained to the push bar of the wheel, forcing you to endure the untender mercies of Mr. Sullivan and his beastly supervisors.

Do you: Give in to the whip, knuckle down and heave on the wheel, abandoning all pretence at decorum? Turn to page 110.
Continue to push on the wheel, but refuse to abandon your dignity, maintaining your bearing even as you are whipped? Turn to page 111.

Page 109

Mr. Sullivan frowns. “Pity – I thought you had more spunk,” he grumbles. “Don’t think a girl is up to much if she can’t take a dare. But so be it.”

He snaps his fingers, and soon the steward begins to march you back to the manor.

Cross off the codeword PONY.

Turn to page 216.

Page 110

You apply your shoulder to the wheel and heave with all your might, the other girls forced to do the same as the wheel accelerates.

The other guests laugh and jeer as you surrender to Mr. Sullivan’s wishes, and he beams proudly as you grunt and groan at the wheel, uncaring that your widely spaced legs and bent position are showing all your assets to the leering crowd.

Lose 1 Dignity point, but gain 1 Submission point as you sacrifice your pride for Mr. Sullivan.

After half an hour at the wheel, you begin to falter. One of the girls collapses from exhaustion, and you are all whipped soundly as the grinding wheel stops, the lashes biting into your backsides with searching venom. Raise your Bum Status by 1 level.

What do you do? Yell at the fallen girl to get back up and start pushing? Turn to page 112.
Ask that the girl be cut free – you offer to take up her slack? Turn to page 113.
Or insist that you are too tired to continue? Turn to page 114.

Page 111

“Come on, girl! This isn’t a family outing! Heave harder you lazy trollop!” barks one of the supervisors as you push against the wheel with restrained dignity. The overseer attempts to lash obedience into your bottom, his whip striking you repeatedly. Raise your Bum Status by 2 levels. Regardless, you refuse you give in, and whilst the other girls press their shoulders to the wheel, their private holes on obvious display to the leering punters, you manage to maintain a quiet dignity even as you are lashed.

Add one to your Dignity, but lose one Submission point. Mr Sullivan frowns – he has a long way to go with you.

Page 112

You scream at the girl to rise, as the overseers lash your defenceless behind.

If you have an Ambition score of 4 or more, the girl rises, frightened as much by your loud voice as the overseers whips. If not, it takes a good deal more patient whipping to get the girl up – all of you suffering for her weakness. Raise your Bum Status by 3 levels.

You continue to grind away at the wheel, chilly night beginning to settle in, freezing your limbs and naked extremities. Slowly the guests begin to peel away, beginning to become bored with the spectacle, seeking more pleasurable pursuits at the manor.

Mr. Sullivan, however, continues to watch you keenly, as your exhausted bodies heave against the wheel that must have, by now, grinded the wheat into a fine dust. “Keep pushing, ponies,” he grows, fingering his crop menacingly.

You realise this had become a battle – all in Mr. Sullivan’s favour. He wants you to break and surrender, and plead for clemency.

What do you do? Give in, and throw yourself upon Mr. Sullivan’s mercy? Turn to page 115.
Grit your teeth and keep pushing? Turn to page 116.

Page 113

Such an act of mercy is unheard of in pony girl training, and Mr. Sullivan raises his eyebrows in surprise. The guests look at him nonplussed. Finally, he shrugs. “Why not!” he laughs. “I’m game – but beware, filly, that wheel must turn just as fast without her – otherwise it’s your backside that will pay the price!”

The collapsed girl is unchained from the wheel, the other girls shaking their heads in amazement. Once she is clear, the overseer cracks his whip hard, and you and the two remaining girls heave against the wheel. It seems twice as heavy without her, and you groan in anguish at the increasing strain.

If you have the trait Strong, you are powerful enough to take the strain, and soon the wheel is moving again at the same speed. Mr. Sullivan’s look of surprise is enough to bolster your reserves of strength. Add one to your Willpower.

If you do not have this trait, the wheel shudders along at a slothful pace. Soon the supervisors are whipping your bums fiercely, and the cries of tormented Pony girls echo across the grounds. Raise your Bum Status by 3 levels.

Mr. Sullivan, however, continues to watch you keenly, as your exhausted bodies continue to heave against the wheel that must have, by now, grinded the wheat into a fine dust. “Keep pushing, ponies,” he grows, fingering his crop menacingly.

You realise this had become a battle – all in Mr. Sullivan’s favour. He wants you to break and surrender, and plead for clemency.

What do you do? Give in, and throw yourself upon Mr. Sullivan’s mercy? Turn to page 115.
Grit your teeth and keep pushing? Turn to page 116.

Page 114

“A pathetic display!” cries Mr. Sullivan, as he watches you pant exhaustedly over the wheel. “Supervisors! Take these lazy ponies away – four dozen each with the crop should fortify them for next time. I’ll deal the strokes to the ringleader myself!”

You are too exhausted to offer any resistance as the supervisors unchain you and the other pony girls from the wheel and carry you bodily to the warehouse. Once there, you are bent over storage crates, the other girls unceremoniously whipped by the supervisors in a cold-hearted display of cruelty.

Mr. Sullivan himself sees to your punishment, flexing his riding crop in both hands as he views your trembling buttocks. “You’ll obviously need some patient breaking-in, filly,” he says, leering at his target, patting the end of the crop against your proffered bottom. “But don’t worry – I’m just the man to do it…”

Vap! Vap! Vap!

You bottom dances under a steady, fierce cropping from Mr. Sullivan, his sharp blows causing you to squeak and whinny as he bastes your buttocks. Raise your Bum Status by 4 levels.

At the culmination of this vigorous whipping, Mr. Sullivan clicks his fingers, allowing an orderly to take you to your stables.

Turn to page 118.

Page 115

Mr. Sullivan lets out a gloating laugh. “Never mind, filly,” he jeers, “we’ll soon toughen you up. Two dozen lashes with the crop should make you consider next time you want to nap on the job…”

Vap! Vap! Vap!

You bottom dances under a steady, hard cropping from Mr. Sullivan, his sharp blows causing you to squeak whinny as he bastes your buttocks. Raise your Bum Status by 2 levels.

After your two dozen strokes Mr. Sullivan clicks his fingers, allowing an orderly to take you to your stables.

Turn to page 118.

Page 116

Your reserves are almost spent, and the wheel turns with agonising slowness. The supervisors crack their whips upon your bottom in an attempt to give you motivation. Raise your Bum Status by 1 level.

You need a reason to keep pushing the wheel, even though your body is frozen, and your aching limbs are exhausted.

If you have a Willpower of 6, you are able to put aside your physical suffering and keep on pushing. Turn to page 117.

If you have a Submission of 6, you submerge your will completely to Mr. Sullivan, and keep pushing because that’s what pony girls are supposed to do. Turn to page 117.

If not, you finally collapse, unable to push any longer, the sweat dripping down your frozen body. Mr. Sullivan applauds himself as you stumble into the mud. “I knew I’d break you, filly – just a matter of time. Still, I think you’ve worked hard enough for one day. Take the girls to their paddocks! They have a busy day tomorrow!”

Reduce your Dignity by 1.

Turn to page 118.

Page 117

You, and the other frozen pony girls, are still pushing the wheel when Mr. Sullivan finally calls time. “Enough!” he roars, rubbing his hands together. “I’m freezing. Take the ponies back to their paddocks – they have a busy day tomorrow!”

The supervisors unlock your exhausted bodies from the wheel, Mr. Sullivan deigning to unlock you personally. “You’re a hardened bit of fluff – I’ll give you that,” he concedes ruefully. “But I’ll break you in the end, mark my words!”

You may raise one of your attributes by 1 point for this victory.

Now Turn to page 118.

Page 118

You are confined to the wheel for many days, pushing the same bar around and around for many exhausting and maddening hours. As the days pass new accoutrements are added to your pony costume. A collar and bit are attached, effectively silencing you. Reigns are attached to the sides of the bit, allowing the supervisors greater control over your movements. Finally, on the fourth day, the final humiliation, as a large anal dildo, complete with horsehair tail, is inserted into you to complete your look.

If you do not have a Submission score of at least 7 you must lose 1 Dignity point as you are paraded uncomfortably past the crowds.

However, as you get used to your new role as a pony girl you manage to avoid the lash more and more, healing slowly over many days. Reduce your Bum Status by 3 levels.

Finally, after more than a week, you are taken off grinding wheel duty, and begin your training as cart pony. Since it is no longer necessary for you to have use of your hands, your supervisors secure them behind your back with leather cuffs which are built into your harness.

Mr. Sullivan proudly displays the cart you will be pulling, a lightweight but ornate steel and wood carriage with a comfortable seat for the rider. You are connected to the carriage by two long poles which insert into loops of leather on your harness, just above your hips.

You grunt through your bit as the heavy Mr. Sullivan clambers into his seat, and you take the strain of his weight. He takes your reigns, and, with a crack of his whip commands you forward.

What do you do? Attempt to throw Mr. Sullivan? Turn to page 119.
Pull away gently, with as much grace as you can? Turn to page 124.
Pull away as fast as possible, regardless of poise and grace? Turn to page 125.

Page 119

You jump and whinny, rocking from side to side in an attempt to dislodge Mr. Sullivan.

“Bad pony!” he cries, lashing your exposed buttocks with his whip. Raise your Bum Status by 1 level.

It is no good; there is just not enough leverage to tip the cart. You will have to plan something else.

Will you? Refuse to budge from the spot, staying stubbornly still? Turn to page 120.
Pull away gently, with as much grace as you can? Turn to page 124.
Pull away as fast as possible, regardless of poise and grace? Turn to page 125.

Page 120

You enter a fierce battle of wills with Mr. Sullivan. Your owner is outraged at your impertinence and lashes your buttocks, back and breasts freely. “I said ‘giddy-up’ you broken old nag! Move it!”

Raise your Bum Status by 2 levels.

Surely the man can whip you until you’re broken? Can you really oppose him in your diminished state?

Will you? Pull away gently, with as much grace as you can? Turn to page 124.
Pull away as fast as possible, regardless of poise and grace? Turn to page 125.
Or, if you have an Ambition score of 6 or more, you can remain stubbornly still if you wish. Turn to page 121.

Page 121

A small crowd gathers to watch the ensuing battle. Mr. Sullivan is in a rage to be so publicly embarrassed, and whips you powerfully, the lash biting scarlet weals into your bottom. Raise your Bum Status by 3 levels.

“I say – this filly has some spirit, eh?” mutters one of the guests.

“Spirit, but no brains,” comments another. “The lash always wins in the end.”

Gain 1 Dignity and Willpower point for your heroic standoff.

None the less, the lash is beginning to bite.

Will you? Still remain immobile (only if your Willpower or Ambition is 8 or higher). Turn to page 122.
Pull away gently, with as much grace as you can? Turn to page 124.
Pull away as fast as possible, regardless of poise and grace? Turn to page 125.

Page 122

The lash continues to fall again and again on your defenceless behind. Mr. Sullivan refuses to give way, and blocks out the public commentary to focus entirely on your writhing, reddened buttocks. Raise your Bum Status by 3 levels.

Victory seems impossible. Now, even the crowd seem to be getting bored by your defiance.

What will you do? Refuse to give in, although only wilful stubbornness can get you further (only if your Ambition is 9 or more). Turn to page 123.
Pull away gently, with as much grace as you can? Turn to page 124.
Pull away as fast as possible, regardless of poise and grace? Turn to page 125.

Page 123

Finally, exhausted from constantly thrashing you, the laughter of the crowd ringing in his ears, Mr. Sullivan relents. “Enough!” he cries. “I won’t waste my time on such a stubborn filly! You are released from my service in disgrace! Send her back to the manor!”

You sigh in relief as Sullivan alights from the cart, your searing backside craving comfort. Two overseers disconnect you from the cart, and begin to remove your pony girl exterior.

“Bad pony!” chastises one, appalled at your behaviour, storming off with your tail and bit in his hands.

“Ignore him,” grins the other, “you’ve done something amazing today. You’re the only pony girl Mr. Sullivan couldn’t break. That’s got to be worth something!”

Indeed it is. Gain 3 Fame points, and add one to your dignity and willpower.

You are escorted back to the manor. Turn to page 216.

Page 124

You pull away at a light gallop, raising your knees high in a manner similar to some of the other pony girls you have seen cantering around the grounds. You keep your body rigid and straight, with only your breasts bouncing merrily to your canter.

Unfortunately, Mr. Sullivan is not amused. “No, no, no!” he cried, lashing your bum with a whip stroke, that stings appallingly. “You’re not a dressage pony – you’re a racing pony. Giddy up! Giddy up!”

He lashed your buttocks several times to make a point. Raise your Bum Status by 1 level.

Realising grace is not an option, you quickly speed up.

Turn to page 126.

Page 125

You grunt loudly, and heave with all your might against the harness. Bent double, your breasts swing in front of you, to a great cheer from the watching guests, as you stride forwards.

“That’s a girl! That’s my pony! Let me see those buttocks churn!” jeers Mr. Sullivan, pleased with your performance.

Reduce your Dignity by 1.

Turn to page 126.

Page 126

You dash forwards over the bumpy track, your bare feet kicking away loose stones as you thunder onwards. The cart is heavy, and moving it faster than a snail’s pace is exhausting. Mr. Sullivan encourages you onwards with both compliments and the whip, which lash your exposed buttocks as you heave with all your might.

Raise your Bum Status by 1 level.

Your breasts bounce freely as you jog, and Mr. Sullivan can’t resist the urge to curl his whip beneath them as they bounce high, causing you to whinny in complaint.

“Come on, girl – you can go faster than that! Onwards!” urges Mr. Sullivan joyously.

If you have a Willpower of 5 or more, or if you have the trait ‘Strong’ Turn to page 127.
If not, Turn to page 128.

Page 127

Compared with pushing that infernal wheel, pulling this cart is child’s play. You increase your speed steadily until you are dashing forwards, the rolling cart behind you almost pushing you faster as you run. Mr. Sullivan gives a whoop of joy as you accelerate faster and faster.

“Oh! We’ll make a racing pony out of you yet, girl! Mark my words!” he cries, in what passes for him as a compliment.

Turn to page 129.

Page 128

The cart is so heavy, pulling it any faster seems impossible, and you moan out in complaint. Mr. Sullivan is patient … with his whipping. Refusing to let you slack, he whips you with greater intensity, and soon your breasts and buttocks are criss-crossed with encouraging welts.

“Faster, you whining nag! Faster!” he booms.

Raise your Bum Status by 3 levels.

The whip is a superb motivator, and soon you have reached a speed more to Mr. Sullivan’s liking.

Turn to page 129.

Page 129

You thunder along, the wheels of the pony cart rattling loudly as you drive forwards. The sweat is pouring down your body, and your limbs, buttocks and breasts are shining and slick. For a while you seem in tune with the cart as you dash ever onwards, the whip never far from your backside.

Raise your Bum Status by 1 level.

Eventually, though, you begin to flag and slow. Mr. Sullivan does not seem too disappointed in you however, and has you trot back to the stables to be released from the cart.

“Not bad for a first day,” he concedes. “Might even consider riding you at big race. Mind you – you’re still too reserved to be a winner – too obsessed with how you look rather than what you’re doing … we’ll have to whip that out of you. Geoffrey, feed and water her, then take her back to the stables!”

The supervisor does as he is instructed, and soon you have collapsed onto your straw bed in an exhausted sleep.

Turn to page 130.

Page 130

Over the next couple of weeks your stamina and speed is built up, as Mr. Sullivan takes you out for a daily ride.

What is your attitude to your training? Will you be difficult, sullen, and challenging for your rider? Turn to page 131.
Will you instinctively obey and defer to Mr. Sullivan’s wishes, putting your own needs aside? Turn to page 132.
Or are you determined to win the race – so you push longer and harder than even Mr. Sullivan desires? Turn to page 133.

Page 131

You make life miserable for Mr. Sullivan. Sometimes you stop and refuse to budge, other times you pull in the opposite direction. Often, when mock racing with other pony girls, you pull back at the last moment, making sure Mr. Sullivan loses.

Needless to say, none of this behaviour impresses Mr. Sullivan. Raise your Bum Status by 3 levels as you endure nightly whipping from your irate master.

“If you think I’m riding you in the race with that attitude, you’re gravely mistaken!” snaps Mr. Sullivan, after one of your particularly ferocious whippings.

You smile to yourself – Mr. Sullivan can’t keep you down! Raise your Ambition by 1.

Turn to page 134.

Page 132

You banish all thoughts of self-determination from your head, and debase yourself to the level of an animal. You give up the privilege of talking, even when your bit is removed. You go faster or slower at Mr. Sullivan’s command, no matter how much your body aches or his whip stings. You glow with pride at his crude compliments and shrivel with shame at his curses. Truly, you have become his steed in all ways.

Raise your Submission by 1, but reduce your Dignity by 1.

You can lower your Bum Status by 3 levels, as Mr. Sullivan seldom lashes you, except for enjoyment.

“Keep this up, girl, and I’ll definitely consider riding you at the big race. Just imagine! You’ll be the envy of all the other ponies!”

Turn to page 134.

Page 133

You obey Mr. Sullivan’s commands – but push yourself harder than even he recommends. You work on building your speed, accelerating even when you are commanded to slow – and take dangerous shortcuts on the track to try to shave off a few extra seconds. This is your one chance to impress the Master, and you won’t let the opportunity pass you by.

Gain 1 Willpower point for your determination.

Mr. Sullivan is not wholly pleased with your over-enthusiasm. “Damn it, girl! You must bend completely to my will! I’m the one in charge – you go where I tell you! You’re too headstrong! I need a mount I can trust!”

Mr. Sullivan impresses his wishes upon you with numerous whipping sessions, meaning your backside never gets the chance to heal during your training. You can only hope Mr. Sullivan changes his mind about riding you in the race – to compete neck and neck with the Master is all you desire!

Turn to page 134.

Page 134

One morning Mr. Sullivan does not come to visit you in your stables. And you restlessly pace about in your pony girl harness, looking enviously upon the other ponies being taken out for a canter.

Instead Sadia, Mr. Sullivan’s spoilt daughter, pays you a visit. You have heard the other house slaves talk about Sadia Sullivan on numerous occasions. She is a demanding and cruel guest, who enjoys humiliating the staff as well as whipping them. Fortunately for you, Sadia is a pony girl fanatic, who loves to spoil her ponies rotten.

“Hello filly!” she chirps brightly. “You’re a beautiful girl, aren’t you! Shall we be friends?”

Will you? Snort loudly in acceptance and nod your head? Turn to page 135.
Pretend to accede to her request, but then turn the tables and dominate her? Turn to page 136.
Tell her plainly that you have no interest in being her friend? Turn to page 138.

Page 135

Sadia enters your stables, shouting loudly at the stable boys to bring her dressage equipment. They quickly scamper to obey, terrified at her commands.

You are bathed, scrubbed, and then decorated. Your mane is woven in with flowers, ribbons and tassels attached to your breasts, and even your tail is interwoven with glittering foil. The effect is rather tasteless – but the pampering does wonders for your flagging self esteem. Raise your Dignity by 1.

When she is finished, she suggests taking you out for a ride on the cart to ‘show you off’ to everyone.

“But miss!” cries one of the stable boys. “This pony isn’t broken in, yet. Mr. Sullivan says no one should ride her until he’s…”

“Oh poo! Daddy will forgive me,” pouts Sadia. “Besides, my beautiful pony and I are friends, aren’t we?”

You give a whinny of agreement, but a mischievous thought enters your head. Sadia is probably not so skilled a rider as her father. It would do wonders for your reputation amongst the other slaves back at the manor if it were known you had caused Sadia some embarrassment…

What do you do? Be the perfect pony, and follow her instructions to the letter? Turn to page 139.
Play along for a while, but tip her over on a particularly steep corner when the time is right? Turn to page 140.

Page 136

Sadia calls for her dressage equipment, and the stable boys scamper off at her command. She opens the stable door confidently to pet you, but you have a surprise for her. As she reaches out to stroke your hair you grab her by the wrist and twist her arm behind her back, forcing her to the ground. She squeals in surprise and outrage, but you mute her cries by forcing her head into the water trough. After coughing and spluttering for a few seconds you pull her up.

“I don’t see why I should hog the limelight, do you?” you snarl at her. “I think perhaps it should be you who plays the pony today!”

If your Ambition score is 7 or more, Turn to page 137.
If not, read on.

For a moment she appears to consider your demand, and you relax your grip just a little. It is enough. She squirms out of your grasp and shoves you back into your hay bed, scrambling out of the stables in a desperate hurry.

You think of running from your stables yourself, to escape the wrath of Mr. Sullivan. But to do so would banish you from the Master’s house, and the very thought of that fills you with despair.

It is not long until Mr. Sullivan arrives with two overseers, and his familiar riding crop, which he flexing menacingly in his hands. You see no reason to sacrifice any more of your dignity, and silently turn around and bend over for your punishment, which is delivered soundly.

Vap! Vap! Vap!

Your bottom stings and weals to Mr. Sullivan’s revenge. Raise your Bum Status by 4 levels.

When he has done, and countless strokes mark your sorry bottom, he departs in silence, slamming the gate behind him, leaving you to consider your shame.

Turn to page 141.

Page 137

You chant insistently in Sadia’s ear, never releasing your grip. “Think about it, Sadia. All those ponies you’ve ridden, all those races. Haven’t you wished you were the pony? That is was you pulling your rider to glory, your naked body glimmering in the sunlight, the whip at your back. Admit it – you’re a pony girl at heart!”

Sadia breaks down in a sob. “I admit it! I always wanted to be the pony. But daddy would never allow…”

“Your daddy’s not here, Sadia,” you hiss. “And I’m telling you that you’re my pony girl. You don’t get a choice.”

You release her, to see if she will run. She does not, but instead remains kneeling, water dripping from her face into the water trough. Realising she has submitted you quickly strip off your harness and command her to wear it. For a moment she looks horrified and glances pleadingly at you. Seeing the steely look on your face she relents, stripping naked to squeeze into the tight leather straps that leave her bum, groin and breasts completely exposed. You secure her hands behind her back, and quickly retrieve your riding bit, which you place into her wet, drooling mouth.

Taking her horsewhip you urge her forward. “Come on, pony – time for a ride,” you smile.

There are gasps across stable yard as you emerge from stables atop a cart, naked as the day you were born, being pulled by the virtually nude figure of Mr. Sullivan’s daughter. You lash her bottom and bouncing breasts freely as you veer onto the track, snarling at her to go faster. Sadia obeys, tears pouring from her eyes, though whether from joy or humiliation you are unsure. The guests point and stare as you thunder down the track, laughing as you caress Sadia’s body with the snapping horsewhip.

This event will go down in the manor’s history – the famous tyrant Sadia Sullivan has been tamed. Gain 3 Fame Points.

If you have the trait ‘Sadist’ you may add one to any attribute.

Eventually you are pulled over by the Supervisors, and Sadia collapses onto her knees, panting for breath. Mr. Sullivan emerges in a rage, and has you pulled from the cart. But even his lashing riding crop cannot lessen your victory, and you witness Sadia, now unharnessed from your cart, dash away in mortification from the laughing crowd.

Raise your Bum Status by 4 levels. Unable to summon words angry enough at you he commands the stable hands to throw you back into your stables.

Turn to page 141.

Page 138

Sadia looks positively offended. “How dare you address me! Don’t you know ponies can’t talk?”

“Look – this whole pony girl thing isn’t for me, alright?” you say exasperated. “I just want to compete in the race and get it over with. So thrash me, or whatever, but don’t let’s go through the whole tedious ‘I’m a pony!’ thing, because frankly I’m just too tired.”

Sadia looks confused a moment, but then relents. “Well – I won’t waste any more of your precious time, then. Honestly! You could at lest try to get into the spirit of things here!”

Sadia doesn’t thrash you – she does much worse. She tells all and sundry about your words, and your lack of game spirit. The mistresses, and the Master himself, now have cause to doubt your place in the manor.

Lose 3 Fame points.

Turn to page 141.

Page 139

Sadia has a splendid time cantering you up and down the track to the appreciating applause of the visiting guests. She is not interested in speed, and instead is content to let you amble along as long as you present some poise and grace.

If your Dignity is 3 or less, Sadia finds fault with your performance, presenting your helpless body with a several encouraging lashes. Raise your Bum Status by 1 level.

Sadia’s impromptu show is eventually viewed by some of the senior mistresses, including Mistress Jessica herself! You can’t help but wither slightly on the inside as you watch her smirking face taking in your shameful display. Reduce your Ambition by 2 points.

After the show Sadia has nothing but praise for you. “What a wonderful pony! We’re going to be the best of friends!”

Indeed, she is right. Over the next few days you are laden with treats and snacks that fill your body with energy and vigor. In addition, Mr. Sullivan, secretly pleased with your treatment of his daughter (despite her spoiling of you) lays off the lash considerably. Lower your Bum Status by 2 levels.

Now Turn to page 141.

Page 140

You canter proudly around the track, Sadia gaining much prestige riding such a beautiful and obedient looking pony. That is, until the Master’s favourite, Mistress Jessica arrives to watch – at which point you tip the cart over on a tight corner, causing Sadia to sprawl into the mud.

There is a roar of laughter from the crowd, followed by ripples of applause at Sadia Sullivan’s comeuppance.

Gain 1 Fame point for this trick, and raise your Ambition score by 1. Mistress Jessica is impressed by your defiance.

Mr. Sullivan emerges in a rage, and has you untethered from the cart for some instruction from his whip. But even his lashing riding crop cannot lessen your victory, and you witness Sadia, now dripping with mud, dash away n mortification from the laughing crowd.

Raise your Bum Status by 4 levels. Unable to summon words angry enough at you he commands the stable hands to throw you back into your stables.

Turn to page 141.

Page 141

The race is only two weeks away – and yet you feel somewhat ambivalent. Your training has stalled, Mr. Sullivan riding you less and less as he becomes more enamoured of a new pony in the stables. Most of the other racing ponies remain much faster than you – and you are finding it hard, in any case, to summon up any enthusiasm to make the unbearable and fat Mr. Sullivan win the race.

One day, as you are being led around the track, you are stunned to encounter a familiar figure. It is Veronica, your old enemy from school days. She is hitched up to a magnificent riding cart, decorated in black and gold. Although just a regular stable hand is riding her now, the great crest of the Master is emblazoned across the cart, leaving you in no doubt as to who her rider at the race will be.

Unlike yourself, Veronica’s harness does not include a bit for her mouth, allowing her to speak freely. “Well, if it isn’t my old friend from school,” she laughs. “What a tatty old cart you’re pulling – is that what Sullivan thinks he can score victory with? He’s as pathetic as his steed! Look at you – with your fat tits spilling out of … is that a harness? I thought you were in costume as a beggar!”

She laughs throatily, her rider joining in. You chomp your bit in rage.

“As you can see I’m the Master’s personal filly,” she boasts. “When I win the race I will be showered in glory! And I’ll ask him for a boon! The chance to whip that chubby bum of yours raw!”

Do you have the weakness Schoolgirl Rivalry? If so Turn to page 142.

Veronica trots away, mocking you mercilessly as she goes. You snarl in rage. Now it’s personal! Turn to page 143.

Page 142

You can’t help but cringe pathetically as Veronica insults you. Your mind endlessly flashes back to the long nights in the school dorms where Veronica would lazily lash you, and force you to perform unspeakably shameful acts upon her…

Lose one Ambition point.

“I say, rider!” she calls out to the stable hand riding you. “Run this filly to the ground – and give her a good lashing, and I’ll speak well of you in front of the Master!”

“Yes, miss!” agrees your rider eagerly, applying the lash across your bulging breasts. Your training kicking in, you lurch forwards, eager to escape the gaze of the wicked Veronica.

“As you can see, I always win!” crows Veronica as you haul away. “Just a simple matter of good breeding…”

The stable hand applies his whip hard, causing you to race ahead at full speed in an effort to escape the whip. You soon exhaust yourself and within minutes you stumble to the ground, your backside ablaze with the hounding lash.

Raise your Bum Status by 3 levels and lose 1 Willpower point.

Finally, weakened and sore, you are led back to your stables.

Turn to page 143.

Page 143

You cannot get Veronica’s cruel crowing out of your head. The very idea that she, your worst enemy, is to be the Master’s pony at the race fills you with envy and disgust. You consider your own training at the track. For the last few weeks you’ve not been getting anywhere, you are barely a better racer than when you started.

The next day Mr. Sullivan arrives to take you out. Before he can put the bit into your mouth, you blurt out. “Please, sir, I have to speak with you!”

Mr. Sullivan rolls his eyes. “No talking, pony…”

“But this is important … I … I want to win the race!” you cry. “I know I’ve not been on top form recently … but I truly want to win!”

Mr. Sullivan considers you carefully. “I’ll be frank. I’ve more or less decided not to ride you in the race against the Master. I need a pony that’s totally dedicated. You’re still weeks behind what I would call ready…”

You swallow – you have to ask! “What do I need to be ready?”

“Three things,” shrugs Mr. Sullivan. “The drive to succeed, the mental strength to exceed, and above all, a total submission to my will – unthinking trust and obedience. Look – I’ll take a chance on you, but there’s only two methods of getting you into form before the race.”

Mr. Sullivan clears his throat, and a look of relish enters his eyes. “First – we can get that chip off your shoulder. You’re too proud and full of lady-like pretension. I need a steed who is completely shameless, who can flash her bum and tits at the race course and not get distracted with embarrassment. Who’ll run like the wind without wondering about the lewd thoughts of the guests. I can forcefully strip you of your pride and dignity, and turn it into winning potential!”

If you would like to go ahead with this training regimen, Turn to page 144.
If not, read on.

“The second way is simpler. I can lash you into obedience! Even the most stubborn and proud girl is motivated by sufficient use of the whip. It will be painful, and the race itself will be hell as I whip over your livid, red welts – but I’ll have your total obedience, and you’ll do anything to escape the lash!”

If you would prefer this training regimen, Turn to page 145.

Or perhaps you feel that the race isn’t worth all this degradation? In which case you can silently decline Mr. Sullivan’s offer. Turn to page 146.

Page 144

Solemnly, and with a craving to win deep in your heart, you agree to Mr. Sullivan’s offer to strip you of your pride. He laughs joyfully. “Excellent – then let’s get started!”

Over the next few days Mr. Sullivan treats you little better than a dog, rather than a pony. You are fed and watered from a bowl, which you must beg for in public so you can get used to jeers and scorn from the crowd. You are made to perform lewd and totally revealing poses to a select group of Mr. Sullivan’s most depraved friends, who yawp and throw crude comments. You are offered as a whore to whomever takes Mr. Sullivan’s fancy, for which you are paid a single penny each time, inserted into the crack of your anus.

This debilitating loss of self respect is augmented with fast and furious training. Soon you have lost almost all concept of self worth and motivation, existing only to blindly follow Mr. Sullivan’s commands. You become faster, stronger, and even begin to dream of pony cart racing in your head at night.

You have lost almost all sense of propriety and respect. You must reduce your Dignity score to 1 – but for every point you have lost you can reassign it to another attribute (Ambition, Submission and Willpower) as you are crafted into the perfect racing pony!

Turn to page 147.

Page 145

So begins two weeks of pure misery. Hitched up to your pony cart for twelve hours a day, Mr. Sullivan rides you furiously. He sets impossible goals which you cannot hope to achieve, and punishes you fearlessly for missing them. You are constantly whipped when ridden, the only variation being the speed and fury of the strokes.

You are whipped first thing in the morning as warning of the day’s impending agonies and the last thing the evening so you spend the night haunted by what lies in store the next day.

None the less, your terror of the whip excites you to further efforts, and soon your body is hardening and your will strengthening – if only because you are terrified of what will happen to your bottom if you lose!

Raise your Bum Status to Blazing (or Fiery if you have the weakness Big Girl’s Blouse). For every step you had to raise you Bum Status by to reach this level you may add one point to your Ambition, Submission or Willpower. (If your Bum Status was already at maximum, you get nothing.)

Turn to page 147.

Page 146

Mr. Sullivan looks mildly put out, but nods. “Well – probably best for both of us in the long run,” he concedes. “Still – I’ve enjoyed watching your naked body squirm under the lash, so I suppose my time wasn’t completely wasted.”

At that, Mr. Sullivan leaves you to find some more compliant pony to ride.

On the big day of the race itself you are ridden by another guest – who does not bother to give you his name. When the carts pull away in a great rush the best you can manage is a battle for last place with a sorry looking pony girl.

Your rider whips you lasciviously, but mostly for the pleasure of seeing the whip lick your body than any desire to win. Raise your Bum Status by 1 level. You manage to avoid coming last, but it is hardly the glory you had hoped for.

In the event the Master wins the race, Veronica winning by half-a-cart in a breathtaking final. She is so delighted she even forgets her promise to whip you, your lowly position in the race now beneath her notice.

For all that you have completed quite a feat. Pony girl training is exhausting and degrading, but you have survived it, and no one back at the manor can doubt your toughness!

Gain 1 Fate point.

Now Turn to page 216.

Page 147

The big day has finally arrived. You are literally chomping at the bit with excitement. Mr. Sullivan sits astride the lean racing cart behind you – his whip ready to motivate you onwards at the whistle start. But it is not just his cart that is impressive! You have been honed into the ultimate pony girl racer, desperate to win at any cost.

You shiver in anticipation as the Master’s cart is drawn level with your own, the dozen or more racing cart behind it pale into insignificance next to its stately grandeur. Your arch enemy from school, Veronica, strains against the reigns, desperate to prove her worth to the Master. You promise yourself to give her the race of a lifetime!

The whistle blows, and your cruel owner, Mr. Sullivan, cracks his whip across your exposed breasts. You whinny, and charge forwards.

If your Ambition is 7 or more, Turn to page 148.
If not, Turn to page 149.

Page 148

Your thirst for victory is unquenchable, and Mr. Sullivan roars with triumph as you surge forward at the head of the pack!

“That’s a girl! Onwards! Onwards!” he cries, lashing your churning buttocks.

Raise your Bum Status by 1 level.

Your lead gives you a steady advantage, and for the first two laps you cruise along, your confidence and the open road giving you all the encouragement you need. Your breasts bounce wildly as you thunder onwards, the cries and lashes of the struggling pony girls behind speeding you on. Soon the sweat is pouring down your body, droplets spraying from your limbs and bouncing breasts as you jog ever onwards.

Suddenly you catch something in the corner of your eye … Veronica! She and the Master are catching up, Veronica is already level with Mr. Sullivan, who vengefully lashes Veronica’s naked body as she passes.

You feel a sharp tug on your reigns. Mr. Sullivan is commanding you to let Veronica through!

If you have a Submission of 6 or more, Turn to page 150.
If not Turn to page 151.

Page 149

You bolt forwards, fast – but not fast enough. Veronica and the Master, who has trained his steed well, speed ahead of you. You groan in frustration as you see the Master pull at least three cart lengths ahead before levelling off, Veronica seeming unphased by the lashing whip or frantic pace.

Mr. Sullivan goads you on vigorously, determined that you lose no further ground, his whip never failing to snap across your pumping buttocks. Raise your Bum Status by 2 levels.

Your breasts bounce wildly as you thunder onwards, the cries and lashes of the struggling pony girls behind speeding you on. Soon the sweat is pouring down your body, droplets spraying from your limbs and bouncing breasts as you jog ever onwards.

Finally you see yourself closing the lead – Veronica is flagging, and you are beginning to catch up! Suddenly, however, you feel a tug on your reigns … Mr Sullivan is pulling you back, at the very moment you might be able to overtake!

If you have a Submission of 8 or more Turn to page 152.
Otherwise Turn to page 153.

Page 150

You unthinkingly obey your rider, weeks of training at the sharp end of the lash kick in. You slow your pace and let the Master pass, Veronica groaning as she tugs ahead, goaded by the Master’s black whip across her buttocks.

For a moment you are at a loss. Has Mr. Sullivan thrown the match? No – the canny old brute is sparing your energies at the halfway mark. He can see you have been over-exerting yourself and has pulled you back. You are grateful for the respite, and desperately hope you can overtake at the final stretch. Mr. Sullivan is cautious with the whip, lashing you only when you flag. Raise your Bum Status by 1 Level.

Drool begins to pour from your opened mouth as you hit the seventh lap. Your legs are aching and on fire, your heavy, thudding breasts feel like weights attached to your chest. You feel shattered with only three laps to go!

Nonetheless, Mr. Sullivan has ridden you well, and you feel sure you have the reserves to make it on the final stretch!

If your Willpower is 5 or more, Turn to page 154.
If not, Turn to page 155.

Page 151

Mr. Sullivan is an old fool – he wants to pull you back just when your winning! There is no way you are going to let Veronica past you! You plow on at maximum speed, Mr. Sullivan pulling desperately on the reigns and lashing your breasts to slow you down.

Eventually, when it is obvious you are not going to accede to his will, he switches the lash to your bottom, painting it with welts to keep your speed up. Raise your Bum Status by 2 levels.

But, oh! How hard are those three laps! You realise now why Mr. Sullivan was attempting to hold you back, for your reserves are almost totally spent! Out of the corner of your eye you can see Veronica catching up fast. You know that if she overtakes you will be unable to regain the lead!

If you have a Willpower of 8 or more, Turn to page 156.
If not, Turn to page 157.

Page 152

You are far too well trained to offer even the slightest resistance, and you watch with gloom as Veronica pulls gleefully away from you. Mr. Sullivan is wise – it was too early for such an inexperienced pony to take the lead. He keeps you behind the Master, carefully lashing you to build up speed, or tugging on your reigns when you risk over-exerting yourself. Raise your Bum Status by 1 level.

Finally you see your chance. Veronica cannot maintain the frantic pace and slows slightly, despite the Master’s lashing whip on her buttocks. With a tremendous crack of his own whip on your reddened behind Mr. Sullivan cries out: “Now, girl! Give it everything you’ve got!”

Head down, you haul forwards…

Is your Willpower 6 or more? If so Turn to page 158.
If not, Turn to page 159.

Page 153

You feel this is your last chance. Lowering your head you charge forwards, despite Mr. Sullivan’s frantic tugging on your reigns and strokes to your naked, bouncing breasts. Almost like a gentleman, the Master lets you pass, tugging on Veronica’s reigns to allow you to shoot forwards.

You dash onwards and onwards, drool begins to pour from your opened mouth as you hit the fifth lap. Your legs are aching and on fire, your heavy, thudding breasts feel like weights attached to your chest. You feel shattered, but there is just as much ahead as there is behind!

You rue your hot headedness as your limbs slow, and Veronica passes you with ease. The sight of your nemesis passing you lends you some energy, but it is barely enough. The Master leads by half a lap on the final circuit, with you struggling for second place with the other contenders.

With a great roar the assembled guests go wild as the Master crosses the finishing line. Your school rival has beaten you again – and although you have won second place, the defeat tastes like ashes in your panting mouth…

Turn to page 160.

Page 154

Veronica can only look on in dismay as you rocket forwards, straight past her and the Master. The finishing line is ahead, and you lead by a full cart length. Mr. Sullivan woops with joy, lashing you freely, his cruel whip cutting deeply into your buttocks, the fat old man crowing at his approaching victory. Raise your Bum Status by 1 level.

Suddenly you catch yourself … are you doing the right thing? Behind you, your beloved Master is about to be embarrassed in defeat. And who will claim the crown of victory? The loathsome Mr. Sullivan, who has used you and his pony girls more cruelly than the Master and his mistresses ever would. Just how important is victory in such circumstances?

Even at this late stage you could throw the race … if you wish to do so Turn to page 181.
If not, read on.

You realise that the Master never ordered you to throw the race, and besides, your current master is Mr. Sullivan, without whom you could not even consider victory.

Casting silly thoughts of match rigging away, you heave confidently forward, rattling over the finish line to the roar of the crowd. “That’s my filly!” roars Mr. Sullivan in pure joy.

Veronica comes staggering, white faced, over the line just after you. Her fear of the defeat is etched into her face as the Master pulls her over.

You are almost feint with exhaustion from the long race, and are untethered and watered by attentive stable boys. You watch as the Master dismounts, refusing to acknowledge his shamed and defeated pony, to shake the hand of Mr. Sullivan, who boasts his achievements proudly.

“It’s all about control!” he crows. “Those girls in your mansion are too free-spirited. Some hard labour would bring them down a peg or two!”

“Well, quite,” concedes the Master, generously, before approaching you.

Turn to page 171.

Page 155

You surge forwards, neck and neck with your schoolgirl rival. She refuses to look at you, striding ever onwards. Mr. Sullivan woops with joy, lashing you freely, his cruel whip cutting deeply into your buttocks, the fat old man crowing at his approaching victory. Raise your Bum Status by 1 level. The finishing line is just a few yards away – if you could just…

Suddenly there is a whip-crack sound! To your amazement, you catch out of the corner of your eye the Master’s whip descending upon Veronica’s exposed bottom hole – she jumps forwards, carrying the cart with her, pushing her inches over the line ahead of you.

Veronica crashes to the gravely earth, causing the cart to skid, and her nearly nude body to scrape across the ground.

A victor is declared … it is the Master. Veronica has beaten you, but it has cost her both pain and dignity. Nonetheless, from the look on her face, the sweetness of the victory is its own salve.

Turn to page 160.

Page 156

You are angry at yourself for letting your pride get in the way of winning the race – but now you’re in this situation you jolly well better find a way out of it. Your only hope is to torment Veronica into a mistake…

You slow down slightly, giving yourself some much needed respite and a chance for Veronica to overtake. Mr. Sullivan is furious with you, lashing you freely, desperate to maintain the lead. Raise your Bum Status by 2 levels.

Just as Vernoica catches up, you swerve and begin to speed away again, even though your legs feel like lead and your breath blasts out in painful gasps. Veronica stumbles slightly, veering away from the wheels of your cart. The manoeuvre buys you more time.

You repeat your trick several times, trying to make Veronica doubt and exhaust herself. By the final lap, Veronica is lagging, and though you can barely find the strength to put one leg in front of the other, you heave onwards.

The finishing line is ahead, and you lead by a full cart length. Mr. Sullivan woops with joy, lashing you freely, his cruel whip cutting deeply into your buttocks, the fat old man crowing at his approaching victory. Raise your Bum Status by 1 level.

You can think of nothing but crossing that finishing line, and when you do, to the roar and cheers of the crowd, you collapse in a heap on the ground, utterly spent.

Veronica comes staggering, white faced, over the line just after you. Her fear of the defeat is etched into her face as the Master pulls her over.

“It’s all about control!” he crows. “Those girls in your mansion are too free-spirited. Some hard labour would bring them down a peg or two!”

“Well, quite,” concedes the Master generously before approaching you.

Turn to page 171.

Page 157

You whinny in despair – you just can’t maintain this frantic pace. You watch in agony as Veronica cruises past you. Although she is too short of breath to laugh, you can almost hear her mocking voice ringing in your ears as she dashes ahead.

Mr. Sullivan tries in vain to give you your second wind, lashing you brutally as you stagger onwards. Raise your Bum Status by 3 levels. It is only your training that keeps you going, but you finish the race a quarter of a length behind Veronica, cheers for the master ringing in your ears. Your school rival has beaten you again – and although you have won second place, the defeat tastes like ashes in your panting mouth…

Turn to page 160.

Page 158

The Master is only a cart length ahead – but the distance might as well be a mile. With Mr. Sullivan’s whip at your back you lunge forwards throwing everything you’ve got into a shot at victory.

Veronica glowers at you as you draw level, attempting to ram you off the track. Behind you, Mr. Sullivan and the Master engage in a whip duel, each lashing at the other’s reign holding hand in an attempt to dislodge their opponent. Without fear you endure the hideous jolt as your carts clash, the shockwave juddering through your body.

Veronica misses her step and stumbles. It is enough. Head down you surge ahead, and the finishing line sweeps beneath your feet just a few inches before Veronica. The crowd go wild, and victory is declared for Mr. Sullivan.

Veronica looks mortified at her failure and cringes as the Master dismounts his carriage. You are breathless with exhaustion, but flushed with victory – you are amazed you managed to pull that one off after such a shaky start!

The Master shakes Mr. Sullivan’s hand. “Well done, sir.”

“It’s all about control!” Mr Sullivan brags. “Those girls in your mansion are too free-spirited. Some hard labour would bring them down a peg or two!”

“Well, quite,” concedes the Master generously before approaching you.

Turn to page 171.

Page 159

You do not fall, but the nudge is enough to make you stumble … seconds later Veronica crosses the finishing line mere inches ahead of you. Your school rival has beaten you again – and although you have won second place, the defeat tastes like ashes in your panting mouth…

Turn to page 160.

Page 160

You come staggering to a halt, cheers for the Master and Veronica ringing in your ears. “You useless little nag!” snaps Mr. Sullivan, roundly lashing your defenceless breasts one last time with his whip. “Victory was in our grasp – if it weren’t for your pride and stubbornness!”

Mr. Sullivan dismounts, congratulating the Master curtly as he does so. The Master, benevolent in victory, strokes Veronica’s sopping, sweat drenched hair, congratulating her.

Soon she is released from her bonds, while you and the other pony girls remain in bondage, shivering with exhaustion from the long race. The Master asks Veronica what she desires as a reward.

“Please, sir,” she says sweetly to the Master. “If you remember, I asked for your permission to soundly thrash the pony who came in second place. That’s Mr. Sullivan’s filly. I’d enjoy it awfully!”

“You have it,” nods the Master. “You may whip the losing pony at a time and place of your choosing, and with my blessing.”

“Thank you, Master!” she gushes.

Your heart sinks as you consider what cold punishment awaits you at the hands of your worst enemy. Veronica strides towards you, resplendent in her black harness, and looks upon you with contempt.

“You have been, and always will be, a loser, slut,” she hisses in your face. “But I’m not without heart. Drop to your knees before me, now, in front of the Master and the whole crowd, and I’ll go easy on you when you attend me for your punishment.”

If you have the Weakness ‘Schoolgirl Rivalry’, Turn to page 161.

If not, you must choose. Will you drop to your knees before the cruel Veronica, and lower your head submissively? Turn to page 161.
Or refuse to budge, returning her sneering gaze with a steely look? Turn to page 162.

Page 161

There is no hope for you. Veronica always wins in the end, just like she did at school, and you must accept her status as your superior. You drop to your knees, the whole crowd seeming to observe your silent but powerful submission.

“This is how it will always be between us, bitch,” she smirks. “Don’t worry – when I ride to the top of this place as a senior mistress, I won’t forget you. Having an old school chum around, naked and on her knees, will cheer me up no end.”

Few in the house will now seriously consider you a real contender for Mistress – lose 3 Ambition points, but gain 1 Submission point for your public grovelling.

Now Turn to page 163.

Page 162

With the bit in your mouth you cannot speak – which is fortunate, since the tirade of foul language you would spew out at Veronica could only increase your punishment. None the less, you have infuriated Veronica with your refusal to bow down to her.

“You’ll regret your defiance, bitch!” she hisses. “I’ll have you begging for mercy by the end!”

At that she spins on her heal and leaves. Gain 1 Dignity point for refusing to submit to the cruel Veronica.

Turn to page 163.

Page 163

You and the other defeated pony girls are led back to the stables, exhausted and glum, but at the last minute Mr. Sullivan reappears and takes your reigns from the stable boy.

“But sir,” objects the stable boy, “the Mistresses from the house will be along to collect this one in a few…”

“I’m quite aware – just want to wish the filly farewell in my own special way!” grins Mr. Sullivan, leading you off towards the hunting cottage.

Your hands are still bound behind you as you enter the comfortable cottage, the hot fire warming your freezing, aching breasts, still covered in Mr. Sullivan’s whip marks. He removes your bit and reigns, and you champ your mouth together, trying to remove the ache in your jaw.

“The boy is right,” concedes Mr Sullivan. “It won’t be long until the mistresses come … but dash it all! Despite the fact you lost I’d like to keep you around. Just think about it! You could go professional, pulling my cart every year. I’d train you throughout the year – the sight of you, long limbed, bare breasts bouncing as you hauled my cart across the track come rain or shine, would become a legend in the house. And I’d steer you a steady course, whipping the girlish pride from you, until you’re all pony girl! What do you say, girl? Will you renounce the Master and take me as your lord for all time?”

The portly Mr. Sullivan flexes his riding crop, as if in slight threat, to hurry you along…

Do you? Accept his offer? Turn to page 164.
Decline? Turn to page 165.

Page 164

Through fair means or foul, you have submitted to Mr. Sullivan’s desires and become his pony girl for all time. Through tear stained eyes you denounce the Master, severing him forever from your heart, and agree to become the permanent plaything of the cruel, lazy Mr. Sullivan.

In the Manor no one ever gets old and no one ever dies. You are groaning and whinnying across the open road, the setting sun before you, Mr. Sullivan’s lash upon your whip-stroked backside. Sweat streams down your legs, and drool splashes from your bit-gagged mouth to run in rivulets down your bouncing breasts. Mr. Sullivan is taking you out on a twenty mile ride, whilst he reclines in his padded seat, sipping brandy from his flask, his whip thrashing you should your pace ever slow, or your knees not rise high enough above your waist.

In the Manor no one ever gets old and no one ever dies. You shall haul the laughing, derisive Mr. Sullivan, until the end of time itself.

Your adventure ends here…

Page 165

“Betray the Master?” you cry. “Never!”

Mr. Sullivan nods. “I expected that response. You leave me little choice but to thrash obedience into that rebellious arse of yours. On top of those whip strokes, I dare say you’ll find the experience excruciating. Will you bend over the table willingly, or shall I have my men throw you over like the spoilt brat you are?”

Do you have the codeword DECENT? If so Turn to page 166.
if not, read on.

You’ll not grant Mr. Sullivan the pleasure of whipping you in front of an audience. Sullenly, but with as much careful grace as you can, you bend over the table, hoping to be collected by the manor staff before your bottom suffers too much.

Do you have the codeword THROWN? If so, Turn to page 167.

Otherwise, Turn to page 168.

Page 166

You realise that the situation is dire: Mr. Sullivan intends to permanently enslave you on his pony farm and take you away from the Master forever! You’ll have to attack his own sense of twisted honour in order to escape.

“And yet,” you interrupt, “when it was your bottom due a thrashing, I let you off to show good sportsmanship. But when I lose, you intend to thrash me until I break? The other guests consider you a man of honour – or is it that you can only receive mercy rather than give it?”

Mr. Sullivan looks shocked. “I … I only meant that, as a going away present, you might enjoy a few whacks on your…”

“No thank you,” you say clearly. “I’m calling in the debt you owe me. You don’t thrash me, and we’ll call it quits.”

Mr. Sullivan frowns, but relents. Without his sportsman’s honour his reputation would collapse. “Should have taken those twelve ticklers I was due … I’ll not let a house slave trick me again! But you … you’re off the hook girl. You’ll make a fine mistress – as devious as any of them, I’ll be bound.”

Mr. Sullivan unties you, and treats you to a glass of brandy. Raise any of your Attributes by 1 point. You talk politely about racing and the calibre of the other pony girls until no less a figure than Mistress Jessica comes to collect you. You mutter a curt farewell to your cruel owner and leave for the manor.

Turn to page 179.

Page 167

Mr. Sullivan taps the riding crop menacingly against your whipped arse cheeks. “Sure you don’t want to change you mind? Hauling a pony cart has got to be better than this…”

“Never!” you spit defiantly.

Mr. Sullivan smiles and raises his crop high.

“Excuse me, Mr. Sullivan,” says a familiar female voice. Mistress Jessica! “I’ve come to collect the Master’s slave. Undamaged, if you please.”

Mr. Sullivan turns in shock. He wasn’t expecting to be interrupted so quickly. “I was … just giving this filly what for! You know … for losing the race.”

“Alas, the Master has demanded she be returned to the manor straight away – otherwise I should feel delighted to let you continue,” explains Mistress Jessica with an icy smile.

“I see – fair enough,” grunts Mr. Sullivan. “Off you go, filly – try to remember all I taught you, you never know when you might be hitched up again!”

You rise from the table, thank Mr. Sullivan for good measure, and then leave your cruel owners estate forever.

“You’re a clever one, girl,” admits Mistress Jessica, as she escorts you through the cold night air. “Training up to win a race you then throw for the Master’s pleasure. You’ll go far, and you deserve to. But know this – I’m watching you. You will not dislodge me from the Master’s affections. I’ll see you a trussed up cockslave first.”

With this chilling warning, you are escorted back to the manor.

The knowledge that the Master appreciated your sacrifice fills you with vigour. Add 1 to three attributes of your choice.

Now Turn to page 179.

Page 168

Mr. Sullivan taps the riding crop menacingly against your whipped arse cheeks. “Sure you don’t want to change you mind? Hauling a pony cart has got to be better than this…”

“Never!” you spit defiantly.

Mr. Sullivan smiles and raises his crop high.

Vap!

“Uuh!” you cry, jolting, at the first powerful stroke to your centre buttocks. Mr. Sullivan isn’t going to let you off easy…

Vap! Vap! Vap!

Your buttocks dance under his sustained bombardment, each stroke plunging into your bum flesh before bouncing off, leaving angry red track marks across your behind.

Mr. Sullivan has thrashed you more than two dozen strokes, and you cry and whimper at each one through slackening lips. Raise your Bum Status by 2 levels.

If you have an Ambition or Willpower score of 6 or more, Turn to page 169.
If not, read on.

The strokes keep coming, seemingly without end. You choke and cry, your blazing buttocks twitching madly. All of this, when your reserves have already been drained by the long race and fierce whipping. Finally you have had enough – not even the Master is worth all this!

“Oh, please, sir! No more!” you cry.

Turn to page 164.

Page 169

The whipping continues, seemingly without end. Several times Mr. Sullivan stops, takes a swig of brandy for strength, and then recommences his lashing of your buttocks, so prettily framed by your bound hands above them, which twitch and clench at each stroke.

Vap! Vap! Vap!

Raise you Bum Status by 4 levels. You begin to realise that Mr. Sullivan is just going to keep thrashing you until you break, and your stomach trembles at the thought.

If you have an Ambition or Willpower score of 7 or more, Turn to page 170.
If not, read on.

“Oh, please, sir! No more!” you cry.

Turn to page 164.

Page 170

You’re not sure what keeps you going. You are a broken, sobbing wretch over the table, as Mr. Sullivan clocks up over a hundred strokes of his crop onto your flaming behind. Still, an inner stubbornness will not let you submit to his will over the Master’s.

Finally, his time runs out.

“Excuse me, Mr. Sullivan,” says a familiar female voice. Mistress Jessica! “I’ve come to collect the Master’s slave. Undamaged, if you please.”

Mr. Sullivan turns in shock. He wasn’t expecting to be interrupted so quickly. “I was … just giving this filly what for! You know … for losing the race.”

“Alas, the Master has demanded she be returned to the manor straight away – otherwise I should feel delighted to let you continue,” explains Mistress Jessica with an icy smile.

“I see – fair enough,” grunts Mr. Sullivan. “Off you go, filly – try to remember all I taught you, you never know when you might be hitched up again!”

You rise from the table, thank Mr. Sullivan for good measure, and then leave your cruel owners estate forever.

Turn to page 179.

Page 171

“Congratulations,” the Master nods to you, and you feel as if you might explode with pride at his casual compliment. Add 2 to your Dignity. “Well raced. I trained Victoria until she was ragged, but you seem to have the winning spirit.”

He looks briefly at Mr. Sullivan, and then bends to whisper in your ear. “It can’t have been easy with all that extra weight!”

You laugh through your bit, and feel overjoyed that the Master is sharing a private joke with you. Add 1 to your Willpower.

“It is customary to grant a wish to the victorious Pony Girl…” the Master lowers the bit from your mouth. “Name it – as long as it is not to avaricious, it shall be yours.”

What will you ask for?

To give Veronica the sound thrashing she promised you? Turn to page 172.
Ask if you could perform a victory lap, ridden by the Master? Turn to page 175.
Ask if you could pleasure the Master? Turn to page 176.
Demur, and say that you care only for the Master’s wishes? Turn to page 177.

Page 172

“Certainly!” booms the Master. “It is only natural justice, since you would have suffered a terrible degradation at her hands. With your permission I should like to observe Veronica’s punishment. I understand the two of you are old rivals, and in my experience that makes for a particularly succulent spectacle.”

You readily agree, Veronica visibly wilting at the thought of being so humiliated before her beloved Master.

A few hours later you attend the Master at the after race party in a grand marquee. You have been washed and made up, your hands released, although you are still in your harness as a visual treat for the guests. Mr. Sullivan is proudly hogging the glory of the race, but is good enough to congratulate you briefly in his acceptance speech.

Gain 2 Dignity points as you lap up you celebrity status.

After a few more minutes, the Master claps his hands, and to the delight of the guests (and, it must be said, yourself) Veronica is wheeled into the marquee. She has been bent, naked but for her pony harness, over a wooden gym block, her arms and legs splayed open widely, locked in place with manacles. Her bottom, anus and sex are all completely visible to the leering audience, and she shrivels with shame – her dreams of domination evaporating before her as the mistresses laugh and jeer.

Mr. Sullivan presents his riding crop to you proudly. “Go on, filly! Give that broken old nag what-for!”

All eyes are upon you and Veronica – you had no idea that your schoolgirl score was going to be settled so publicly. But here she is, naked and defenceless, the girl who caused you such misery at school about to get her comeuppance. She whimpers as you measure the crop against her backside.

Will you? Spontaneously forgive Veronica in public, and declare your feud over? Turn to page 173.
Give Veronica the thrashing she deserves? Turn to page 174.

Page 173

You lower your crop. “All I ever wanted was to be your friend, Vee,” you announce clearly. “Our feud is over. I forgive you.”

There is an icy silence. Have you done something wrong?

Eventually, the Master speaks. “You have insulted me, girl,” he growls. “I granted your wish to beat your opponent, and now throw the gift back in my face? Before my guests?”

You tremble in terror. You have insulted the Master!

You drop to your knees and crawl to his feet. “Please! Master, forgive me!”

“You shall find me unforgiving in this matter,” he says coldly. “You shall report to me for punishment at a time of my choosing. Until then you must live in fear of your shaming.”

You are already shamed enough! Lose 3 Fame points for publicly humiliating the Master, and gain the Codeword LILLY.

Veronica is freed from her bonds, smiling wickedly at you. Your mercy towards her has gained you nothing.

Now Turn to page 178.

Page 174

A great cheer goes up as you slice the riding crop into Veronica’s already whip-wealed bottom cheeks. Before your arrival at the party the Master had already informed the guests about your history of abuse from Veronica (don’t ask how he knows – the Master knows all!), and the crowd rejoice at the cruel slave girl getting a taste of her own medicine.

Vap! Vap! Vap! You paint Veronica’s bum with numerous red lines of fire, and the poor girl jolts at each stroke, straining at her bonds under your bombardment.

If you have an Ambition score of 7 or more, you coldly award Veronica extra’s for taking her beating like a spoilt school-girl. The guests consider this great fun, and soon Veronica is trying to keep quiet, her gasps and groans leaking through clenched lips as you beat her buttocks. You can gain 1 Willpower point as your confidence in whipping grows.

You beat Veronica for several minutes, until she is sobbing, and you sense the crowd is beginning to feel she has been punished enough. Reluctantly you lower your crop, jeering at her weakness to the delight of the vengeful crowd. You return the riding crop to Mr. Sullivan with a little curtsey, and he feels along the warm stick appreciatively.

“Glad it was her rather than me,” he grunts, before taking your nearly naked form in with a leer. “You make a fine pony, perhaps you’d like to take the job on permanently? Of course, you’d have to renounce the Master’s service…”

The very idea seems horrific! Or does it? If you are tempted by this idea Turn to page 164.
Otherwise, read on.

“No thank you, sir,” you say with restraint. You would have used harsher words, but there seems little point in making an enemy out of Mr. Sullivan needlessly.

You have finally bested Veronica and gained revenge for your years of suffering. If you have the Weakness ‘Schoolgirl Rivalry’ cross it off now.

Now Turn to page 178.

Page 175

Mr. Sullivan’s face falls, but the Master looks pleased. “That I will willingly grant,” he smiles beatifically. To the cheering of the crowd the master collects his whip and clambers into the back of your racing cart as a stable boy reattaches your bit. Controlling you with the reigns, the Master has you canter to the start line, before cracking his whip across your back to set you bolting forwards.

The crowd go wild as you haul the Master around the track at full speed, fighting the fatigue of the long race to build up a head of steam. The Master urges you on with a never ending series of strokes across your backside and breasts, which sting like fire. He is a crafty whipper, and waits until your tits are bouncing high before lashing his whip to curl under them, making you whinny in agonising abandonment.

Raise your Bum Status by 3 levels.

With a furnace burning in your bottom from the Master’s pitiless whip you race along at speeds you scarcely thought possible, and the crowd whoop in delight at your blazing speed, your pumping legs, and bouncing, whip stroked breasts.

You cross the finishing line in record time, utterly spent, your scarlet whipped body collapsing into the dust, nearly tipping the laughing Master from his seat.

You and the Master are cheered loudly, a second victory ringing in your ears.

Raise your Willpower and Submission by 1, and gain 1 Fame Point.

Now turn to 178

Page 176

The Master smiles. “Well, there is no time like the present, is there?”

The Master makes no move, clearly you will have to perform the whole task yourself. You drop to your knees, the cart behind you tipping as you do so. With your hands still secured you have only your mouth, and pull down the zip on the Master’s trousers with your teeth.

The sight of so many naked pony girls, groaning, bouncing and sweating beneath the lash, has clearly excited him, and you have to pull hard to extract his massive erection through the hole you have created.

With this done you slavishly engulf his cock in your mouth, sliding your head back and forth with such vigour that the cart behind you nods up and down to your shifting sucks.

As he nears his excitement, the Master grabs your head and throat fucks you vigorously, unloading the full contents of his balls directly into your throat. You swallow greedily, the Essence flowing through you in delight at absorbing your master’s cream.

Raise all your attributes by 1 point.

Having finished with you, the Master unceremoniously extracts himself from your mouth with a loud pop, another slave girl quickly dropping to her knees to lick up the remaining cream before tidying the Master away back into his trousers. The Master leaves you to the aftershocks of your orgasm, strolling leisurely into the after-race marquee.

Turn to page 178.

Page 177

The Master raises his eyes, a trace of disappointment entering them. “Noble indeed,” he says. “But hardly the fierce spirit I expected.”

You are stung by the Master’s backhanded comment. Reduce your Willpower by 2 points.

Now turn to 178.

Page 178

You have won the pony race and are showered with glory. You are surrounded by fans and well-wishers throughout the evening at the after-race party. You sense that Mr. Sullivan is keen to get you alone – perhaps he has developed an attachment to his victorious pony-girl? He never gets the chance, however. As the party wraps up, Mistress Jessica arrives to lead you back to the house. You shall have a short rest period before your next slave-girl duties…

You gain 6 Fame points for your achievement, and can raise your Willpower by 1 – the life of a pony girl is the most arduous in the house. You have not only endured it, but prospered!

Turn to page 216.

Page 179

Although you did not win the pony race, second place does count for something. Pony girl training is arduous, and the other house staff shall look at you with new found respect at your completion of it.

Gain 3 Fame Points.

Now Turn to page 216.

Page 180

The steward escorts you to a large dressing room, filled with rails containing every sort of costume available, from medieval garb to modern evening gowns. Within stands the impressive, and beautiful, form of Mistress Jessica – the Master’s favourite. She is dressed regally in blue, her blonde mane slicked back elegantly to highlight her noble features. She carries off an aura of unquestionable authority, and you sense the steward tense as he present you.

“The new kitchen slave, as you requested, Madame,” he says with a stiff bow.

You cannot help but curtsey as she flicks her eyes to you. You know from the other kitchen slaves that her opinion of you will matter.

She looks upon your bedraggled form carefully, attempting to see the woman beneath the filth.

If your Dignity is 2 or less, Turn to page 182.
If your Dignity is 3, 4 or 5, Turn to page 183.
If your Dignity is 6 or higher, Turn to page 184.

Page 181

You slow, feigning a limp. Mr. Sullivan is outraged and lashes you as if you had the devil upon your back. “Move it, you lazy nag! Move!” Raise your Bum Status by 1 level.

Smiling, Veronica sails past you and over the finishing line. The crowd go wild, and Mr. Sullivan howls as if in agony, his victory snatched away at the last minute.

You smile to yourself – perhaps no one will ever know what you did today. But in the final lap it was you who was the winner, and the cruel Mr. Sullivan the loser.

Turn to page 160.

Page 182

“You bear yourself like a whore,” she says coldly, after studying you for a few moments. “Therefore you shall be dressed as a whore.”

Mistress Jessica clicks her fingers, and from behind the racks come skittish, long fingered dressing maids, long threads of cotton snagged on their simple clothes and in their hair from their ceaseless labours to make gowns for the guests.

Without so much as a by-your-leave they strip you naked of your kitchen rags, and replace them with cheep and unsophisticated clothes, two sizes to small, so that your breasts and bottom bulge out of them obscenely. A pair of ripped stockings and cheap trainers complete the look, along with thick makeup which unnecessarily covers your face, so that now you look nothing less than a tart.

Lower your Ambition score by 1 point – to be dressed in such a way is exquisitely shameful, and no one is likely to take your seriously.

Finally, Mistress Jessica snaps a thin leather collar around your throat, which has a length of leash attached. Signified as her slave, you are compelled to walk behind her as she tugs on your leash. Your appointment with the Master awaits!

Turn to page 185.

Page 183

“You bear yourself like a slave,” she judges evenly, after studying you for a few moments. “Therefore you shall be dressed as a slave.”

Without so much as a by-your-leave they strip you naked of your kitchen rags. You are taken to an adjoining bathing chamber, where they silently – almost reverently – bathe and scrub you. Soon the filth of the kitchen is washed away, and you are clean limbed for the first time in a long while.

Scented perfumes are splashed across your naked body, and careful, elegant makeup applied to highlight your eyes and cheeks. This done, they put on your costume – which takes little time, composing as it does of only a tiny black leather thong and matching black high healed shoes. Your hands are secured behind your back with worn leather cuffs, which jut your naked breasts forwards prominently.

Turn to page 185.

Page 184

“You bear yourself like a lady,” she says with some surprise, after studying you for a few moments. “Therefore you shall be dressed as a lady.”

Scented perfumes are splashed across your naked body, and careful, elegant makeup applied to highlight your eyes and cheeks. This done, they present your costume, a beautiful, backless red dress that seems to glitter as if unreal in the dim light, with matching red heals that fit you perfectly.

You can raise your Ambition by 1 point – you shall cut a stunning figure before the guests!

Turn to page 185.

Page 185

Mistress Jessica leads you into a great hall, the likes of which you have never seen before. Pictures, modern and ancient, classical and pornographic, line a decadent chamber whose size is hard to grasp. Numerous galleries span the three levelled hall, containing many guests dressed as ladies, rakes, movie stars, musicians or even intellectuals. They are waited upon by a veritable horde of slave girls, who serve drinks, perform pleasurable acts, act as furniture, or just crouch by their owners as prized objects.

The slap of the lash and the musical laugher of the guests fills the hall, along with music from every era imaginable – classical, jazz, disco, all enmesh in a dream-like haze. The Mistresses stalk the hall, whipping slaves that step out of line or demur in the slightest from their assigned tasks – some slaves are set in stocks to be publicly punished and humiliated, whilst others are made to bend over to be thrashed where they stand, the guests carefully rating the skill of the mistress and her chosen implement.

At the very back of the hall, waited on by half a dozen beautiful, barely clad women, is the Master. He sits upon an oaken throne, dressed in black, brooding upon imponderable matters, seemingly indifferent to the parade of pleasure going on around him. You find it hard to take your eyes off him – he possesses a sinister magnificence that mesmerises you, and you long for the moment when you might be introduced.

Mistress Jessica escorts you a small way in, and you step nervously behind her, the wild party intimidating you. As you pass, your eyes lock upon a familiar face. It is a face you hoped dearly never to see again.

Kneeling obediently next to a severe, leather-clad mistress, is Veronica – your old rival at boarding school. Veronica would always attempt to get you into trouble, bully you, and strip you of your friends apparently for no reason other than her own perverted pleasure.

If you have the weakness Schoolgirl Rivalry, Turn to page 186.
If not, read on.

Once Veronica told on you for smoking, even though you were just hanging out with your mates and not actually smoking at all. It cost you your position of prefect, and much of your parent’s respect. You long for revenge … but all of that was in the past. Perhaps she has changed? You certainly hope so…

“Time for you to earn you keep, before you meet the Master,” drawls Mistress Jessica.

If you are dressed as a whore, Turn to page 187.
If you are dressed as a slave, Turn to page 196.
If you are dressed as a lady, Turn to page 198.

Page 186

You still remember that day in the Upper Sixth form … Veronica had been spreading lies about you. They had touched a nerve and made you weep openly in class.

That night she snuck into your room and told you that she would keep spreading lies about you … unless you were good. Desperate not to lose what little respect you had left in school you submitted…

For the rest of the year each night was the same. At midnight you would wait, naked bent over, touching toes – Veronica’s cane clutched between your trembling bottom cheeks – waiting for her to arrive to punish you. Sometimes she would be up to an hour late, and you would be shivering with cold and fear. If, when Veronica silently opened the door, you were not in this exact position, your punishment would be doubled.

The only indication of her presence in the room was when she removed the cane from your clammy cheeks, and whooshed it through the air menacingly, before tapping it against your spread buttocks, savouring the moment she would lash you.

Eight strokes … every night for a full school term. Your bum was never free of welts. Your cries would echo down the halls – the other girls knowing full well of your shame. You never had the courage to stand up to her. You’re sure you couldn’t now.

Your thoughts are interrupted. “Time for you to earn you keep, before you meet the Master,” drawls Mistress Jessica.

If you are dressed as a whore, Turn to page 187.
If you are dressed as a slave, Turn to page 196.
If you are dressed as a lady, Turn to page 198.

Page 187

Mistress Jessica escorts to about half-way up the hall, before stopping at a table, occupied by a number of lascivious looking men in nineteen-thirties trouser suits. They are already being pleasured by several beautiful slave girls, who crouch under the table to suck their master’s penises whilst the guests discuss opera and the arts.

“Gentlemen,” says Mistress Jessica, bowing slightly. “This whore is very cheep, and would be delighted to perform any deeds you should care to name, and for an insignificant price.”

“I say – just the sort of wheeze we were looking for, eh chaps?” pipes one, a weedy looking man whose striped trousers lay crumpled around his ankles to facilitate the eager slave girl sucking between his legs.

“Tell us your speciality and we’ll negotiate a price,” grunts another, his eyes taking in your cheap clothing.

What will you say? Oral sex? Turn to page 188.
Anal sex? Turn to page 189.
Conventional sex? Turn to page 190.
Or tell the odeious guests you have no intention of performing for them? Turn to page 191.

Page 188

“Sorry, my dear,” says the man in striped trousers, “but that market is flooded,” at which he grunts in pleasure filling the slave girl’s mouth with his semen.

Mistress Jessica tuts. “So! Not only are you a whore, but you are an incompetent whore as well! Perhaps the sight of your buttocks blistering under my strokes will help these other guests on their way to satisfaction?”

“Rather!” cry the guests in unison.

Your leash is tugged and you are compelled to bend over. With so many Mistresses in the room, you realise that any resistance would be pointless, and you resign yourself to your punishment.

One of the guests presents Mistress Jessica with a portable cane, concealed inside his umbrella, which Mistress Jessica uses to lash your bottom, naked thanks to your tiny skirt.

Vip! Vip! Vip!

You are lashed, wincing and squirming, until each guest has finished coming in their respecting slave girl’s mouth, which thankfully doesn’t take too long. Raise your Bum Status by 2 Levels.

“Come,” says Mistress Jessica, tugging your leash. “That’s about all the work we’ll get out of you, I think. Time to face your destiny with the Master.”

Turn to page 202.

Page 189

There is a gasp from the guests, as well as from Mistress Jessica. The mistress whispers into your ear. “In the manor, buggery is used only as a shaming punishment. Any girl who is buggered must wear a badge for a full month to demonstrate her shamed state. I suggest you change your mind…”

The guests seem shocked, but at least one of the guests looks intrigued at the prospect of formally shaming you.

Will you? Change you mind and say your speciality is conventional sex? Turn to page 190.
Or insist that your speciality is anal sex? Turn to page 192.

Page 190

“And what shall the price be?” asks Mistress Jessica. “A whore does not work for nothing, you know…”

“She could finish this glass of sherry!” roars one guest, pushing a sucking slave girl from his mouth with a pop. “I wouldn’t mind finishing inside this hussy – that’s for sure!”

“Done!” agrees Mistress Jessica, without consulting you. Perhaps you need a better pimp, you think ruefully.

Will you:

Bend over the table and allow the guest to use you for his pleasure? Turn to page 193.
Refuse to act the whore and deny the guests anything? Turn to page 191.

Page 191

Raise your Dignity by 1.

You firmly tell the guests, and Mistress Jessica, that you have no intention of letting these strangers use your body.

The guests laugh. “Not got this one trained yet, have you, Jessica?” laughs the man with stripped trousers, wincing slightly as he comes in his slave girl’s mouth.

Mistress Jessica surveys you haughtily. “Rebellion? In the sight of the Master? Indeed you are arrogant. You shall submit to a punishment caning – unless, of course, you are too good to receive one…?”

If you have the Trait – Lust for the Cane, Turn to page 194.

You can’t help but feel that Mistress Jessica is setting you up somehow. Your eyes are pulled to brooding figure on his throne. Already you have served the Master for many weeks now. Do you owe him your obedience?

Will you? Accept your punishment? Turn to page 194.
Or defy Mistress Jessica? Turn to page 195.

Page 192

“Very well – you depraved slut,” hisses Mistress Jessica, surveying you with contempt. “Who wishes to shame this whore?”

“I shall!” cries the guest in striped trousers in great haste. He plucks the slave girl pleasuring him away from his cock with a loud pop. “Alright girly, up onto the table, and stick your bum in the air – they’ll be plenty of people who’ll want to watch!”

Unable to go back on your word you do as commanded, clambering onto the table on all fours. You cross your arms and rest your cheek upon them, forcing your backside even higher. The guest clambers up behind you, eager to begin.

The guest’s cock, slimy with slave girl saliva, penetrates you in one smooth motion, filling your bottom hole and making you gasp in discomfort and surprise. Soon the guest is riding you furiously, impaling you with rapid thrusts from his hips. The man has little discipline and does not hold back – soon you feel his come shoot into your bottom accompanied by a wild cry from the guest.

Your fellow slaves assume that you must have done something particularly depraved to be awarded such a shaming. Lose 3 Ambition points.

As guest withdraws from your backside you see one of the house stewards approach, carrying an elaborate black rosette, which he pins to your chest.

“It is the Mark of Shame,” explains Mistress Jessica. “Whilst you wear it you will be treated with the contempt you deserve.”

Write down the Mark of Shame on your list of weaknesses. Whilst you have it you must treat your Ambition score as if it was 1 (don’t remove any points from the statistic, you can still build up your Ambition score, but until you lose the Mark of Shame your score counts as 1 in any test). You will be told when you can remove the Mark of Shame.

“Come,” says Mistress Jessica, pulling on your leash. “It is time to meet the Master…”

Turn to page 202.

Page 193

You provide a brief and unexciting service, bent over the table, sipping the glass of sherry that was your payment. The guest pushes into you with excitement – but he cannot hold himself back, and before a minute is up he has finished.

“Thanks, old thing,” says the guest breathlessly, pushing his cock back into the slave girls mouth to clean himself off.

The matter has barely raised an eyelid – all across the hall the manor staff are offering their services to the ladies and gentlemen of the Master’s court. Your actions have gone unnoticed.

“Come,” says Mistress Jessica, pulling on your leash. “It is time to meet the Master…”

Turn to page 202.

Page 194

“No, miss – no one is too good for the cane,” you say breathlessly, with a little glint in your eye.

Your leash is tugged and you are compelled to bend over. One of the guests presents Mistress Jessica with a portable cane, concealed inside his umbrella, which Mistress Jessica uses to lash your bottom, naked thanks to your tiny skirt.

Vip! Vip! Vip!

You are lashed, wincing and squirming, until each guest has finished coming in their respecting slave girl’s mouth, which thanks to your display doesn’t take too long. Raise your Bum Status by 2 Levels.

“Come,” says Mistress Jessica, tugging your leash. “That’s about all the work we’ll get out of you, I think. Time to face your destiny with the Master.”

Turn to page 202.

Page 195

Gain the codeword MODEST.

“Enough!” you cry. “Take me to the Master – I won’t play your stupid games anymore!”

Mistress Jessica glowers darkly at you, but refuses to make a scene.

“As you wish. Come,” says Mistress Jessica, pulling on your leash. “It is time to meet the Master…”

Turn to page 202.

Page 196

“The guests look thirsty!” declares Mistress Jessica with an evil smile. “Serve them a round of drinks.”

“But miss … my hands are tied behind my back!” you cry.

“Of course … but don’t worry – we have the tools for the job at hand.” Mistress Jessica snaps her fingers, and moments later a steward arrives with a serving tray, with an arch shaped indentation upon it and two small straps with crocodile clips at the front. The tray is levelled against your stomach, the arch allowing it to fit correctly. The steward then attaches a clip to each nipple, making your squeak in surprise.

The tray now rests against the top of your stomach, supported by your aching nipples. A number of glasses of wine are then placed upon the tray, adding to the weight being supported by your breasts.

“Go and serve – and remember to be polite,” chides Mistress Jessica with a smile. “That table there looks thirsty…”

Feeling acutely vulnerable you obey, stopping at a table occupied by a number of lascivious looking men in nineteen-thirties trouser suits. They are already being pleasured by several beautiful slave girls, who crouch under the table to suck their master’s penises whilst the guests discuss opera and the arts.

“Drink for you, sirs?” you whimper ashamedly.

“Spot on!” cries one of the guests. “All this talking is rather giving me a thirst!”

You shuffle closer, desperately trying not to spill the wine. This is not helped when one of the guests, admiring your unclad bottom, gives you a tremendous whack on the bum!

If you have the weakness ‘Clumsy’ Turn to page 197.

Otherwise you desperately attempt to steady yourself. If your Willpower is 3 or less, you cannot help but jolt as the guest strikes your bum. Turn to page 197.
Otherwise read on.

Fortunately it takes more than a casual swat to distract you these days, and you remain upright and level. The guest takes his glass of wine and dismisses you, the sight of a naked slave girl carrying a drinks tray without her hands apparently not enough to phase him.

You serve several other tables – sometimes ignored, sometimes openly fondled, until your drinks tray is quite empty. At this Mistress Jessica removes the tray from your stomach and nipples to your very great relief.

“Come,” says Mistress Jessica, tugging your leash. “That’s about all the work we’ll get out of you, I think. Time to face your destiny with the Master.”

Turn to page 202.

Page 197

The swat on the backside catches you by surprise and you stagger forwards … spilling the contents of the wine glasses all over the reclining guest and his sucking slave girl, who continues her labours without pause despite the sudden shower.

The guest is not so blazè, however.

“You clumsy oaf!” cries the guest in outrage. “I say, Jessica! The discipline amongst your staff is appalling!”

“Apologies, sir,” trills Mistress Jessica. “Naturally the inept slut shall be punished to your satisfaction.”

Your leash is tugged and you are compelled to bend over the table, the tray across your stomach folding up to squash your clamped breasts. One of the guests presents Mistress Jessica with a portable cane, concealed inside his umbrella, which Mistress Jessica uses to lash your naked bottom.

Vip! Vip! Vip!

At this Mistress Jessica bids you to rise and removes the tray from your stomach and nipples to your very great relief.

“Come,” says Mistress Jessica, tugging your leash. “That’s about all the work we’ll get out of you, I think. Time to face your destiny with the Master.”

Turn to page 202.

Page 198

“Go and amuse those guests with your pretty wit and winning smile,” says Mistress Jessica sarcastically. “Their sexual needs are already being catered to – go and stimulate their minds.”

Mistress Jessica escorts you about half-way up the hall, before stopping at a table, occupied by a number of lascivious looking men in nineteen-thirties trouser suits. They are already being pleasured by several beautiful slave girls, who crouch under the table to suck their master’s penises whilst the guests discuss opera and the arts.

“Gentleman,” she purrs. “This fine lady here is schooled in poetry and the classics. And will doubtless be able to delight you with a recitation, from memory.”

If you have the weakness ‘Schoolgirl Rivalry’ Turn to page 199.

If you have the trait ‘Blonde’ Turn to page 200.

Otherwise to page 201.

Page 199

Mistress Jessica has made a mistake. Perhaps she thought you uneducated and poorly schooled – but you had attended one of the premier girl’s boarding schools in the country where classic poetry was drilled into you.

Smiling, and with an eye towards Mistress Jessica, you recite Shelley’s little known ‘Feelings of a Republican on the Fall of Bonaparte’.

I hated thee, fallen tyrant! I did groan To think that a most unambitious slave, Like thou, shouldst dance and revel on the grave Of Liberty. Thou mightst have built thy throne Where it had stood even now: thou didst prefer A frail and bloody pomp which Time has swept In fragments towards Oblivion. Massacre, For this I prayed, would on thy sleep have crept, Treason and Slavery, Rapine, Fear, and Lust, And stifled thee, their minister. I know Too late, since thou and France are in the dust, That Virtue owns a more eternal foe Than Force or Fraud: old Custom, legal Crime, And bloody Faith the foulest birth of Time.

Throughout your recitation a large crowd of educated guests have gathered, mesmerized by your perfect and confident delivery. When you finish there is a sterling round of applause. Mistress Jessica quietly fumes to see such a surge in your popularity. Gain 1 Dignity and 2 Fame points.

In jealousy, Mistress Jessica cuts short your applause.

“Come,” says Mistress Jessica, tugging your leash. “That’s about all the work we’ll get out of you, I think. Time to face your destiny with the Master.”

Turn to page 202.

Page 200

You shake with nerves. Classical poetry? What do you know of that? You try your best.

Tiger Tiger. burning bright, In the forests of the night; What … umm … oh! immortal hand or eye. Err…

To your surprise one of the guest’s steps in. “Could frame thy fearful symmetry? Very good! What a clever girl! Who would have thought a pretty thing like you would know Blake?”

“Well, you know – you never forget stuff like that, do you?” you bluff.

You needn’t have tried so hard. It becomes clear that it is more the beauty of your figure than your words which is attracting the attention of the guests. Mistress Jessica quietly fumes – her plan to humble you has been foiled by the guest’s preference for pretty blonde women.

After a few minutes conversation Mistress Jessica intervenes. “Apologies, sir, but this slave girl is due a meeting with the master.”

“What a pity – she’s the most delightful company – do come back and share some more of your wonderful poetry with me soon.”

“Of course, sir,” you curtsy before being dragged away.

“Come,” says Mistress Jessica, tugging your leash. “That’s about all the work we’ll get out of you, I think. Time to face your destiny with the Master.”

Turn to page 202.

Page 201

You shake with nerves. Classical poetry? What do you know of that? You try your best.

Tiger Tiger. burning bright, In the forests of the night; What … umm … oh! immortal hand or eye. Err…

“What’s this?” cries a guest in pinstripe trousers. “This ignorant bit of fluff doesn’t know anything of classical poetry!”

Mistress Jessica shakes her head sadly and sighs. “Clearly you have been affecting airs and graces above your station. A punishment seems appropriate.”

Your leash is tugged and you are compelled to bend over, your long skirt rolled up until your full bottom is exposed. One of the guests presents Mistress Jessica with a portable cane, concealed inside his umbrella, which Mistress Jessica uses to lash your naked bottom.

Vip! Vip! Vip!

“Come,” says Mistress Jessica, tugging your leash. “That’s about all the work we’ll get out of you, I think. Time to face your destiny with the Master.”

Turn to page 202.

Page 202

You tremble in apprehension as you are led towards the Master. He is seated on an ancient looking wooden throne, beautiful half-naked slave girls kneeling at his feet, or standing ready with wine and food should the mood take him. A number of guests break off from their usual pursuits to observe – the first meeting of slave and master is a matter of great gossip and importance in the house.

The Master, at first, seems not to notice you, lost in his own dark thoughts. The guests, dressed madly in a riot of different costumes and clothes from a hundred different eras, murmur in excitement.

Mistress Jessica leads you to within fifteen feet of the throne, then tugs sharply upon your leash, bringing you to your knees. You gaze in wonder at your brooding Master. There is something eternal, something otherworldly about him. The craving to throw yourself at his feet and worship him seems almost overwhelming, and if you were not so intimidated you might be compelled to do just that.

“My Master,” says Mistress Jessica firmly. “Your newest slave waits to serve you.”

The Master, broken from his reverie turns his head towards you, his eyes boring into your own. You cannot help but lower your head submissively.

“Welcome,” he says, his voice like gravel. “By now you must know that this is no ordinary house, nor I no ordinary lord. Since the dawn of time, when humanity first crafted civilization, men and women have sought to subjugate the other. All take pleasure in the submission of their fellows, and equally deep inside, all desire to submit themselves and their dignity for the pleasure of others.”

“But the world of tradition and convention can be a stifling one – that is why this place came into being. It is a place that exists within all times and yet outside of time as well. In this house women come to subjugate themselves before me – and in return they live forever young as servants of myself and my guests.”

“My guests come from every time imaginable – men and women who wish to sample the unusual delights outside of conventional society. Most are dream visitors, made flesh whilst they explore the manor, only to dissolve back into the real world when they awake. Other guests give up their mortal bodies to remain here forever. It is for the sake of my guests that slave girls labour and wriggle under the lash – which they must do gratefully or be forever banished.”

“Some, few, slaves can arise to the level of Mistress – overseers of the submissive hordes. Their duty is to maintain order through fear and punishment, lest the slaves revolt and the manor dissolve into the ether. For without the authority of the Master, the manor would not exist. In exchange for their toil, the Mistresses live in absolute luxury, and can command any slave to perform any act they desire to make the life of the Mistress more comfortable and rewarding. The wishes of slaves are of no consequence to a Mistress.”

“Lastly – one Mistress can arise to the level of Supreme Mistress, my trusted confidant, and the only slave who can reject the commands of a guest – if she feels she has reason to. She speaks with my authority, and all Mistresses are ultimately beholden to her and her lash. The one who holds your leash, Mistress Jessica, currently holds this title – and has done for years beyond count.”

“So, now I ask you – what do you want, kitchen slave?”

You realise it is your time to speak. The eyes of the whole hall are upon you.

Will you: Ask to go home? Turn to page 203.
Ask to serve the Master as his slave? Turn to page 204.
Ask to serve the Master as a Mistress? Turn to page 205.

Page 203

“Please … Master,” you choke. “I’ve been trapped in your horrid house for months, now. Please let me go! I don’t belong here!”

There is shocked murmuring across the hall, which is instantly silenced by the Master’s raised hand.

“Then forgive me – the calling, the spell that summoned you, normally only summons those who willingly seek submission. If our magic has failed you, you have my apologies. I shall summon a mechanic to see to your vehicle, and here forever release you from my service.”

You shake your head in disbelief. “But – you’ve kept me here for weeks, I’ve probably lost my job and my flat…”

“No,” smiles the Master. “No time will have passed by the time you return to your car. It will be as if none of this had ever happened…”

And the Master is right. As if in a dream you are lead from the manor, your clothes and possessions returned to you. Soon you are outside in the evening air, the rain soaking you to the skin. Your car is ahead. A roadside assistance van is near it, a mechanic just closing the bonnet of the car, the sound of the purring engine filling the dark woodland.

“Just a flat battery, Madame,” the mechanic says. “All covered by your insurance. Shouldn’t have any more trouble.”

You look around yourself in bewilderment. Where is the manor? When did you leave?

“Thanks…” you mutter to the mechanic, touching your unblemished bottom as if seeking some proof of your trials.

You get safely home that night, and return to your everyday life. Indeed, not a single day has past since your breakdown and no one has missed you.

A few years later, out of curiosity, you attempt to find the manor again, but are never able to find the single lane road you got stuck down, nor the path that lead to the forbidden manor. You have your life back … but did you miss out on something infinitely more glorious?

Your adventure ends here.

Page 204

Hardly daring to look at the master, you call out to him your earnest desire only to serve him as his lowest slave and possession.

Add one to your Submission attribute.

The Master examines you critically.

If you have the trait ‘Blonde’ you may add one Fame point. “A natural blonde,” growls the Master. “There is something divine and special about being served by a golden haired girl intent only on your pleasure. Such a feature is greatly in your favour.”

If you have the trait ‘Busty’ you may add one Fame point. “You are a well endowed girl,” observes the Master. “This opens up many avenues for pleasure and punishment in equal measure. Those succulent fruits shall see useful service, for sure.”

Lose one Fame point for each of the following codewords you possess: GUTLESS, BOTTLE, MODEST.

If you have 3 or more Fame points Turn to page 206.
If you have 2 or less Fame points Turn to page 207.

Page 205

There is a general laugh from the assembled guests. You have overstepped your authority and are now being ridiculed. Lose 1 Dignity point.

“Ambitious, I’m sure,” smiles the Master. “You may yet achieve your goal – but you must learn to serve before you can command.”

The Master examines you critically.

Lose one Fame point for each of the following codewords you possess: GUTLESS, BOTTLE, MODEST.

If you have 3 or more Fame points Turn to page 206.
If you have 2 or less Fame points Turn to page 207.

Page 206

“Your fame has reached even my ears,” smiles the Master. “I think you should make an interesting slave. Do you promise to love and serve me and my chosen Mistresses from now until the end of time, acting only to further my pleasures and those of my guests?”

The answer is obvious. “Yes, Master,” you utter breathlessly, lowering your head in submission to his will.

“Then it is time you imbibed the Essence – to bind you to me for all time,” he utters menacingly. With tremendous reverence the Master’s attending slave girls open his black trousers, softly releasing his massive, erect cock, stroking it to full hardness.

The very sight of it is intimidating, huge and swollen. The slave girls glide their hands across it like a holy relic, some drooling at the very sight of the throbbing member.

“Go girl,” hisses Mistress Jessica. “Crawl to the Master on your knees and drink his essence. It shall revitalise and bind you. Use only your mouth – only a cockslave has permission to touch with their hands.”

You nod numbly. As if mesmerised you advance.

If Mistress Jessica dressed you as a slave your hands are still secured, and you are forced to shuffle forwards rather than crawl, in an awkward display that sends your bare breasts bouncing, to the titters of the guests. Reduce your Dignity by 1.

The cockslaves depart as you near the Master’s enormous cock, all except one, who flips around to lie almost on her back, extending her tongue to lick the Masters balls.

Gingerly, in fear of his disapproval, you prepare to pleasure the Master…

Snap!

You howl out, just inches from the Master’s cock. Mistress Jessica has just lashed your backside with a heavy tawse. You cannot think what mistake you have made to justify such rough treatment.

Snap!

“Some encouragement for you, slave,” smiles the Master. “The guests appreciate a speedy ritual…”

Snap! Snap!

Raise your Bum Status by 1 level.

You had best proceed with haste!

Will you: Take the Master’s cock deep into your throat? Turn to page 208.
Put your mouth over the bell end and lick in a swift, circular fashion? Turn to page 209.
Gently lick and nibble the very end of the Master’s cock, teasing him softly? Turn to page 210.

Page 207

The Master considers you for several moments, the tension in the hall oppressive as guests wait in anticipation. Finally the Master speaks:

“To be frank, I have heard nothing good regarding your service to me. Few Mistresses have much to say about you, and what little they do say does not bode well. Therefore you shall continue to serve me as a Kitchen slave, content to feed myself and my guests, under the tyranny of Mrs. Kent’s lash for the rest of your days. Take this slave away…”

“But … but Master,” you blub, tears welling in your eyes, “I could have done so much more…”

“Agreed,” says the Master ignoring your impertinence as a final act of mercy. “A shame you did not demonstrate this ambition throughout the many months of your service to me.”

A laugh begins to echo across the hall from the inebriated guests. The Master has pronounced his doom, and the guests revel in your misery.

You return to the kitchens, where you spend the rest of time slaving and sweating for a Master you will never see – your backside never free of Mrs. Kent’s bruising strap…

Your adventure ends here.

Page 208

Opening your mouth wide and raising your uvula you boldly plunge the Master’s enormous cock to the back of your throat. The great size makes this acutely uncomfortable, but Mistress Jessica’s harrying tawse across your buttocks lends you bravery.

Snap! Snap! Snap!

Raise your Bum Status by 1 Level.

You grunt through your filled throat, bobbing your head with mounting speed. Alas, the Master, although clearly enjoying your efforts seems no nearer to coming, riding through your storm of throat fucking even as his attending slave girl suckles on his balls.

Snap! Snap! Snap!

Raise your Bum Status by 1 Level.

This isn’t working – you’ll have to try something else before Mistress Jessica whips your bottom purple!

Will you: Put your mouth over the bell end and lick in a swift, circular fashion? Turn to page 209.
Gently lick and nibble the very end of the Master’s cock, teasing him softly? Turn to page 210.

Page 209

With a loving embrace, you slide your lips over the end of your Master’s cock, lapping and swirling around the end in an alternately delicate and rough motion – trying to maintain your own pace despite Mistress Jessica’s lashing tawse!

Snap! Snap! Snap!

Raise your Bum Status by 1 Level.

Your bottom dances as you persist, and yet the Master seems immune to your skills, comfortably holding off as he watches your backside blister under the onslaught. The guests laugh at you as you are beaten. What are you doing wrong?

Snap! Snap! Snap!

Raise your Bum Status by 1 Level.

You decide to switch tactics – there is only so long you can resist such fierce punishment without grovelling for mercy!

Will you: Take the Master’s cock deep into your throat? Turn to page 208.
Gently lick and nibble the very end of the Master’s cock, teasing him softly? Turn to page 210.

Page 210

Ignoring Mistress Jessica’s swift lashing of your arse, you softly nibble and peck across your Master’s cock, just gliding your tongue gently down its length a short distance, teasing the pee-hole, and occasionally lapping the edges of his bell-end.

Snap! Snap! Snap!

Raise your Bum Status by 1 Level.

Mistress Jessica seems frantic to interrupt you, but the Master holds up his hand to slow her strokes, impressed at your fortitude and disciple under the strap.

You feel you are doing well – but the Master isn’t going to come with this gentle attention. Something rougher will be required next.

Will you: Take the Master’s cock deep into your throat? Turn to page 208.
Put your mouth over the bell end and lick in a swift, circular fashion? Turn to page 211.

Page 211

Snap! Snap! Snap!

Raise your Bum Status by 1 Level.

Your bottom dances as you persist, adding greatly to the Master’s (and the guests’) visual enjoyment of the spectacle. Once again the Master directs Mistress Jessica to go easy on you – a clear sign of his mounting pleasure.

Something more will be required for your final reward…

Will you: Take the Master’s cock deep into your throat? Turn to page 213.
Gently lick and nibble the very end of the Master’s cock, teasing him softly? Turn to page 212.

Page 212

Feeling the Master’s cock shudder you go back to your gentle teasing and licking, denying him his immediate pleasure.

“Impertinent slut,” grunts the Master, displeased. Mistress Jessica, enraged at your behaviour lashes your bum cheeks with impunity.

Snap! Snap! Snap!

You cannot help but cry out under a dozen or more strokes laid on back to back. Raise your Bum Status by 3 levels and gain the codeword COCKTEASE.

This has been a serious error. If you don’t get back on track now, you won’t be sitting down for weeks!

Will you: Take the Master’s cock deep into your throat? Turn to page 208.
Put your mouth over the bell end and lick in a swift, circular fashion? Turn to page 210.

Page 213

Snap! Snap! Snap!

Raise your Bum Status by 1 Level.

You grunt through your filled throat, bobbing your head with mounting speed. The Master, who was before on the very edge of coming, gives a great grunt and unleashes - his thick, pearly come pouring down your throat and into your gullet. You moan in raw delight, a potent orgasm ripping through you as the Master empties his balls – the Essence filling you with a fraction of the Master’s own unearthly power.

Raise all your attributes by 1 point.

Mistress Jessica ceases her whipping, and you slide off the Master’s cock in exhaustion, splashes of his come splattering across your face and breasts as you sprawl to the floor in ecstasy. With lightning speed, the Master’s cock slaves are upon you, licking your face clean of their beloved Master’s come – ensuring not a single drop touches the earth, whilst the luckier slaves lap and suck hungrily at the Master’s own softening cock, shivering in their own orgasms at the touch of his Essence.

If you have the Codeword COCKTEASE Turn to page 214.
If not read on.

“A skilled performance,” concedes the Master, batting away his troublesome cockslaves once he has deemed himself clean, “and a worthy first attempt.”

You glow with pride, and crawl back to your knees. “Thank you, Master,” you purr.

Add 1 to your submission score.

Now Turn to page 215.

Page 214

“You are a wilful, insolent slave,” grunts the Master. “You have much to learn about your insignificant place in this manor – but I am a patient instructor. You shall be punished at a time and place of my choosing. You must live in dread until that fateful hour that I call you.”

You crawl to your knees, shaking. “Forgive me, Master,” you blurt. “I sought only to pleasure you.”

“Your insolence poisoned your intents – but you shall learn, in time.”

Lose 2 Submission points.

Now Turn to page 215.

Page 215

Having tasted the Master’s Essence you have become utterly besotted with him. Any thoughts you might have harboured about escape are banished – truly you are his now. You kneel before the Master, grateful even to be in his presence.

“I sense great potential within you,” says the Master, thoughtfully. “You must be broken in and rendered truly obedient, but there is definitely potential. You are now an Unassigned Slave in my service. You will be allowed to choose, within reason, how you wish to serve my house and guests. When you feel worthy enough to be in my presence again you may arrange an appointment through Mistress Jessica. But I should warn you – the next time we meet in this hall I shall assign you your permanent duty. Whether that duty is as a Mistress or insignificant slave shall be determined by your conduct in my service.”

“Thank you, Master,” you say, averting your eyes from his powerful gaze.

“Jessica – take this slave away, and explain to her the duties available.”

“Yes, Master,” bows Mistress Jessica, passing the tawse to a nearby slave and hauling you up on to your feet. You are escorted back down the hall, the other guests gazing upon you with intrigue. Every slave girl in the house has had the same induction as you have just experienced – but perhaps the crowd, like the Master, see something more in you? Only time will tell…

Turn to page 216.

Page 216

Slave Hub

You are at the Slave Hub, between duties in your service to the Master. Each time you return here you are given several days of rest so you can recover from your experiences. You can lower your Bum Status by 4 levels, and add 1 to a single attribute if you have just arrived, or if you have completed one of the slave employments below.

Now you must choose new employment for yourself. There are several vacancies to choose from and you can ask Mistress Jessica about each one before you commit yourself to service.

You can only perform each employment once, for example, you can’t volunteer to be a Cleaning Slave twice.

The vacancies are:

Assistant to the Loremistress – Turn to page 217.
Cleaning Slave – Turn to page 218.
Slave Training – Turn to page 219.

If you have the codeword PONY, there might be another option you want to consider – Turn to page 220.

Or you could request to meet the Master for your permanent assignment (only if you have completed at least one other employment) – Turn to page 221.

Page 217

“The Loremistress,” explains Mistress Jessica, “is the keeper of all records, historical, magical and financial relating to manor and it’s almost infinite history. She is quite mad. Most slaves, and mistresses too, tend not to bother with the mystic details of the manor – they just accept their circumstances and deal with it the best they can. The Loremistress is the reservoir of all forbidden knowledge, and it has driven her crazy.”

Mistress Jessica looks upon you for a moment, almost with a trace of guilt. “I’ll be frank – this post is almost always vacant. Assistants tend to go either mad, or run away. The library is in a terrible condition, and the Loremistress desperately needs an assistant but…”

Mistress Jessica hesitates a moment before reluctantly adding. “If you choose to end your service with the Loremistress at any time – perhaps because you feel your situation is becoming too hazardous – you may do so, with no threat of punishment from me.”

This sounds ominous stuff – but perhaps the Loremistress has information that might assist you in your ascent through the strict house hierarchy?

If you agree to be the Assistant to the Loremistress Turn to page 222.

If not, turn back to page 216 and choose something else.

Page 218

“Not much to explain,” shrugs Mistress Jessica. “The house is huge, with hundreds of rooms. Cleaning Slaves keep the place tidy.”

“Doesn’t sound very exciting…” you mutter.

A twinkle enters Mistress Jessica’s eyes. “Then you show how new you are – it was when I was a cleaning slave that I discovered my talent for … command, shall we say? Cleaning duty is organised chaos – cleaning sluts can be brutal and prejudiced, especially to new girls. But the Master is interested in how girls cope with each other. In any case, it’s a right of passage. No one takes seriously a girl who hasn’t got her hands dirty – but it’s your choice…”

Will you agree to be a Cleaning Slave? If so Turn to page 246.

If not, turn back to page 216 and choose something else.

Page 219

“Girls can volunteer for slave training in order to learn the formal rules and conduct of appropriate behaviour in front of the Master and his guests,” explains Mistress Jessica. “The Master likes girls who obey instinctively, without thought, Slave Training does that.”

“It’s also rather intimate,” she smiles, with a far away expression on her face. “A slave has to approach a mistress and beg to be trained. It’s then a two way relationship, with the slave receiving training, affection and punishment, whilst the mistress’ reputation is enhanced with a well trained slave. Of course it’s tough work for the slave. I’ve ground many a grovelling slave into the dirt who thought they could manage me as a mistress. Most of them are broken shells of slaves now – but a few have gone on to be mistresses themselves…”

Would you like to embark upon Slave Training? If so Turn to page 368.

If not, turn back to page 216 and choose something else.

Page 220

“Excuse me, miss,” you ask Mistress Jessica. “But one of the guests invited me to become a pony girl. Would I be able to do that?”

Mistress Jessica looks surprised. “That,” she says, “is normally only the recourse of the desperate. Pony girls are hitched, virtually naked, to a racing cart and made to compete in humiliating races for the leering pleasure of the crowd. I often wonder what the Master sees in it...”

“The Master is a fan of Pony Girl races, then?” you press, the very mention of the Master sending a shiver of ecstasy down your spine.

Mistress Jessica looks annoyed. “Yes,” she says reluctantly. “Many slave girls, begging for the Master’s attention, sacrifice all their dignity to become the playthings of the Pony Girl carters – but the training is degrading, and their treatment appalling. And in the end only one Pony Girl gets showered in glory. I doubt you’ll make the grade, frankly.”

Do you wish to volunteer as a Pony Girl? If so, Turn to page 105.

If not, turn back to page 216 and choose something else.

Page 221

You inform Mistress Jessica that you are ready to assume your permanent assignment, whatever it is that the Master deems fit to give you.

“I believe you are right,” says Mistress Jessica wisely. “I think we know what to make of you now. There is a hearing arranged tomorrow for another slave girl. You may join her for your permanent assignment.”

If you have the codeword LILLY or COCKTEASE Turn to page 456.

If not, but you do have the codeword LOSER, Turn to page 457.

If you have none of these codewords, Turn to page 476.

Page 222

Compared with some of the costumes you’ve been given, the Assistant to the Loremistress’ garb is positively dignified, if a little archaic. Long, flowing robes, cream coloured with black spidery runes on the cuffs now adorn your body. Naturally underwear is forbidden, and you wonder if any slave in the household has them as part of their standard uniform, or whether the greedy mistresses keep such luxuries to themselves.

The Loremistress has quarters in the manor’s observation tower, creepily isolated from the rest of the house. For the first time in a long while the sounds of whipping, moaning and laughing cannot reach your ears – but it also means there is no one around to hear your cries for help…

You knock loudly upon the solid wooden double doors of the tower, located in a vast but empty stone corridor which looks undusted and uncleaned. Obviously even the Cleaning slaves have permission to avoid the tower, so fierce is the Loremistress’ reputation.

The door swings open, apparently by themselves, to reveal a large, chaotic gothic library, lit gloomily by open fires and floating candles. Books lie stacked in piles around half empty shelves that soar hundreds of feet into the air. Long ladders, carved with goblin heads on each rung, totter dangerously against the shelves. Scrolls and leaflets, cards and flyers are scattered over tables awash with paper. The library is in anarchy.

Drifting out of a darkened corner comes the Loremistress herself. She is garbed similarly to yourself, although her robes are grander, if more ragged around the edges. She has stringy, unkempt blonde hair, and wild blue eyes that seem to light up the room. If is difficult to tell her age – older than you, certainly, but she seems to have a rather ageless quality that lends old eyes to her young face. From what you have heard the Loremistress has kept her position for hundreds of years. The very thought sends a shiver down you.

“Welcome, welcome!” cries the Loremistress. “A thousand thanks for volunteering to help me … this place is in utter chaos – the last girl they sent me was useless, simply useless!”

“It is my pleasure, Loremistress,” you curtsy, eager to get off on the right footing.

“Oh pooh!” laughs the Loremistress. “I do not care for all that silly domineering that goes on in the rest of this house. You and I are not mistress and slave – but friends. Call me Dorothy – or Dotty, if you prefer.”

You smile – she seems to like you. “Thank you, Dorothy…”

“Dotty…” she insists, her smile falling slightly.

“Dotty,” you correct carefully. The Loremistress looks warily at you, but then quickly beams.

“Well – you’re here to learn as well as work,” she says breezily. “Read anything you like – nothing’s forbidden. It’s strange how none of the other girls take any interest in reading these days. Why, the secrets they could learn! But come, on – let’s make a start. You begin sorting that pile of books by their codes, and I’ll begin filing these request scrolls. This will be fun, fun, fun!”

Eager to make a good first impression you begin … but are interrupted almost immediately.

“Sorry, sorry!” says the Loremistress dramatically. “I forgot – little thing, really. But you have to wear this – it’s part of the uniform. I’m so used to it now I barely notice I have it!”

The Loremistress opens an ironbound chest. From it she produces a grotesque dildo, complete with straps to hold it in. The dildo itself is studded with small, and not so small, horns along its length. It looks terribly painful.

Will you? Thank the Loremistress, and immediately insert the horrible thing into yourself? Turn to page 223.
Ask why you have to wear it? Turn to page 224.
Flatly refuse to wear it? Turn to page 231.

Page 223

Gingerly, with the Loremistress’ eyes locked upon you at all times, you sit upon a chair and open your robes. Opening your legs as wide as possible you begin to push the horrible dildo in, the sharp horns grazing the walls of your sex as you push.

If your Willpower is not at least 6 you can get the nasty thing in only half way. The Loremistress tuts, and grips the end of the dildo to shove it roughly in right to its base. You howl in pain and indignity. Lose 1 Dignity point.

Eventually, with the whole ghastly thing inserted inside you, the Loremistress fastens the straps to hold it in place.

“It’s good for your concentration,” she insists. “Stops me from having to use that nasty cane on you! Well, are you comfortable?”

You are anything but. “Yes – thank you, Dotty,” you reply, eager not to rouse her temper.

“Excellent!” she cries. “Well, press on with those books – so much to do, so much to do…”

The dildo is both excruciating and humiliating. Reduce your Willpower and Dignity by 1 point each.

Turn to page 233.

Page 224

The Loremistress stamps her foot. From behind a pile of books she produces an ancient, rather split, bamboo cane. “I don’t expect to be questioned! Now, are you going to behave or do I have to use this on you?”

If you have the trait Lust for the Cane Turn to page 225.
If not, read on.

What will you do? Quietly take the dildo and attempt to insert it? Turn to page 223.
Apologise for offending the Loremistress? Turn to page 226.
Refuse to wear the dildo? Turn to page 231.

Page 225

The sight of the cane makes your stomach swirl and your face flush. “Please, Dotty,” you say, eyes downcast. “I can be ever such a disobedient girl. I think it might be best if you used that on me, anyway, then I’m bound to do what you say, for fear of another lashing.”

The Loremistress looks on you with wonder, amazed that you would suggest such a thing. “I see…”

She looks you up and down, as if for the first time.

“And how many strokes would it take to make you behave?”

What will you answer?

A dozen? Turn to page 227.
Two dozen? Turn to page 228.
Three dozen? Turn to page 229.
Four dozen? Turn to page 230.

Page 226

“I don’t do apologies!” hisses the Loremistress. “You have made me lose my temper – now I must thrash you! How many do you think you deserve?”

What a question! What will you answer?

A dozen? Turn to page 227.
Two dozen? Turn to page 228.
Three dozen? Turn to page 229.
Four dozen? Turn to page 230.

Page 227

“A feeble dozen!” shrieks the Loremistress. “You insult me! I don’t think you’re sorry at all. It will take at least four dozen to tame that weak attitude of yours!”

You tremble in trepidation – your weakness has brought this terrible punishment upon you!

Turn to page 230.

Page 228

“Two dozen … two dozen,” mutters the Loremistress considering the cane. “I beat argumentative assistants so rarely that there barely seems to be any point in delivering only two dozen strokes. Let’s make it three dozen and have done!”

Your belly gives a flutter – you are likely to be sorely tested.

Turn to page 229.

Page 229

“Three dozen then,” chants the Loremistress. “We’ll have you on the chair … kneel up on the cushion, facing the right arm. Then bend right over, your hands touching the floor. Strip off, first – your robes are too long and heavy for this kind of work.”

You swallow and nod, dropping your robes to the floor in a single fluid move. Kneeling upon the chair and bending over the arm has your bottom thrust up vulnerably in the air, whilst your head hangs upside down, only kept off the floor by your supporting hands. You realise that whilst in this position there is no possibility of breaking pose to protect your bottom from the incoming cane.

“Nasty, disobedient girl!” mutters the Loremistress. “You deserve every stroke!”

Vip! Vip!

The Loremistress lashes you two blistering strokes across your proffered backside, with a skill and strength you did not expect. You can’t help but squeak in shock as your bum stings in protest.

“No unseemly whimpering,” warns the Loremistress. “I don’t mind the odd chirp, but a noisy girl only gets extra!”

Vip! Vip! Vip!

You swallow a cry as the Loremistress continues your lashing. The strokes continue to fall, and soon your backside is a blazing canvass of scarlet track-lines which throb mercilessly in warm library.

If your Willpower is less than 7, you are unable to keep quiet, and cry out several times. The Loremistress is unforgiving, delivering an extra dozen for defying her. Raise your Bum Status by 2 levels.

The swish of the cane fills the library, your odd, muted squeaks echoing across the infinite floors to disturb the nesting bats in the rafters. The cane sweeps down with merciless regularity, the little vortices of air lifting loose paper to flutter around you as you a cruelly beaten.

By the end of your punishment your backside is raw. Raise your Bum Status by 5 levels and lose 2 ambition points. You have no intention of defying the Loremistress again!

The Loremistress lightens, apparently forgetting about the dildo, giving you permission to rise, not even bothering to admire her handy-work.

“Excellent!” she cries. “Well, press on with those books – so much to do, so much to do…”

The Loremistress returns to her scrolls, apparently leaving you to your work, which you do without further complaint.

Turn to page 233.

Page 230

“Four dozen strokes, and not a stroke less!” demands the Loremistress, a fiery look in her eyes. “We’ll have you on the chair … kneel up on the cushion, facing the right arm. Then bend right over, your hands touching the floor. Strip off, first – your robes are too long and heavy for this kind of work.”

“Nasty, disobedient girl!” mutters the Loremistress. “You deserve every stroke!”

Vip! Vip!

The Loremistress lashes you two blistering strokes across your proffered backside, with a skill and strength you did not expect. You can’t help but squeak in shock as your bum stings in protest.

“No unseemly whimpering,” warns the Loremistress. “I don’t mind the odd chirp, but a noisy girl only gets extra!”

Vip! Vip! Vip!

You swallow a cry as the Loremistress continues your lashing. The strokes continue to fall, and soon your backside is a blazing canvass of scarlet track lines which throb mercilessly in warm library.

The swish of the cane fills the library, your odd, muted squeak echoing across the infinite floors to disturb the nesting bats in the rafters. The cane sweeps down with merciless regularity, the little vortices of air lifting loose paper to flutter around you as you a cruelly beaten.

The long beating is taking its toll, and it is only through the total submersion of your will that you can stand it without crying out! If your Submission is less than 8, you can’t help but howl out and sob as you are beaten past thirty-six strokes. The Loremistress, unyielding, awards you with an extra dozen to fortify you. Raise you Bum Status by 2 levels.

By the end of your punishment your backside is raw. Raise your Bum Status by 6 levels and lose 2 ambition points. You have no intention of defying the Loremistress again!

The Loremistress lightens, apparently forgetting about the dildo, giving you permission to rise, not even bothering to admire her handy-work.

“Excellent!” she cries. “Well, press on with those books – so much to do, so much to do…”

The Loremistress returns to her scrolls, apparently leaving you to your work, which you do without further complaint.

Turn to page 233.

Page 231

A sudden change comes over the Loremistress. Her face flushes as red as a demon’s, and she bares her teeth like a wild animal. “What?” she shrieks with a voice that echoes across the tower.

You realise you have crossed the wrong woman. Your only hope is to beg an apology to stay her rage. If your Submission is 6 or more, Turn to page 232.
Otherwise, read on.

You blather an apology, but the Loremistress will have none of it. From a nearby rack she grabs a long, heavy whip, and proceeds to chase you around the tower, lashing you as she goes. For several minutes you duck behind bookcases, dash up endless stairwells and try to protect your body with loose books – to little avail, you are lashed cruelly, until you are forced to flee the library in disgrace, the Loremistress hurling curses at you as you go.

Raise your Bum Status by 3 levels, and also lose three points from your Ambition score. You have no choice but to trudge back to the Slave Hub and choose a new career.

Lose 1 Fame Point – although no one really blames you for fleeing the mad Loremistress, you didn’t even last a day!

Turn to page 216.

Page 232

In a shameless and pity inducing display, you fall to your hands and knees before the Loremistress and beg her forgiveness, blaming your previous wilfulness on the lax discipline of your former mistress.

“Oh! Beat me Dotty!” you beg cravenly, kissing her heals. “Help me to change!”

The Loremistress seems satisfied, her colour returning to more human levels, as she coolly takes a long, whippy cane from behind a nearby bookstand.

“Then help you I shall,” she growls, flexing the cane in her hands.

Turn to page 230.

Page 233

The book cataloguing system is bizarre and complex, but the Loremistress is oddly patient with you, not seeming to mind your endless clarifications or your slow speed. The vast majority of the books are books on punishment – every stroke awarded by every mistress awarded for posterity, along with comments on the endurance of the victim.

One book, which catches your attention, lists a bizarre system of numbered punishment positions. Position one is bending over clutching knees. Position two bending over to touch toes. Position three is like two, but with the penitent opening their legs widely open so as to be able to see the stroke before it falls. Position four is taken lying on back, hands gripping the backs of the knees. Position five is also upon your back, but with legs stretched into the air and held wide open. Position six is sat up straight upon your knees, hands behind back, breasts thrust out. You pity the poor slave girl that has to memorise these!

You come across one tome which records a beating of someone you know – Candy from the kitchens. In it she is beaten by a Miss. Rose, who records that Candy takes her strokes ‘like the cringing slut she is – weeping, full of self-pity, and unable to make less that a total spectacle of herself’.

If you have the Codeword HOTTER or BROKEN, Turn to page 234.

Otherwise you quickly file the book away, feeling slightly flushed.

That evening you consider the events of the day. The Loremistress is clearly quite mad, but she seems to like you … sort of. You ponder whether you should get out whilst the going is good, or stay and try to prove your worth.

Do you: Sneak out of the Library and back to the Slave Hub? Turn to page 216.
Resolve to stay for a while? Turn to page 239.

Page 234

There is space at the bottom of the page. A quirky thought occurs to you. You could fill in the details of your punishment of Candy, if you wish. If you want to do this, Turn to page 235.
If not, read on:

You quickly file the book away, feeling slightly flushed.

Do you: Sneak out of the Library and back to the Slave Hub? Turn to page 216.
Resolve to stay for a while? Turn to page 239.

Page 235

The Loremistress does not so much as bat an eyelid as you reach for a quill and ink, preparing to describe your punishment of Candy. You scribble down the bare facts of the encounter, how you had her stripped and lashed, describing the number of strokes and the implements used.

How do you wish to describe Candy’s endurance?

Will you be flattering towards Candy, saying that she bore herself very well given your strict usage of her? Turn to page 236.

Will you be scrupulously honest, admitting that Candy sometimes had the gall to complain or whimper just a little excessively? Turn to page 237.

Or will you be cruelly abrasive, describing Candy as a pitiful, cringing milksop who took her strokes with little dignity or grace? Turn to page 238.

Page 236

You paint a heroic picture of Candy’s endurance, falsely claiming she never so much as squeaked despite your cruel lashing of her.

Upon finishing you feel somehow diminished. You have robbed history of the truth of your encounter and sold yourself and your whipping skills short. Reduce your Dignity and Ambition scores by 2 each.

You quickly file the book away, feeling slightly flushed.

Do you: Sneak out of the Library and back to the Slave Hub? Turn to page 216.
Resolve to stay for a while? Turn to page 239.

Page 237

Your account is accurate, if a little dry. You finish your entry satisfied in yourself you have left a true recording of the encounter. Add 1 to your Dignity.

You quickly file the book away, feeling slightly flushed.

Do you: Sneak out of the Library and back to the Slave Hub? Turn to page 216.
Resolve to stay for a while? Turn to page 239.

Page 238

You lavish criticism on Candy, recording how she shook, wailed and begged you for mercy, cringing at every stroke and weeping piteously. It is a canticle of lies, designed only to boost your own bravado. Lose 1 Dignity point by gain 1 Ambition as you sneeringly record your falsehoods.

Gain the codeword TELL.

You quickly file the book away, feeling rather satisfied with yourself.

Do you: Sneak out of the Library and back to the Slave Hub? Turn to page 216.
Resolve to stay for a while? Turn to page 239.

Page 239

You awake the next morning somewhat refreshed. Lower your Bum Status by 2 levels.

Your breakfast is presented to you by the shaking hands of one of the kitchen girls, who presents the Loremistress with her sumptuous faire before dashing out of the library. Apparently ignorant of the fear she induces, the Loremistress munches on, avidly reading her book.

“You should read this – fascinating descriptions of the manor in its former glory,” says the Loremistress, pushing the tome towards you.

You obediently study the tome as you eat your own breakfast. Initially, you do not expect anything of interest, but within minutes you are hooked…

“… the next Master favoured the works of Edgar Allen Poe, and insisted on a reading of poetry before the pleasures of the hall began. His successor was not so high minded, insisting instead that the revelry should only begin when the first tear from the eye of the whipping girl struck the floor. The next Master demanded total obedience from…”

“The next Master!” you cry in amazement. “You mean … the Master isn’t always the same man?”

The Loremistress laughs. “Why – of course not, you ignorant girl! We have had many Masters, each with their own ways and peculiarities. It is ultimately the guests who decide the identity of the Master, and he rules with an iron rod until he is deposed.”

The very idea almost feels like blasphemy. Since you imbibed the Master’s essence, even the thought of betrayal fills you with horror. “But are we not bound to eternal obedience to this Master, until the end of time itself?”

The Loremistress grunts at you. “It is the title you owe your allegiance to, not the man. The new Master gains the powers of the last, and you shall discard him the moment a new one is selected – which does not happen often, fortunately…”

You are intrigued. “But how is a new Master selected…?”

“Enough questions!” booms the Loremistress. “It is unseemly behaviour for a slave! It is your duty to submit, not question!”

“Sorry, Dotty…” you mutter lowly.

“You shall call me Loremistress – you impertinent hussy!” shrieks the Loremistress, rising to full height. “Clearly I have been too lax with you! Come with me!”

Cringing, you follow the Loremistress until you reach a large, spiral staircase. Manacles dangle down from the landing above, some six and a half feet up. The Loremistress orders you to strip whilst she fetches you a stool to stand upon. Trembling, you obey, realising the insane Loremistress cannot be reasoned with. Once naked, you are instructed to stand upon the stool and lock your wrists into the manacles. No sooner is this done, when the Loremistress kicks the stool away from under you, leaving you to dangle suspended by your wrists, whimpering at the painful stretch.

Taking her time, the Loremistress coldly selects a whip from a nearby store, and then proceeds to lash your defenceless body. Your back, bottoms and breasts are lashed, your legs kicking in the empty air as the Loremistress whips into your flesh.

Raise your Bum Status by 4 levels, and lose 1 Willpower point as you are helplessly beaten.

By the end, tears streak your face, and your body is covered liberally in whip weals.

“That should teach you some respect, you impertinent harlot!” spits the Loremistress, climbing up the stairwell to unlock your manacles, which has you crashing to the ground in a crumpled heap.

“Now get back to work!” she snaps.

You are shaking from her cruel usage of you.

Will you: Flee the Library and never return? Turn to page 216.
Or will you stay, if only to discover the secret lore contained in the library? Turn to page 240.

Page 240

You spend another full day sorting the Library. The Loremistress is considerably cooler with you, and you try to ensure you stay on a different level to her when you can.

You get a restless night’s sleep. Lower your Bum Status by 2 levels.

If you have the codeword LILLY or COCKTEASE, Turn to page 241.

Otherwise Turn to page 242.

Page 241

Breakfast is disturbed by a knock at the door. The Loremistress bids you answer it. Beyond stands the Steward, looking imperious in his black morning suit.

“Apologies Loremistress,” says the Steward. “But the Master demands the presence of his slave. Her punishment is now due.”

You gasp and tremble. So – it has finally come! How many sleepless nights have you suffered dreading this moment? A personal punishment from the Master!

“Of course – the Master’s will be done,” intones the Loremistress. “Please return her when the Master has finished – presuming she is in any fit state to be seen of course.”

The Steward bows, then turn to you. “Follow me, slave – the hour of dread has come…”

Turn to page 454.

Page 242

Soon you are back at work … but you are determined to uncover some of the mystery surrounding the Master. Surreptitiously you spy through dozens of tomes, hoping to find some secret that will help you to understand this weird place better. Finally you come across it, in a book entitled, “The Lost Masters”.

Apparently the last Master before this one was banished due to his unflinching cruelty to women, sometimes even going as far as subjecting his female guests to punishment and depravity. The Master before him was banished for a different reason – seemingly because he was too soft and merciful in his treatment to slaves. The guests demanded stricter punishments and had him replaced.

According to the book all the banished Masters are sent to the Underworld – a region of tunnels that exists beneath the mansion. It is a place they cannot escape, but which has been visited before by Mistresses in ages past who sought to uncover more about the previous rulers of the manor. Not all the Mistresses returned – and some say they were enslaved by the bitter Masters, to grovel on their hands and knees before the banished ones until doomsday.

This knowledge could be invaluable.

Will you:

Flee the Library, fearing the increasing madness of the Loremistress? Turn to page 216.
Remain, eager to learn more? Turn to page 243.

Page 243

“This book is filed incorrectly!” snaps the Loremistress at the end of an exhausting day. “It’s a historical account, not a punishment account!”

“Sorry, Loremistress,” you tremble. “But sometimes it’s rather difficult to tell the difference in this place…”

“Silence – another punishment is due!” she cries. “Something to sleep on, so you know to do better in the morning.”

The Loremistress drags you to a corner of the tower where a small squat cage, with a section of the back edge cut away, sits glinting in the firelight. “This shall be your new bed! No more comfort for you!”

You shake your head in horror. The cage is barely big enough to fit you.

“Clothes off and crawl in,” commands the Loremistress, opening the back of the cage wide.

With no alternatives possible, you once again strip off your robes and crawl naked into the tiny cage. There is not enough room to even move as press yourself inside, your limbs scrunched together tightly, your breasts compressed to your chest. The Loremistress locks you in, the bars digging into your flesh – except for your bottom, which sticks widely out of the part of the cage that has been cut away … leaving it quite vulnerable.

The Loremistress leaves you a few moments to consider your fate. The tight space is horribly confined. Surely she won’t leave you in here all night, unable to so much as stretch?

A few minutes late the Loremistress returns … with a tawse.

Snap! Snap! Snap!

The Loremistress begins to belabour your bulging buttocks, quickly paining them a fiery red as she seethes with barely controlled anger.

Snap! Snap! Snap!

You wriggle helplessly in your tiny cage, the bars pressing tightly into your flesh, unable to offer the slightest resistance to the continuous bombardment.

Snap! Snap! Snap!

You loose count of the strokes … but there were many, and your scalding buttocks throb in terrible complaint at her cruel usage of you. Raise your Bum Status by 4 levels.

The Loremistress leaves you to your sobbing, and to your despair, also leaves you confined in your cage for the entire night! Soon appalling cramps begin to wrack your body, as you are unable to so much as move a muscle. The Loremistress is quite mad! Surely she has gone far beyond acceptable levels of slave abuse!

Reduce your Willpower and Ambition by 2.

Come the morning, when you are finally released, you can barely move, and spend the first hour of the day carefully stretching your tormented muscles.

Will you: Crawl out of the Loremistress’s chamber, never to return? Turn to page 244.
Remain, in spite of the madness of your mistress? Turn to page 245.

Page 244

Bruised, cramped and terrified, you crawl naked out of the Library, the Loremistress watching you with cold indifference. The manor staff observe your struggles with a silent awe. You have lasted longer than any other slave who served the Loremistress – and they grant you the respect you have earned.

Gain 2 Fame points.

Now Turn to page 216.

Page 245

A week later, concerned, Mistress Jessica comes to check up on your progress. She finds you in the Library, sorting books.

However you are sorting them naked, covered in metal clamps that the Loremistress has affixed to your nipples, sex and across your body. Your head has been shaven, and a fat candle sits atop it, dripping hot candlewax down your body.

You are also laughing. Continuously.

Mistress Jessica shakes her head sadly and leaves.

You have been driven irretrievably insane by the Loremistress’ constant abuses, which came night and day, unendingly and inventively. Now you have been crafted into her perfect assistant. Only now do you understand the mad ordering system, for you are as mad as she, and the two of you will organise the library, laughing insanely, until the end of time itself…

Your adventure ends here.

Page 246

A new cleaning slave is presented with a bright, clean, maid’s outfit. Yours seems almost made to measure, fitting your curvatious body naturally. The skirt is a little short, and the cut rather low, but otherwise is it a perfect, mid-Victorian outfit that does much to enhance your figure.

If you have the trait Costume Roleplay, your Submission score will always count as 10, until you either cease to be a cleaning slave, or have to remove all your clothes.

You have been told to report to the cleaners’ kitchen for your first assignment. Eager to make a good impression you make your way down just before six in the morning – your usual starting time.

Entering the kitchen, which is bare except for bread, stove, mops, buckets, scrubbers and other plain cleaning equipment, you see two of your fellow maids here already … although things are not quite as you expected.

Sitting in a chair, her legs propped up on the back of another cleaning slave, is a young, quite beautiful maid. She is drinking tea, some of which she spills deliberately over the girl crouched on her hands and knees, acting as an impromptu table. The girl squeaks as the hot tea stains her dress and penetrates to her buttocks.

“Stop moaning, Samantha!” snaps the bossy maid. “You should consider it a privilege to make me tea. Would you rather have another beating?”

“No, Laura! Please! I apologised already for my laziness!” squeaks the pitiful Samantha.

“Quite right too,” drawls Laura. “Why – I was in danger of actually having to do some work myself! You know how cross that makes me!”

“Yes, Laura! Sorry, Laura!” moans the crouching girl.

Laura at last turns her head to look at you. “I suppose you’re the new Cleaning slut, right?” she smiles. “Good, less work for me. I’m Laura. I’m in charge here.”

You look at the arrogant young woman. She doesn’t look like a mistress. In fact, she is dressed like a slave, just like you.

“Don’t let appearances deceive you,” says Laura, seeing your confusion. “There’s a Mistress in charge of cleaning, but she almost never bothers checking on us. Neither has she seen fit to promote anyone to supervisor. That means we have to elect amongst ourselves who’s in charge. And that person is me.”

Laura seems quite confident in herself, and her cringing companion lends some weight to her words.

“First up, you can make me toast – nice and buttery,” commands Laura. “After that you get your introductory belting, just to show you I know how to hurt a girl. After that you can get on and do some bloody work.”

What will you do? Submit to Laura’s demands, galling as they are? Turn to page 247.
Ignore her? Turn to page 249.
Demand she get her feet off Samantha? Turn to page 250.

Page 247

You have no idea how things are done here, nor how truthful Laura is being. Still, she seems in charge, and making enemies on your first day seems unwise.

If your Submission is 5 or less, Turn to page 248.

“Yes, Laura,” you say meekly, drooping your head slightly. You quickly move over to the breadbin, carving Laura two heavy slices of bread. You toast the bread over the flames of the cooking stove before drizzling them in butter as she requested.

“Put the plate in your mouth and crawl over to me like a dog,” Laura commands airily.

Without so much as a murmur of complaint you obey, clamping the plate in your teeth and dropping to your hands and knees. You crawl over, careful not to spill the toast and present it to Laura, who takes it without thanking you.

You remain crouched by her side, abased like the trembling Samantha. Laura slowly munches through her toast, slurping her tea between mouthfuls. Disdainful of the crusts she casts them onto the floor and commands you to eat them, which you duly do.

“Take the belt from the cupboard and put it in my hand,” she says without bothering to look at you.

You crawl over to the cupboard and find the belt stuffed in a corner behind a soap box. You pick the belt up with your mouth and shuffle over to Laura, the buckle scraping the floor sharply as you crawl.

Laura takes the belt from your mouth. “Turn around, and press your cheek on the floor.”

You do so, revelling in your obedience. Placing your face upon the ground, your bottom sticks up widely above you, your skirt sliding back to reveal your knickerless buttocks.

“Pre-trained,” grunts Laura. “That’s what I like to see – I think you and I are going to get on just fine…”

Thwack!

You recoil, just slightly, as Laura, still sitting, lazily whips the belt across your buttocks, the metal buckle nipping your bum skin sharply.

Thwack! Thwack!

Your bum jumps, but you remain still and quiet as Laura beats you leisurely. Her blows are strong, but she has no animosity towards you, since you have been so obedient to her will. This beating is simply to re-enforce who is boss.

Thwack! Thwack!

If your Willpower is 4 or less, you cannot help but cry out at the stinging buckle, whose presence turns what would be a simple beating into an uncomfortable experience. Laura rewards you with a few more stokes as a suitable punishment. Raise your Bum Status by 1 Level.

The blows finally stop, just under a dozen. Your beating wasn’t hard, but you suspect Laura could have made it a lot harder. Raise your Bum Status by 1 Level.

“Good,” says Laura. “I’m glad to see you know your place.”

“Yes, Laura,” you murmur demurely.

Raise you Submission score by 1. Also gain 1 Fame point. Laura is impressed with you, and your perfect obedience will become a minor legend in the manor.

Now Turn to page 257.

Page 248

“Put the plate in your mouth and crawl over to me like a dog,” Laura commands airily.

“You … you want me to what?” you ask, amazed a fellow slave could ask such a thing.

“You heard – on your knees, bitch,” she spits.

Falteringly you move to obey, clamping the plate in your teeth and dropping to your hands and knees. You crawl over, careful not to spill the toast and present it to Laura, who takes it without thanking you.

You hesitate, not liking the prospect of eating something with another person’s saliva all over it.

“Are you deaf? Eat my crusts – whore,” she snarls.

Panicking, you quickly obey.

“Take the belt from the cupboard and put it in my hand,” she says without bothering to look at you.

Shuddering, you crawl over to the cupboard and find the belt stuffed in a corner behind a soap box. You pick the belt up in your hands and shuffle over to Laura.

Laura takes the belt from your hands. “Uppity slut. Turn around, and press your cheek on the floor.”

You do so, trembling in anticipation of your unfair beating. Placing your face upon the ground, your bottom sticks up widely above you, your skirt sliding back to reveal your knickerless buttocks.

“That took far too long,” snaps Laura. “In future you will obey all my commands without question – understood?”

“Yes, Laura,” you quail.

Thwack!

You recoil, just slightly, as Laura, still sitting, lazily whips the belt across your buttocks, the metal buckle nipping your bum skin sharply.

Thwack! Thwack!

Your bum jumps, but you remain still and quiet as Laura beats you leisurely. Her blows are strong, but she has no animosity towards you, since you have been obedient to her will. This beating is simply to re-enforce who is boss.

Thwack! Thwack!

The blows finally stop, after about two dozen strokes. Your beating wasn’t hard, but you suspect Laura could have made it a lot harder. Raise your Bum Status by 2 Level.

“Good,” says Laura. “I’m glad to see you know your place.”

“Yes, Laura,” you murmur demurely.

Raise you Submission score by 1.

Now Turn to page 257.

Page 249

You give Laura the cold shoulder, deciding this is the best way to deal with arrogant bitches like her.

Laura does not get cross, but sighs. “I see,” she says with resignation. “We have to do this the hard way. “Samantha, put this unruly whore over the table and pin her arms down.

“Yes Laura!” cries Samantha, springing to her feet … she is over six feet tall, and well built.

You cry out with indignation as Samantha springs upon you, hauling you across the kitchen table as if you were little more than a rag-doll.

If you have the Trait ‘Strong’ it will do you no good here. You’re not that strong!

Soon your arms are pinned in her tight grasp, and you lay stretched and vulnerable, your bottom jutting naked and knickerless beneath your tiny skirt.

Laura tuts. “Now I have to stand up to beat you, you awkward cow!”

Turn to page 253.

Page 250

Laura laughs at you. “Samantha does exactly as I say, don’t you Samantha?”

“Yes, Laura,” she replies miserably.

“Samantha knows that the mistresses will find out all about her little indiscretions if she disobeys, doesn’t she, Samantha?”

“Yes, Laura,” she repeats.

You look at Samantha carefully. The girl is huge, surely more than six feet tall if she was standing tall. What ghastly piece of blackmail does Laura have over her?

“But now, you’ve upset me,” smiles Laura. “So you’ve earned yourself a proper beating.”

You snarl at Laura. “As if you could, tiny! There’s no way you’re going to lay a hand on me!”

“Actually – you have two choices, to be fair,” explains Laura, her mocking smile still beaming at you. “First, you could refuse your beating – in which case I will order Samantha to hold you down and beat you anyway. Second, you could spare Samantha her blushes, climb onto the table on your hands and knees, and take what’s coming to you. Your choice, of course.”

Outrageous! But you can’t abandon your cleaning duty! Mistress Jessica would have your hide!

What will you choose: To defy Laura to the last? Turn to page 251.
To spare Samantha any further embarrassment and present yourself for a beating? Turn to page 252.

Page 251

Laura does not get cross, but sighs. “I see,” she says with resignation. “We have to do this the hard way. “Samantha, put this unruly whore over the table and fin her arms down.

“Yes Laura!” cries Samantha, springing to her feet … she is over six feet tall, and well built.

You cry out with indignation as Samantha springs upon you, hauling you across the kitchen table as if you were little more than a rag-doll.

If you have the Trait ‘Strong’ it will do you no good here. You’re not that strong!

Soon your arms are pinned in her tight grasp, and you lay stretched and vulnerable, your bottom jutting naked and knickerless beneath your tiny skirt.

Laura tuts. “Now I have to stand up to beat you, you awkward cow!”

Turn to page 253.

Page 252

You clench your fists – but you are trapped. Unless you want to suffer the indignity of being held down and beaten, you had best do this on your own terms.

“You’re a nasty old bully, Laura,” you say defiantly. “And Samantha doesn’t deserve to be treated this way.”

Add 1 to your Dignity for standing up to this notorious bully.

Samantha is silent, and hangs her head in shame, genuinely moved by your kindness towards her.

“Enough of your sanctimonious prattle – get your arse over the table, you’ve a thrashing coming, bitch!” yawps Laura.

Quietly fuming you walk to the table and bend over it, your short skirt riding over your knickerless backside as you do so.

“Samantha – hold her down,” commands Laura. “This whore is in for quite a ride.”

“Yes, Laura,” murmurs Samantha, who quickly springs to her feet to grasp your wrists, holding them down tightly.

You lie motionless over the table, naked bum raised defiantly before Laura.

“Normally I don’t bother to rise to issue a beating,” drawls Laura. “But for you – I’ll make an exception…”

Turn to page 253.

Page 253

“You’ve defied me – that means I’m going to have to break you in,” declares Laura, clutching an old belt in her hands which she has procured from a nearby cupboard. It seems implements of punishment are never far away in this house!

You pull experimentally against Samantha’s vice-like grip on your wrists, but you quickly realise the situation is hopeless. Laura is going to soundly beat you, and there is nothing you can do about it.

Will you: Squeal and beg pathetically as you are beaten, putting on a real show of suffering to massage the ego of the wicked Laura? Turn to page 254.
Remain as still and silent as you can, in an attempt to preserve your dignity? Turn to page 255.

Page 254

Thwack! Thwack!

You recoil, bum jumping, as Laura eagerly whips the belt across your buttocks, the metal buckle nipping your bum skin sharply.

Thwack! Thwack!

Your bum writhes, and you cry out at the firm strokes.

“Oh! Laura! Please! I’ll be good! I promise!” you grovel shamelessly as the belt lashes into your squirming buttocks.

If your Submission is less than 5, Laura sees through your ploy. “Tricky bitch!” she hisses at you. “I know you’re faking it! Obviously I’ll need to up my game to break you in!” Laura lashes you hard, two dozen more strokes than she intended at first – which soon converts your crocodile tears into real ones. Raise your Bum Status by 3 Levels.

Laura thrashes you with great aplomb – the metal buckle biting into your buttocks at random leaving you unable to prepare for your strokes. You howl and moan and beg, increasing Laura’s satisfaction tremendously.

If you have the weakness Weak Bladder, Turn to page 256.
Otherwise read on.

By the time she has finished with you, your backside is a rosy red, with numerous unpleasant blotches from the lashing buckle. You moan and sob, allowing Laura the total victory she craves. Raise your Bum Status by 3 Levels.

None the less, you feel you have won a small victory here. Your beating would probably have been longer and harder had you not played the ‘wimp card’.

“As you can see, I’m not a girl to cross,” sneers Laura, surveying your bruised bum cheeks with satisfaction. “So from now on you’ll accept that I’m in charge, right?”

“Yes, Laura!” you cry, through crocodile tears.

Turn to page 257.

Page 255

Thwack! Thwack!

You recoil, bum jumping, as Laura eagerly whips the belt across your buttocks, the metal buckle nipping your bum skin sharply.

Thwack! Thwack!

Your bum writhes with the unfamiliar belt, but you remain stoically silent.

“Playing the ‘silent game’ are we?” sneers Laura. “Fine, I can play. One whimper out of you and you get extra – that’ll be fun, won’t it?”

Thwack! Thwack!

Your bum blazes with fire as Laura thrashes you twice more, but you resolve to stay quiet regardless of the pain.

If your Willpower is less than 7 you cannot help but grunt during a particularly blistering blow that cut’s into your thigh backs. “Got you!” cries Laura. “You get everything again, you smart-aleck bitch!” Laura is true to her word, and lashes you dozens of times more, bruising your tender cheeks purple. Raise your Bum Status by 4 levels.

Laura thrashes you with great aplomb – the metal buckle biting into your buttocks at random leaving you unable to prepare for your strokes. None the less, you bite down onto your lip and entomb yourself in silence, denying Laura the pleasure of knowing you are totally broken.

If you have the weakness Weak Bladder, Turn to page 256.
Otherwise read on.

By the time she has finished with you, your backside is a rosy red, with numerous unpleasant blotches from the lashing buckle. Raise your Bum Status by 4 Levels.

None the less, you feel you have won a small victory here. Laura never had the satisfaction of knowing you were completely beaten.

“As you can see, I’m not a girl to cross,” sneers Laura, surveying your bruised bum cheeks with satisfaction. “So from now on you’ll accept that I’m in charge, right?”

“Yes, Laura,” you grunt, if only to escape her vile clutches.

Turn to page 257.

Page 256

Your beating goes on and on, your bum squirming and reddening. But at the same time an intolerable pressure is building up in your bladder…

“Laura!” you gasp. “Stop! Please! I really need the toilet!”

“Silence, bitch – you’ll take your medicine first!” hisses Laura.

Thwack! Thwack!

“Laura! I … I … it’s too late!”

Hiss! A great stream of your piss shoots out of you, soaking Laura’s feet. Laura shrieks in disgust, and even Samantha steps back in horror, releasing you from her grip.

“Sorry! Sorry! I’m so sorry!” you moan, distraught and humiliated, clutching between your legs as your bladder releases its whole contents.

“You filthy, filthy, bitch!” cries Laura, surveying her dripping shoes. “Don’t think I’m not going to tell everyone about this!”

You are utterly shamed – lose 2 Dignity points. On the other hand, the incident has interrupted your beating, and you only have to raise your Bum Status by 2 levels. Also, gain a fame point. It may not be your greatest moment, but the story will definitely have you being talked about!

Turn to page 257.

Page 257

In their dribs and drabs the rest of the cleaning staff arrive. There are dozens of them, all in identical black and white uniforms. You recognise many faces, including Linda, the girl who was made to lick up the puddles you made when you first arrived, and Gillian, who was bent over the knee of a guest when you went to visit the Master for the first time.

They all seem to defer to Laura as they enter, some going as far as bowing, or even grovelling at her feet. You wonder what gives the tiny girl such power over them, and rub your bottom ruefully as you remember your own treatment from her.

“Right – you lazy cows,” she intones. “Lots of work to do today. You all know your rotas – but this new girl is taking over from Gina, who has been demoted to guest cockslave. Don’t bother saying hello to her – you’re bound to bump into her during your duties. Go on, then – get to it!”

Laura turns to you as the other cleaning slaves miserably begin to file out. “I’m assigned to Hall duty – which means, new girl, you’re assigned to Hall duty. Make sure the whole hall floor is sparkling clean. Everything you need will be in the supply cupboard by the coat stand. Now get moving!”

You decide against making a fuss, having been beaten enough for one morning. Clearly Laura can’t be overthrown quickly or rashly – if overthrowing her is even the right course of action.

“Yes, Laura,” you say, bobbing, and quickly make your way off to the hall.

It feels odd to be back where it all started, the grand entrance hall you staggered into, sloshing wet, all those months ago when you first arrived. More daunting still is the scale of the task – the enormous hall will clearly take you all morning and afternoon to finish. None the less, the thought of causing any embarrassment to the Master through laziness seems abhorrent to you now, so you quickly set about your task.

You hit a snag right away. The storage cupboard is locked – and Laura clearly didn’t give you the key. You despair momentarily, but then spot that you are not alone in the hall. The tall, snooty steward who escorted you to the Master, stands on duty – a bunch of keys dangling from his waist.

Will you: Ask the steward politely for the keys? Turn to page 258.
Try to steal the keys from him? Turn to page 261.
Try to force the lock on the door, as quietly as you can? Turn to page 263.

Page 258

The steward looks upon you contemptuously, and addresses you with a clipped accent. “A cleaning slave has to earn the key to the storage cupboard from me. I’m surprised Laura didn’t say.”

The steward taps his crotch none too subtly, to give you a clue as to the price. Outrageous!

Will you? Submit to his demand and give him a blow job? Turn to page 259.
Try to force the lock on the door instead? Turn to page 263.

Page 259

Dropping to your knees, sliding your hands down the stewards waist as you go, you carefully unzip the stewards trousers with your mouth, and nuzzle deep into his crotch. A tug with your teeth is enough to produce his cock from his pants, which you warmly engorge with your tongue, much to the evident delight of the steward.

If your Submission score is 6 or more Turn to page 260.
If not, read on.

With a steady, albeit workmanlike effort, you bob your head up and down to slide his cock in and out of your mouth, finishing him off with a bit of vigorous hand work. His thick come, bereft of the sweet purity of the Master’s, splashes into and around your mouth, which you lap up good naturedly to save him any cleaning duties himself.

The steward sighs. “Hardly as good as Gina’s, but sufficient I suppose…”

He drops the key on the floor for you to scrabble and pick up. “Don’t worry – I’ll make sure you get plenty of practice…”

The nerve of the man! Lose 1 Dignity and 1 Ambition point for this stinging, backhanded comment.

Nonetheless, the key is yours, and you swiftly use it to unlock the cupboard.

Turn to page 265.

Page 260

With sublime skill you engorge the stewards throbbing cock deep into the back of your throat and generously throat fuck him. The steward has to grip onto a nearby lamp for support, his knees weakening from the waves of pleasure you inflict upon his moderate member. Like an artist, you refuse to use your hands, controlling his pleasure entirely through your tongue and throat, until he virtually explodes in your mouth. The steward moans and collapses in pleasured exhaustion.

“That was … very good…” he babbles in understatement. “Take the key – it’s the grey one with the long neck…”

He throws the key bunch at you. You remove the storage key, but notice a rather nice glittering, golden key on the ring as well. The steward seems rather out of it … if you wish to take the golden key, note the codeword GOLD. (You’ll put the key in a safe hiding place rather than keep it on your person).

Gain 1 Dignity to besting the arrogant steward.

Now Turn to page 265.

Page 261

It’s just you and him in the hall, so you need a distraction. You bump into the steward, swiping the keys whilst brushing his shoulder.

“Oh! I am sorry sir!” you cry. “Only you had a bit of fluff on your shoulder, and I hoped to save you any embarrassment.

If you have the trait ‘Blonde’, or a Dignity score of 7, Turn to page 262.
If not, read on.

“A likely story,” he cries, pulling your concealed arm from behind your back. “Ah ha! A thief!”

“Please, sir,” you beg. “I was only trying to unlock the storage cupboard!”

“For that, you have to ask!” he snarls, red faced. “In your case, a dose of two dozen with my punishment rod should suffice!”

You are caught red handed, and have little choice but to obey. Made to bend over and touch toes like a disobedient schoolgirl, the steward cracks his heavy punishment rod across your proffered buttocks with vigour and relish.

Crack! Crack!

If you have a Willpower of 3 or less, the beating is too much for you and you jump up, clutching your bruising buttocks in agony. The steward is delighted to follow house protocol, and award you an extra dozen strokes. Raise your Bum Status by 1 level.

By the time he has finished, your bum cheeks are red and swollen. Raise your Bum Status by 3 levels.

With your punishment over, the steward marches you over to the storage cupboard and unlocks it for you.

“Next time – try asking!” he snaps, before striding back to his post.

Turn to page 265.

Page 262

The steward blushes at your smile, quite intoxicated with you. “Why, thank you,” he says red-faced. “So pleasant to have a well brought up girl on the staff these days. I best not keep you, I suppose…”

“Thank you, sir,” you bob, backing away with a coy smile.

Once at the door you rifle through the keys. You find the storage key easily enough – but you also come across a brilliant gold key. Suspecting it might be valuable in the future, you remove it from the key ring and hide it. (You will store the key in a secret hiding place in the manor, that way you will not lose it if your possessions are taken away).

You unlock the storage cupboard and step inside. Turn to page 265.

Page 263

You’re not exactly a skilled locksmith, but the door looks fragile enough to give in with a good shove.

If you have the trait ‘Strong’ Turn to page 264.
Otherwise read on.

Alas, you cannot budge the door any more forcefully – not with the steward watching at any rate. You will have to try something else.

Will you: Ask the steward politely for the keys? Turn to page 258.
Try to steal the keys from him? Turn to page 261.

Page 264

With only a small grunt you heave the lock off its catch, and the door swings open. Grinning smugly, you step inside.

Turn to page 265.

Page 265

The cleaning cupboard is stacked full of mops and buckets and various polishes. Consulting the timetable on the door, you can see that the hall is only due to be mopped today, rather than mopped and polished – sparing you the exhausting trouble of going over the massive hall twice.

Using the tap in the cupboard, you fill up a bucket, grab a mop and get to work.

Throughout the day various guests arrive, warmly greeted by the steward. Tudor couples follow suited businessmen, cavaliers mix with roundheads – the variety is astonishing. You keep out of the way, eager not to be the first attraction of the guests’ lusts.

Whilst the steward is escorting a group of guests to their quarters, the doorbell rings. There is no one to answer it but you.

Will you: Answer the doorbell? Turn to page 266.
Carry on mopping and ignore it? Turn to page 269.

Page 266

Leaving your mop in the bucket, you open the grand doors to see the sight of a young, rather nervous looking woman, in her early twenties. She is quite beautiful, but is dressed rather boyishly, in old fashioned tweeds and cap. She has a large camera with a massive flash attached to the top. She is clearly a traveller lost in time, perhaps from the nineteen thirties.

“Excuse me, miss,” she chirps in a jolly way. “I’m Natalie. I was wondering if I might take a few shots of this lovely manor? I work for the Sussex Chronicler, you see, and we’re doing a special on stately homes. I have to admit – I’m terribly lost, not sure what path I took to get here…”

Your heart stops in your mouth. She is a wanderer, like you were. She has staggered alone into the manor, unaware that she is soon to become the plaything of the almighty Master.

Will you: Tell the girl to run, as fast as she can, away from the manor? Turn to page 267.
Invite her in, send her to the kitchens to begin her enslavement? Turn to page 268.

Page 267

You lean forward and whisper into Natalie’s ear. “Run! Run as far away as you can from this place! Lone girls are enslaved by the Master! If you stay, you’ll lose your freedom, and be thrashed into eternal obedience. Run while you can!”

The woman looks startled. “You’re a slave … well … come with me! We’ll call the police and…”

A terrible shiver runs down you at the very thought. “I can’t leave the Master!” you cry, horrified. “I’ve sworn to serve him forever – but you … you can still be free! Oh! Please run! Please!”

“Right-o,” she says, backing away, “I’m always up for an adventure, but you lot seem a bit weird to me…”

At that she turns and runs down the path, the iron gates of the manor closing behind her.

In some ways you feel glad for her … but you are stabbed with guilt. In a small way you have betrayed the Master by depriving him of another girl to serve him. Lose 2 Submission points.

Now Turn to page 275.

Page 268

You smile wickedly. “Of course, miss,” you curtsy, allowing the young lady in. “But you’ll have to get permission from the Master – he’s in charge of everything around here.”

“Right-o!” she beams. “Can I see him now? I’d like to take shots in the daylight if I can…”

“He’ll send for you, miss,” you assure her. “Have you been wandering long? I bet you’re hungry. Why don’t you go down and see Mrs. Kent, the chef? She can fix you up with something while you wait.”

“Super!” she cries, delighted. “Look after this for me, will you? If there’s any steam down in the kitchens it could damage the film.”

Natalie thrusts her camera into your hands, which you accept with a smile. She won’t be needing it where she’s going!

“Second door to the left,” you tell her slyly. “Enjoy your stay, won’t you?”

“Certainly will!” she gushes. “Thanks! Bye!”

You watch as Natalie boldly opens the kitchen door and walks down the stairwell to her doom. If you have the trait ‘Sadistic’ you can add one to any attribute as you imagine the welcoming thrashing she is about to receive.

Now Turn to page 275.

Page 269

The doorbell rings several times, but you resolutely ignore it, mopping away as if you haven’t heard anything. Soon the steward returns, stepping quickly across the hall in a foul mood.

“Are you deaf?” he snaps. “Why didn’t you answer the door?”

“I didn’t think it was my place, sir,” you answer sharply.

“Your place…?” he splutters. “Turn around, with your arse facing the door, bend over and touch your toes. I’ll deal with you presently!”

You sigh. The steward, of course, greatly outranks you – and you are well trained enough not to disobey a direct order. You spin around in a huff, and quickly bend to touch toes, realising that this means your beaten bottom (and other parts) will be facing the door for the delight of the guests.

From your upside down position you watch as the steward opens the door to see the sight of a young, rather nervous looking woman, in her early twenties. She is quite beautiful, but is dressed rather boyishly, in old fashioned tweeds and cap. She has a large camera with a massive flash attached to the top. She is clearly a traveller lost in time, perhaps from the nineteen thirties.

“Excuse me, sir,” she chirps in a jolly way. “I’m Natalie. I was wondering if I might take a few shots of this lovely manor? I work for the Sussex Chronicler, you see, and we’re doing a special on stately homes. I have to admit – I’m terribly lost, not sure what path I took to get here…”

Your heart stops in your mouth. She is a wanderer, like you were. She has staggered alone into the manor, unaware that she is soon to become the plaything of the almighty Master.

Her speech ends as she spots you, bent over, beaten bum thrust into the air to await further punishment. She gasps.

The steward clears his throat. “A domestic matter, miss,” he intones. “The Master insists on tight discipline in the household. You have this young lady to thank for being kept waiting at the door. If I may beg your indulgence, I need to see to her correction immediately. Feel free to observe, a public beating might erode this wenches’ arrogance.”

“I … I see – of course, umm, carry on,” blathers Natalie, intrigued.

She follows the steward into the house, who shuts the doors behind her, forever sealing her fate. The steward strides towards your defenceless cheeks, the terrible clack of his polished shoes echoing through the hall, accompanied by the shuffling footsteps of the intrigued Natalie.

“How many is she to receive?” she asks.

“A sharp three dozen,” he states plainly. “Dereliction of duty. She’ll be quite sore by the time I’m finished.”

The steward taps his rod sharply against your stretched bum cheeks. Instinctively, you raise your buttocks higher to receive the first stroke.

Crack!

You try to stifle a grunt, as the stewards heavy punishment rod strikes your cheeks. Natalie watches entranced as a long, red bar of pain crosses the centre of your backside.

“Gosh!” she says.

Crack! Crack!

The steward begins his rhythmic beating of your backside. His strokes are powerful and regular – he seems keen to impress upon Natalie his skills as a whipper, and to try to make your bum dance under his strokes. If you wish you may give in to his desires, by hollering out and sniffling every few strokes. If you do you can add one to your Submission, but deduct one from your Dignity.

Crack! Crack! Crack!

“My goodness!” cries Natalie as she watches your bottom beaten red. Instinctively she hoists the camera up to her eyes and takes a shot, the flash filling the room with light as she captures the sight of you whipped bottom for all posterity.

If your Willpower is less than 6, the steward’s cruel beating is too much for you. You yelp and grasp your flaming bum cheeks, breaking pose to cry out in pain. “Can she do that? What happens now?” hisses Natalie, enchanted. “She takes an extra dozen,” replies the steward coldly, and, bending you back over to grasp your ankles, delivers the additional dozen sharply. Raise you Bum Status by 2 Levels.

Crack! Crack!

After two dozen strokes your Bum cheeks are flaming hot, and you whimper at each stroke. Raise your Bum Status by 4 levels.

The steward pauses his beating momentarily to wipe his brow. “It’s heavy work,” he confesses, “but rewarding. I dare say this young maid won’t be disobedient for several days after this.”

“She seems very tired,” ponders Natalie. “Perhaps she’s had enough?”

“I dare say she has – but three dozen has been decreed,” explains the steward. “Keeping a guest waiting, even a photographer, is bad form.”

Natalie swallows, her eyes fixed on your clenching, reddened cheeks. “I didn’t mind – don’t beat her another dozen for my sake.”

“I’m sorry, miss,” explains the steward ruefully. “But the only way a punishment is ever shortened is if … someone else volunteers to take it in their place.”

The steward looks meaningfully at Natalie, who blushes.

“Well … umm … I wouldn’t want the girl to suffer unnecessarily on my behalf,” she stammers. “But you are rather fierce … I’m not sure I could take it like her.”

The steward taps his foot. “Kindly make your decision – I don’t want the maid’s buttocks going cold.”

Natalie swallows and addresses you. “What do you think, girlie? Want me to save your arse?”

What do you do? Accept her offer? Turn to page 270.
Blush and look away? Turn to page 273.
Refuse her offer? Turn to page 274.

Page 270

The steward raises an eyebrow. “So be it. Cleaning maid, back on your feet and observe. And you, miss, I’ll have to ask you to turn around, lower your trousers, and assume the same position as the maid was in.”

You get to your feet as instructed, your skirt folding over your burning backside. Natalie shuffles nervously. “I say … does it have to be trousers down? Only I barely know you, and the exhibition that girl was making of herself rather…”

“It must be the same position and same rules,” says the steward firmly. “Now kindly adopt the position, or the maid will have to start her beating from scratch!”

“Oh dear – we’ll we don’t want that, do we?” says Natalie. She turns away and fiddles with the belt of her trousers, allowing them to drop to the floor, revealing her shapely bottom clad in florid, white knickers. “These down as well, I suppose?” asks Natalie rhetorically, before slipping the garment down her legs and bending tightly to touch her toes.

Her backside and pudenda now revealed in her stretched position, the steward steps behind and beside her, measuring his heavy punishment rod against her backside. She shivers, her buttocks clenching in fear.

“I say … you won’t beat me quite as hard as you did the maid, will you?” trembles Natalie.

“As hard and as many,” growls the steward, raising the rod. “But it is too late to back out now.”

“Yes,” she whimpers. “I rather think it is…”

Crack!

You jump as you watch the steward, with the grace of an orchestral conductor, whip his punishment rod deep into the cheeks of Natalie’s generous buttocks. She squeaks in shock and jolts, her fingers still just scraping her toes.

Crack!

“Ugh!” grunts Natalie, clenching her fists, as another stroke embeds itself into her wobbling bottom, a bright crimson line flaring up from the impact. “Oh, sir! How can you treat a girl so callously…?”

Crack!

“Ah!”

“My duty to the Master demands I show no favouritism – you shall learn that a promise given in this house leads to strict consequences…”

Crack!

Natalie writhes and jolts under her beating, moaning and crying out at each powerful stroke. But, having given her word, she refuses to budge from her assigned position, receiving twelve strokes of the very best from the professional steward. You are relieved. If Natalie should break you would have to take the whole beating again.

At the twelfth stroke Natalie gives a cry, pain mixed with victory, her bottom a criss-cross of thick, red welts, taken on your behalf.

If you have the trait ‘Sadistic’ you may add one to any attribute as you drink in Natalie’s suffering.

Natalie moves to rise, but the steward clears his throat. “Excuse me, madam,” he says, firmly pushing Natalie back over with his punishment rod, “you have not yet taken your full tally.”

Natalie chokes. “But … but I counted them, twelve terrible strokes – I felt every one!”

“The maid was sentenced to three dozen, not one,” corrects the steward. “Therefore, three dozen it shall be for you.”

“But she already took two dozen, or more!” cries Natalie. “That surely only leaves…”

“Alas, madam, would it were so,” consoles the steward, stroking his punishment rod over Natalie’s scalding cheeks. “But the Master’s rules are clear. It is to prevent any unseemly cheating amongst the slaves who might seek to, how shall we say, divvy the strokes up between each other.”

“Slaves?” whimpers Natalie.

“The reason why you came – deep in your heart. You now serve the Master and his servants. Consider this your first official beating. But we have chatted enough, I think…”

At this the steward recommences his stern whipping, Natalie, confused yet yielding, whimpering under every stroke.

What do you do? Beg the steward to stop, and offer to take Natalie’s whipping in her place? Turn to page 271.
Silently observe her punishment? Turn to page 272.

Page 271

“Sir! Oh, please, enough!” you cry, stepping into the steward’s vision. “Please, cease whipping this poor new girl. I will take the strokes again in her place.”

The steward laughs, his punishment rod pausing mid-stroke above Natalie’s cringing bum. “So! Three dozen becomes nine dozen! I have earned my wage from the Master today, indeed! Very well, cleaning maid, assume the position again. We start from the first stroke!”

“Yes sir,” you murmur in fear.

Add one Submission point.

“As for you, Natalie,” sneers the steward. “You shall stand up and observe, hands on your head. I forbid you to touch your buttocks on pain of further punishment.”

“Yes … yes, sir,” snivels Natalie, tottering unsteadily onto her feet to stand half naked in the wide hall, hands grasped to her sweat drenched locks.

Your beating is long and tortuous. The steward does his best to overcome his tired arm, and beats you a full three dozen to your whip-stroked bum without pause or mercy. You sob through your strokes, but abandon yourself to them, eager to spare the Master’s new slave any further agony.

By the time the steward has done your bottom is well basted. Raise your Bum Status by 5 levels.

Finally done with you, the steward allows you to rest, crouching on all fours, your beaten arse high in the air for the enjoyment of any passing guests. Turning to the penitent Natalie he barks: “Come, slave – time to begin your labours for the Master. Mrs. Kent, the chef, shall no doubt have a warm welcome for you…”

With that you watch as Natalie is escorted from the hall, still shuffling with knickers around her ankles and hands on head, to begin her eternal service for the Master.

This triple beating shall soon become a famous story amongst the guests (the steward is not known for being tight lipped). Gain 1 Fame Point.

Now Turn to page 275.

Page 272

Crack! Crack! Crack!

The steward beats the sobbing girl until she is totally broken. At the thirty-sixth stroke Natalie collapses onto her hands and knees, weeping heartily, her buttocks aflame with welts.

If you have the trait ‘Sadistic’, add one to any Attribute.

The steward turns to you. “Looks like it’s your lucky day, cleaning maid – get back to work!”

“Yes, sir!” you bark, happy to have gotten away with as little suffering as you did.

“As for you, you cringing, worthless slave,” the steward addresses Natalie. “You may remain on your hands and knees and crawl behind me. It is time to begin your labours for the Master. Mrs. Kent, the chef, shall no doubt have a warm welcome for you…”

With that you watch as Natalie is escorted from the hall to begin her eternal service for the Master.

Now Turn to page 275.

Page 273

What an impossible decision. Of course you want to end your beating, but can you allow this naive girl to be punished in your stead? Your silence provokes an answer from her.

“Alright, I will,” she says, a slight twinkle in her eye.

Turn to page 270.

Page 274

“No, miss – it’s alright,” you assure her. “The steward is right to punish me – I’ve been terribly bad.”

Natalie looks a trifle disappointed. “Oh – I see. Very well, I suppose you had better finish her off, so to speak.”

“This is my duty,” agrees the steward, measuring his accursed punishment rod against your blazing cheeks. “And my pleasure…”

Crack! Crack!

Your suffering begins anew, and you cannot help but cry out as new welts are blistered into your backside.

If your Willpower is less than 7, you cannot help but jump up at one particularly bracing stroke to your lower buttocks. The steward grins at his cunning, and awards you a further twelve for breaking poise, Natalie watching mesmerised as your bum clenches and your knees buckle. Raise your Bum Status by 1 level.

Crack! A final stroke, landing in the join between your buttocks and thigh backs, makes you shriek in despair – highlighting the persistent throb in your beaten buttocks. Raise your Bum Status by 2 Levels.

“Gosh! Didn’t she take that well!” enthuses Natalie.

“So – so,” says the steward meanly. “Back on your feet you lazy ragamuffin! And get mopping, this hall won’t clean itself.”

“Yes, sir!” you squeak, hopping back to your feet to the safety of your bucket and mop.

The steward turns to Natalie. “You are, doubtless, tired from your long wanderings. I shall inform the Master of your presence. In the mean time, why don’t you visit the kitchens? Mrs. Kent, our chef, shall no doubt give you a warm reception.”

“That’s very kind,” smiles Natalie. “And thank you for showing me your handywork. I can only imagine what it must feel like!”

The steward smiles. “Second door on the left, madam.”

With that you watch as Natalie is walks to the kitchen door, not knowing she is about to begin her eternal service for the Master.

Now Turn to page 275.

Page 275

It has been a long and exhausting day, but finally the hall’s marble floor is gleaming to the steward’s satisfaction. Securing away your mop and bucket you head for the cleaner’s kitchen for some much needed sustenance.

You join several other cleaning slaves, likewise tired from their long labours. As they enter the kitchen they salute the lazy Laura, who once again is lolling back in her chair, drinking tea. You can see another slave, Linda, standing in the corner, hands on her head, displaying her beaten buttocks – more evidence of Laura’s cruel bullying.

It is your turn to pay obeisance to Laura. What will you do? Nod your head respectfully? Turn to page 276.
Curtsy deeply? Turn to page 277.
Grovel shamelessly at her feet? Turn to page 278.

Page 276

If your Ambition is less than 8, Laura takes offence at your minor salutation. “Over the table, you over-familiar slut,” she barks, licking her lips. Realising it is fruitless to disobey with so many of Laura’s allies in the room, your ruefully bend over the table and bare your buttocks, which Laura lashes with her belt, not bothering to rise. Raise your Bum Status by 1 Level.

You hungrily wolf down your food, exhaustion making it hard to keep your eyes open. Once refreshed, you stagger to your tiny room and fall into a deep sleep.

Turn to page 279.

Page 277

Laura accepts your curtsy as acceptable, and waves her hand to dismiss you.

You hungrily wolf down your food, exhaustion making it hard to keep your eyes open. Once refreshed, you stagger to your tiny room and fall into a deep sleep.

Turn to page 279.

Page 278

Falling to your hands and knees, you kiss Laura’s feet and thank her for giving you your duties.

“You’re an odious little worm, aren’t you?” laughs Laura derisively. “You’re going to fit in just fine here.”

Raise your Submission by 1 point.

Once Laura gives you permission, you hungrily wolf down your food, exhaustion making it hard to keep your eyes open. Now refreshed, you stagger to your tiny room and fall into a deep sleep.

Turn to page 279.

Page 279

Morning comes around too soon for your liking, but even your hard bed couldn’t stop you from getting a reasonable night’s sleep. Lower your Bum Status by 2 Levels.

“You’re on guest rooms today, new bitch,” says Laura airily, as you stagger into the kitchen for assignment. “I should warn you, a lot of the guests get rather fruity with the cleaning staff. Keep your head down and stay obedient if you don’t want a glowing arse by sundown. Five minutes for breakfast then get moving!”

Fortunately many of the guest rooms are empty – their occupants enjoying themselves elsewhere in the manor. In the ones that are occupied you are mostly ignored – with only the odd swat across the backside to encourage your speed. Nothing you can’t handle.

One room contains a familiar figure. It is Mr. Sullivan, the guest you saw spanking Gillian on your first visit to the Master. The grand old Victorian peeps over his paper at you.

If you have the codeword VICTORY, Turn to page 280.
If you have the codeword LOSER, Turn to page 282.
If you have the codeword HEADS, Turn to page 283.
If you have the codeword TAILS, Turn to page 286.

If not, read on.

Mr. Sullivan doesn’t recognise you – or at least doesn’t seem too bothered by your presence, so you get on with your cleaning.

Everything goes reasonably well according to plan until you start to dust around a rather fragile and ancient looking vase. Do you have the weakness ‘Clumsy’? If so, Turn to page 305.
If not, read on.

You are unsure if it’s wise, but you could get Mr. Sullivan’s attention by deliberately knocking the vase over. You’re not sure why the idea appeals, but it is hard to get out of your head.

Will you? Smash the vase, making it look like an accident? Turn to page 305.
Leave it well alone? Turn to page 312.

Page 280

“Ah! My dear young friend!” cries Mr. Sullivan in joy. He seems genuinely delighted to see you. “We never did get a chance to celebrate at the party! Come, come have a drink with me! Forget about the dusting, it’s done every day – I barely notice it! Come, share a drink, I insist!”

Seeing as he is a guest, you are hardly in a position to refuse. You join Mr. Sullivan in a glass of wine, and reminisce on your former glories.

“To victory!” roars Mr. Sullivan.

“To victory!” you cry back, clanking your glass with his.

The hours pass by, and plenty more wine is drunk, Mr. Sullivan telling you all about his new racing ponies and the trials and tribulations of getting them up to speed. You smile and laugh good naturedly – perhaps a little loudly. All the wine is making you heady.

“I miss you,” says Mr. Sullivan flatly. “Don’t you ever miss the stables?”

“It was … very tough, sir – you didn’t go easy on me,” you say diplomatically.

“But think – look what you are now, some measly cleaning wench. Think what you could be! My prize winning mare! My steed for all time! Think of the glory! The honour! Forget the Master – work for me, let me ride you again!”

The wine and the force of his personality are wearing you down.

If your Willpower is 5 or more, you refuse. Turn to page 281.
If not, you feel compelled to accept, and shake hands on the deal. Turn to page 164.

Page 281

“I’m sorry, sir,” you say, casting you eyes down. “But I’m just not ready for that. If you wish to beat me for my defiance, I understand…”

Mr. Sullivan laughs. “Beat you? Nonsense! I’ll not lash a mare that isn’t mine. But know that I’ll never give up on you, girly. You’ll always be my pony. One day, you’ll come to realise it.”

After one more glass Mr. Sullivan dismisses you, tipsy, but intact. Turn to page 313.

Page 282

Mr. Sullivan laughs as he sees you. “So – my old pony. You’re a cleaning slut now? Best place for you, on your knees, scrubbing. I’m not a man who forgives easily, so you can just crawl over here and lay across my lap. Oh – bring the slipper in your mouth whilst you’re at it. And be thankful I don’t cane you – although I’m certain you seemed to relish the lashings I gave you.”

If you have the trait ‘Lust for the Cane’, Turn to page 287.
If not, read on.

You shudder, but you realise that Mr. Sullivan is far too powerful a man to oppose. Grabbing one of his discarded slippers between your teeth, you crawl over to him miserably, sliding over his proffered lap to offer your vulnerable backside to his tender mercies.

Mr. Sullivan takes the slipper from your mouth. “I trusted you, girl – and you made me look a fool. Now you’ll realise the folly of your incompetence.”

At that he begins to crack the slipper across your backside, hard and rhythmically. Mr. Sullivan beats you continuously, for what feels like an hour, blistering your bum with stroke after stroke. It is not a case of you taking your beating with any discipline. You kick and cry out frequently throughout your punishment, but Mr. Sullivan is strong, and holds your head down forcefully, locking your legs down under his own.

It is a humiliating and painful spanking. Raise your Bum Status by 3 Levels and lose 2 Submission points.

Finally he releases you to clean, which you do, sniffling and sobbing from the tremendous heat in your backside. When you are finished, you quietly slip out of the room.

Turn to page 313.

Page 283

“Oh! It’s my fierce little martinet!” cries Mr. Sullivan, apparently delighted. “Damn good lasher you are, madam – never been afraid to deny it. Often thought about getting my revenge upon you – but being such a good sportsman I can’t just thrash you, can I?”

He leaves the question open. It’s obvious what he wants.

Will you? Suggest that you have been a bad girl, and that you’d be obliged to him if he would take you in hand? Turn to page 284.
Reply sadly that ‘rules are rules’ and that you must both abide by them? Turn to page 285.

Page 284

“Think you’re absolutely bloody right!” enthuses Mr. Sullivan. “Come on then, you saucy minx, over my knee! A good, hard spanking should cure you of your naughtiness, I’ll bet!”

“Yes, sir!” you smile, elegantly placing yourself over his knee, your backside blooming into view as you slide across his lap.

Ever the man of affairs, Mr. Sullivan gives you a firm, albeit jolly, hand spanking, that has your bum jumping in complaint for over an hour. None the less, the spanking is good humoured rather than cruel, and Mr. Sullivan gives you frequent breaks, during which he feeds you wine and biscuits to get back your strength.

By the end of your spanking your bum is quite sore, but relatively undamaged. Raise your Bum Status by 1 Level.

“Go on then, missy – off you go,” grins Mr. Sullivan, helping you off his lap. “Don’t worry about the cleaning, the place gets done every day, you’d need a microscope to find the dust!”

You thank Mr. Sullivan, and quickly depart, rubbing your sore bum as you go.

Turn to page 313.

Page 285

“Well – I suppose,” he muses. “But don’t think I won’t be watching you dust with a hawk eye! Miss so much as a speck and it will be a disaster for your bum. Just saying.”

You curtsy, and quickly turn to your dusting. Everything goes reasonably well according to plan until you start to dust around a rather fragile and ancient looking vase. Do you have the weakness ‘Clumsy’? If so, Turn to page 306.
If not, read on.

You are unsure if it’s wise, but you could get Mr. Sullivan’s attention by deliberately knocking the vase over. You’re not sure why the idea appeals, but it is hard to get out of your head.

Will you? Smash the vase, making it look like an accident? Turn to page 306.
Leave it well alone? Turn to page 312.

Page 286

“Why if it’s not that knock-kneed, lily-buttocked excuse for a caner!” cries Mr. Sullivan in joy. “Come back for some more, have you girl? The sting of the cane you’re kind of thing, am I right?”

If you have the trait ‘Lust for the Cane’, Turn to page 287.
If not read on.

Will you? Politely ask Mr. Sullivan to cane you? Turn to page 307.
Beg Mr. Sullivan to show you mercy? Turn to page 309.

Page 287

To have your fetish put so clearly before you causes tears to well up in your eyes. You drop to your knees and kiss his feet. “Oh! Sir! Please! Please cane me! Cane me hard, so I can’t sit down without thinking of your heavenly lashing! I need it so!”

Mr. Sullivan doesn’t look phased, and instead smiles beatifically. “I understand,” he says reassuringly, stroking his hand through your hair. “And don’t worry – I’ll thrash you to your limit, and beyond. And I’ll tell tales of brutal strokes you took, and of your weeping and moaning, so that everyone in the house knows of this moment. But you’ll have to be strong – for the first half of your caning you must endure what I give you without any restraints. If you fail, your beating shall end, and I’ll make sure that all know of your failure – especially the Master.”

You tremble at his name. “Oh, sir! Don’t say such a thing! I couldn’t disappoint the Master!”

“And yet I will tell him exactly what goes on here today, sparing no detail. Whether that tale is one of heroic endurance, or a sordid tale of you scrambling from the room, clutching your arse in defeat, will be up to you.”

Blackmail! And yet it isn’t, because somehow, this is exactly what you’ve always wanted – dreamed of. You know you can expect Mr. Sullivan to be completely ruthless, and that thought alone is enough to send you to the point of delirium.

“This is a special moment – so you must be naked for it,” says Mr. Sullivan reverently. “I too must change out of my dressing gown. It’s hardly appropriate for this event. Prepare yourself, and then stand facing the door, legs two feet apart, hands on your head. You may not move during any part of your punishment without my express permission.”

“Yes, sir! And thank you, sir!” you say keenly, tears in your eyes, though whether from gratefulness of nerves you cannot be sure.

The moment Mr. Sullivan has departed from the room you dash to the toilet to empty yourself, so that nothing can ruin the special moment he has planned. It would, of course, be the ideal time to run – but his threat to tell the Master is almost certainly a real one, and for him to hear of your failure is something you cannot endure!

You swiftly strip your maid’s clothes off, feeling acutely vulnerable as the final scraps of your clothing are discarded. Now it will just be your naked body and the cane. Surely an impossible contest? You wonder how many strokes you will take before Mr. Sullivan breaks you…

You stand, naked and spread, just as Mr. Sullivan demanded, trembling in anticipation. In front of you is the door and way out. It will be a continuous temptation throughout your suffering – but you are determined to ignore it. Instead you focus your eyes upon the clock just above the door, the heavy ticks of which sound like the harbinger’s of your oncoming doom. Indeed, Mr. Sullivan keeps you in position for a full fifteen minutes before eventually emerging from his bedroom.

You cannot see him, but you hear him strike a match, and flinch. Soon, the smell of pipeweed drifts over to your sensitive nostrils. Evidently, he intends to smoke his pipe whilst beating you.

After examining your taut, naked frame for a minute, he strolls in a leisurely fashion over towards you and into your line of sight. He is wearing his best tweeds, a grand old pipe stuck between his lips, and carries in his hands a cane and a small clock.

The clock he places on the floor, about a foot in front of you. The cane he positions just an inch from your face, and flexes menacingly, the warm brown wood creaking slightly as it is bent.

“It is always a special thing,” he intones, slowly stepping behind you, “when a girl realises her needs. The moment is made more special when she meets a man who will meet or exceed them. I am such a man. I’m sure you realise that you will not win this contest, yes?”

You swallow. “Yes, Mr. Sullivan.”

“That’s good,” he nods, “it saves us from having to keep to the illusion of fairness, which in unnecessary here. Let me explain the rules, then.”

Mr. Sullivan takes a long draw on his pipe before continuing. “You shall be caned eight dozen, in sets of a dozen, with each stroke on the fifteen seconds. The first four dozen you must bear without restraints, and with the full, normal caning rules in place. That is to say, no breaking position or touching of your bottom allowed. If you exit the room at any time you will have failed, and the Master shall be informed accordingly.”

“For the second four dozen you shall be restrained. Tied down over my punishment bar, and gagged to prevent unseemly screaming. However, I will not cane you exactly four dozen – but rather a few under or over that amount. At the end of your punishment I shall ungag you and ask you how many strokes you have taken whilst bound. You shall inform me of the number. If you are right, you will have won. If not you shall receive a number of punishment strokes – at least a dozen, but perhaps more. You shall then offer me a revised total, including any punishment strokes earned. This process shall continue until either you have guessed the right number, or, instead of offering a number, you concede defeat – at which point the Master shall be informed of your failure.”

“Do you understand these rules?”

You breathe in and swallow. “Yes, sir,” you reply, nerves weakening your voice.

“So be it,” nods Mr. Sullivan. “It is now three minutes to eleven. We shall start at precisely eleven o’clock.”

And so there you stand, trembling naked before the wicked Mr. Sullivan, who intends to beat you to tears, slowly – and make a game of it too. Terrible doubt begins to settle in your stomach. Perhaps you should flee? Your shame would be great – but your bottom spared. Who knows how much reserve it would take to endure Mr. Sullivan’s cruel whipping?

Will you? Bolt from the room, swinging open the door and running until you are far, far away? Turn to page 288.
Suggest the rules be changed to give you a fairer chance? Turn to page 289.
Or resign yourself to your fate, and play by Mr. Sullivan’s impossible rules? Turn to page 290.

Page 288

The tension is too much. With a sudden lurch you wrench the door open and run, quite naked, down the hallway and away from Mr. Sullivan and his nasty cane. The guests simply smile, the sight of a naked slave fleeing in panic is a common one.

Mr. Sullivan is as good as his word, and at his next meeting, tells the Master how you welched on the game. The Master is not impressed. Lose 3 Fame Points.

In other ways you are comparatively fortunate. Laura is not present in the Cleaning slave’s kitchen when you dash in, completely nude. Moreover, the other cleaning slaves consider it bad form to tell – and find you a new uniform from spares. None-the-less, you shudder in your shame. You were unable to complete your trial, and deep inside you find it hard to forgive yourself.

Lose 1 Submission point.

Now turn to 313.

Page 289

“Sir?” you ask meekly. “What if … perhaps we could halve the number of strokes? Eight dozen is really too much. In exchange, you won’t have to tell the Master if I win, but can still tell him if I lose?”

Mr. Sullivan laughs. “Cheeky minx! No – I’m not in the habit of letting a slave dictate the rules. We play by my rules. No more talking.”

You bite your quivering lip. Mr. Sullivan is clearly eager to torment your bottom to the fullest!

Will you: Bolt from the room, swinging open the door and running until you are far, far away? Turn to page 288.
Or resign yourself to your fate, and play by Mr. Sullivan’s impossible rules? Turn to page 290.

Page 290

Unable to suppress a quiver, you stand, watching as the seconds tick down to eleven o’clock. The very moment the clock strikes eleven, you hear a sharp whish!

Vip!

“Uh!” you grunt, the stroke catching you in the very centre of your buttocks. The sting is sharp, but grows sharper as the second hand drifts down to quarter past, building in intensity with each heavy tick of the clock.

At ten seconds past you have to suppress a whimper. You know that your temporary respite is soon to end. Tick, tick, tick, tick, tick.

Vip!

“Ohh!” you cry, the second stroke catching you lower, on the chubbiest part of your cheeks – the cursed sting continuing to build as the relentless clock ticks away.

“I like this game,” grunts Mr. Sullivan, puffing on his pipe. “Girls never know how to handle the time between strokes. The first five seconds, it’s just the shock, dealing with sting, trying to keep pose – that sort of thing…”

Vip!

“Ah!”

“The second five seconds is the true rest, where they feel they have lots of time to recover. A sort of holiday between the strokes. Alas, it is a holiday darkened by the knowledge of what is to follow it.”

Vip!

“Ngg!”

“The last five seconds is pure hell. It’s no shorter than the previous periods, of course, and yet the weighty doom that hangs upon its completion is terrifying. The holiday is over, and the cane is still there…”

Vip!

“Oh!” you cry, a lump forming in your throat, as you keep your eyes glued to the clock, and the damned second hand that tick, tick, tick’s it’s way toward the next stroke.

Vip!

If your Willpower is less than 4, the relentless inevitability of the strokes unnerves you. You disastrously cover your buttocks with your hands on one stroke, knowing, as you do, exactly when it is to fall. Mr. Sullivan happily resets your strokes to zero, and whips you anew. Raise your Bum Status by 2 Levels.

Vip! Tick, tick, tick. The seconds, like coffin bearers, march towards the next stroke with unhurried menace, the sting in your bum cheeks building horribly.

Vip!

By the end of the first set, your cheeks are flushed and your willpower sorely tested. Raise your Bum Status by 3 levels.

“And bend – your back at ninety degrees, hands gripping the back of your knees. Quickly, quickly – before the next stroke!”

You do a half bend as instructed, glad that this pulls your eyes from the clock above the door. Perhaps now you can get your mind off that damn ticking! Unfortunately, Mr. Sullivan has thought of everything. The small clock he brought in and placed at your feet now fills your vision. And the hand is already at fifteen seconds…

Vip!

“Uh!”

What do you do? Is this all too much for you? If so, will you quickly rise from your position and dash out the door? Turn to page 291.
Or will you bite your lip and hang on – even though there are seven dozen such strokes to come? Turn to page 292.

Page 291

The tension is too much. With a sudden lurch you wrench the door open and run, quite naked, down the hallway and away from Mr. Sullivan and his nasty cane, clutching your scalding buttocks as you go. The guests simply smile, the sight of a naked slave fleeing in panic is a common one.

Mr. Sullivan is as good as his word, and at his next meeting, tells the Master how you failed the game. The Master is not impressed. Lose 2 Fame Points.

Lose 1 Submission point.

Now turn to 313.

Page 292

Vip! Tick, tick, tick. Vip! Tick, tick, tick.

The seemingly endless punishment goes on! You have taken less than two dozen strokes, at yet it feels as if he has been punishing you forever!

Vip! Tick, tick, tick. Vip! Tick, tick, tick.

“Must be getting sore now,” muses Mr. Sullivan, inhaling deeply on his pipe with satisfaction. “The limbs ache, the bum stings, and all you can think about is that damned clock – ticking away until…”

Vip!

“Oh! Sir!” you choke, at a particularly cruel diagonal stroke that cuts across your previous tramlines.

“The clock is your agony – but it is my satisfaction,” laughs Mr. Sullivan. “Every tick brings me closer to painting that glorious arse of yours with another crimson stroke. Each tick for you brings you closer to ruin and pain…”

Vip!

You gaze furiously at the clock – the dictator of your suffering…

If your Submission is less than 6 you bat the clock away with your hand vengefully, as if blaming it for your present agonies. Mr. Sullivan tuts, replaces the clock back into your vision, and awards you a six more punishment strokes delivered at the same glacial pace as the others. Raise your Bum Status by 2 levels.

Vip! Tick, tick, tick. Vip! Tick, tick, tick.

Finally the second set crawls to an end, your fiery buttocks clenching tightly at the sting. Raise your Bum Status by 3 levels.

What now? Is enough enough? Do you flee the room, abandoning your trial to save your flaming arse? Turn to page 291.
Or do you remain solidly in position? Turn to page 293.

Page 293

“And right over, touching toes, like a school-girl,” leers Mr. Sullivan, setting your new position for the third dozen.

You miserably obey, for some reason keen not to miss your next cane stroke window. Mr. Sullivan’s timing is as excellent as ever.

Vip!

“Ouch!” you cry, the stroke so much more searching over your tightly stretched buttocks, the blow snuggling into a previous welt with a nasty hiss!

“What a gorgeous sight!” sighs Mr. Sullivan, examining your rudely upthrust bottom. “The buttocks pushed up and out, lovingly painted in cane welts, the sex just peeping beneath the trembling cheeks…”

Vip!

“Uh!”

“I say – you wouldn’t fancy giving me a better look, would you?” he grins, as the dreadful seconds tick by. “Just to oblige my scholarly interest?”

What do you do? Keep your legs firmly together – flashing your sex was not in the rules! Turn to page 294.
Shuffle your legs open wide, and let him see what he wants? Turn to page 295.

Page 294

Add 1 Dignity point for keeping some shred of honour.

“Ah, well – you’re choice,” he shrugs.

Vip!

“Ahh!”

Turn to page 296.

Page 295

Your bum is so sore that you do not care about making a spectacle of yourself. Saying nothing, you shuffle your legs wide apart, your obedience heightening his pleasure. Add 1 Submission point.

“Marvellous,” he applauds, crouching down to examine you closely. “Looks nice and tight. Might ask the wife’s permission to screw you later – but, oh! Let’s not miss the next stroke!”

Vip!

Mr. Sullivan catches you a quick, sharp stroke, done in haste – but just within the fifteen second rule.

“Phew! That was close, eh?” he laughs. “Wouldn’t want to deprive you of your due, would we?”

Now Turn to page 296.

Page 296

Vip!

“Uhh!” you moan, as another stroke, smack on time, cuts into your poor bottom. The sting covers your globes, and you are quite convinced there is not a single inch of unwhipped flesh left.

Vip!

If your Willpower is less than 6, you surrender to your desire to grasp your caned buttocks and cradle them, if only for a blissful moment! “Hands down – six extra!” comes the inevitable decree, taken out on your bottom with some venom to dissuade you from such a failure of protocol again. Raise your Bum Status by 2 Levels.

Vip!

“Ohh!” You are grunting at each stroke now, unable to maintain much decorum as your willpower is slowly crushed by the relentless Mr. Sullivan.

Vip!

“Ngg!”

Your third dozen is over – but it has taken a terrible toll on your cane-stroked buttocks! Raise your Bum Status by 3 levels.

And yet you are not even half way through your punishment. Your eyes water and your bum feels afire with welts.

What do you do? Do you flee the room, having taken as much as you can? Turn to page 291.
Or do you refuse to give in? Turn to page 297.

Page 297

“And right over the beating frame,” commands Mr. Sullivan. “Hurry girl! We must keep time!”

With great weariness, your arms and legs trembling, you rise from your stretched position, and stagger towards the frame, the chrome bars glinting dully in the light. Mr. Sullivan, in a rare act of haste, swoops to pick up the clock, ready to replace it.

“Quickly – right over! Five seconds left!” he cries.

Once again, despite the fact that the rules are hardly your advantage, you feel compelled to keep time – eager that the next wicked stroke should impact precisely on time like all the others.

You fold yourself over the bar, gripping the lower pole with your hands, sliding your arse up high into the air as a proffered target. The clock is once again placed before your eyes – just two seconds to spare before the next stroke.

Tick, tick, Vip!

“Ah!” you cry out, at the stroke swiftly and accurately delivered to your lower cheeks, a place struck so many times that a great, swelling bar is beginning to form.

And once again the dreadful pause – how you wish the next stroke would just come immediately instead of this awful waiting! You wiggle your bum desperately, hoping that this might encourage an early stroke from the lusty Mr. Sullivan.

“Ha! Sorry, my petal,” chides Mr. Sullivan, “but rules are rules. I can’t beat you any faster or risk breaking my word. And if I did that, there would be no game!”

Vip!

“Ouch!”

“And if there was no game there is nothing to win, and nothing to lose,” he smiles. “That’s why I love a good pony race, for while the mare suffers, she suffers for a reason – glory from the Master…”

Vip!

“Uhh!” Yes, you remind yourself, that is what this is about! Glory from the Master. The odds may be stacked against you, but you feel you know Mr. Sullivan well enough that he will always stick to his word.

Vip!

Oh! But the temptation to cry out and beg for mercy is tremendous, even though you know it will do you no good. If your Dignity is less than 5, however, this is exactly what you do, pleading, teary eyed, for lighter strokes. Feeling you are nearly broken, Mr. Sullivan ups his power instead, his last strokes searing your backside terribly. Raise your Bum Status by 1 level.

Vip! Tick, tick, tick. You glare at the clock, as the second hand continues its stately progress around the face. You are beginning to soften towards it. Somehow, in your mind, it is no longer the brutal conductor of your suffering, but a companion that goes with you on the journey.

Vip! The last stroke, delivered with vigour and aplomb cuts you to the quick, and emits a shriek from you – yet you exult. You have taken four dozen strokes of the cane without restraints, from a master of the implement, and with the ability to terminate your punishment at any time. Raise your Bum Status by 3 levels, but add 1 point to your Willpower – you have exceeded yourself.

But alas – your suffering is only half over. With fearful, flickering eyes, you watch as Mr. Sullivan begins to place your left ankle in a restraint, soon to secure it in place. Four dozen, taken in bondage, are about to be delivered to your scorching backside – and this time there will be no chance of escape…

Will you: Quickly rise from the bar, pulling your leg from the restraint before it locks, and flee? Turn to page 298.
Or, having come this far, see your cruel caning through right to the painful end? Turn to page 299.

Page 298

The tension is too much. With a sudden lurch you pull yourself from the bar, out of Mr. Sullivan’s grip, and wrench the door open. You run, quite naked, down the hallway and away from Mr. Sullivan and his nasty cane, clutching your scalding buttocks as you go. The guests simply smile, the sight of a naked slave fleeing in panic is a common one.

Mr. Sullivan is as good as his word, and at his next meeting, tells the Master how you failed the game. The Master is disappointed. Lose 1 Fame Point.

Lose 1 Submission point.

Now turn to 313.

Page 299

You whimper as slowly, one by one, your limbs are restrained in metal cuffs on the punishment bar. Your legs are widely parted, your hips stretched over, and your hands are both locked and gripping the lower bar. Your hair forms a curtain around your face, enclosing the ticking clock so that it is all your eyes can see. Mr. Sullivan kneels down beside you, and inserts a black ball gag into your mouth, securing it behind your head tightly. Your teeth sink into the ball – it is holding your mouth open widely, and your saliva instinctively jets into your mouth to drool around the edges of the gag. You have been silenced and secured.

It is fourteen minutes past eleven, and your bum still smoulders. There is a striking of a match behind you, and a plume of smoke emerges from Mr. Sullivan’s re-lit pipe.

“I think it is the mark of a civilized man that he can smoke a pipe whilst beating a maid,” he ponders. “I must say it increases my pleasure enormously – although I wouldn’t suggest you take up the habit yourself.”

He chuckles to himself, and then recovers his dreadful cane, which you hear him swish behind you. “We’ll start at a quarter past eleven,” he announces grandly, “strokes on the fifteen seconds, like clockwork. This time there is no possibility of quarter, no let up in your suffering. You shall be whipped your full quota of four dozen – or thereabouts. You shall be a trembling, teary wreck by the time I have finished. And victory will be mine.”

The last twenty seconds drift away. You try to remember what it was like to have an unbeaten bottom – but that feeling is a long way away from you now, as you feel Mr. Sullivan line up the cane to your backside.

It is a quarter past eleven.

Vip!

What can be said about your final four dozen? You howl, you cry, you drool. Your backside is agonizingly tested as each stroke, fast on delivery, but fearfully slow in the anticipation, cuts into your trembling, weal-striped buttocks. There is no doubting that were it not for the restraints, you would have collapsed, weeping, begging for mercy. You would have granted victory to Mr. Sullivan after the first dozen, but by the second you are a wreck, sobbing as your flaming arse is beaten again and again.

And then, come the third dozen, your total surrender, and Mr. Sullivan’s cruel usage of you tips you over the point of agony and into ecstasy. Completely broken you orgasm powerfully, whimpering in pleasure at your wretched state and scalding bum cheeks.

You quite lose count of the strokes, but the awful, blissful pain is memorable enough. Raise your Bum Status by 7 levels.

Suddenly, at exactly eleven twenty-eight, the strokes stop. Your gag is pulled from your drooling mouth, and your saliva gushes down your chin. Mr. Sullivan’s gloating face fills your vision.

“Quickly, girl – how many strokes did I just give you?”

You panic. In fear, you realise you were supposed to keep count. What will you say? Forty-five strokes? Turn to page 300.
Forty-eight strokes? Turn to page 301.
Fifty-two strokes? Turn to page 302.
Or will you immediately admit defeat, to spare yourself the chance of any more? Turn to page 303.

Page 300

“Wrong,” smiles Mr. Sullivan.

Turn to page 304.

Page 301

“Wrong,” smiles Mr. Sullivan.

Turn to page 304.

Page 302

“That’s … that’s correct!” he gasps. “But how did you manage to keep count? You were a drooling, squawking mess long before I had finished your due!”

You smile through your tears. “I didn’t have to. I trusted that you would keep to your word and beat me every fifteen seconds. Trouble is – you gave me a clock. You meant to psyche me out with it – but in fact it turned out to be my best friend. Because it kept count, even if I didn’t. You beat me for thirteen minutes. And thirteen times four is fifty-two.”

Mr. Sullivan looks utterly crestfallen. “That’s the trouble with you private school girls,” he fumes. “Too bright for your own good!”

“I win, Mr. Sullivan,” you hiss, flushed with victory. “And I’m going to hold you to your word! You tell the Master exactly what happened here, and how I beat you!”

Mr. Sullivan nods sadly. “My word is my bond – and I can’t say you didn’t earn your victory. I will speak with the Master this very evening.”

Indeed, Mr. Sullivan, for all his cruelty, is a man of honour. When the Master hears of your endurance and victory, he is most impressed. Gain 3 Fame points.

Eventually, exhausted and sore, you are released from your bonds and dismissed.

Turn to page 313.

Page 303

“Please, Mr. Sullivan, no more!” you beg. “I surrender – you win, you win!”

Mr. Sullivan smiles, and pats you on your ravaged behind, making you wince. “Quite right, old thing, just as I was bound to. I’m sorry to say the Master will hear of your defeat, but I’d like to thank you personally for this wonderful opportunity. What a magnificent arse!”

You are full of regret at your failure, your arse blazing in defeat. Reduce your Willpower by 1. However, despite Mr. Sullivan’s embellishments the Master is quite impressed with your endurance, if a little disappointed in your failure. Gain 1 Fame Point.

Mr. Sullivan eventually frees you from your bonds, and good-naturedly lets you off from any cleaning duties you were to perform for him. Thanking him earnestly, you stagger from the room, clutching your scalding backside as you go.

Now Turn to page 313.

Page 304

You sob piteously as Mr. Sullivan reattached your gag and steps behind you. A dozen times or more the cane lashes into your flaming bum cheeks, and you wiggle and groan in despair. Any hope of counting the strokes is lost in your misery. Mr. Sullivan has won, and you’re only hope now is to concede defeat.

Raise your Bum Status by 1 level.

Turn to page 303.

Page 305

Whilst cleaning the mantelpiece, not really looking where you’re going, you blunder into the ancient vase, knocking it to the floor with a neat smash.

“Why, you clumsy oaf!” laughs Mr. Sullivan, putting down his paper. “I’m sure you realise that this is a punishable offence?”

“Yes, sir,” you reply meekly, realising there is probably no escape.

Mr. Sullivan surveys you coyly. “And yet … I can’t help but feel this accident was a little forced – do you not agree?”

Will you: Earnestly insist that the breakage was an accident? Turn to page 306.
Defiantly say that you smashed the vase on purpose? Turn to page 310.
Reply that, as a cleaning slave, your opinion doesn’t matter? Turn to page 311.

Page 306

“I see,” muses Mr. Sullivan. “Then punishment is clearly due. You may crawl over here and lay across my lap. Oh – bring the slipper in your mouth whilst you’re at it. And be thankful I don’t cane you – although you look like the type who’d relish a lashing.”

If you have the trait ‘Lust for the Cane’, Turn to page 287.
If not, read on.

It is a painful spanking, but the knowledge that you brought it on yourself strengthens you. Raise your Bum Status by 3 Levels and gain 1 Willpower point.

Finally he releases you to clean, which you do, sniffling somewhat from the tremendous heat in your backside. When you are finished, you thank Mr. Sullivan and quietly slip out of the room.

Turn to page 313.

Page 307

“Please, sir,” you ask, eyes downcast, “I haven’t been able to get you out of my head. I wander if you will please cane my naughty bottom. My bothering you alone justifies my punishment.”

Add one to your Submission.

Mr. Sullivan nods. “Quite proper. Of course I shall oblige, the sight of your churning buttocks is one I have treasured since our last encounter. It pleases me to see that you accept our relationship is a simple one. Me on top, you on the bottom.”

Turn to page 308.

Page 308

Mr. Sullivan has you bent over his writing desk, your flimsy, short maid’s skirt riding high over your buttocks to reveal them in the warm light of the room.

From his cabinet, Mr. Sullivan produces a long school cane, swishing it sharply through the air as he considers your up-thrust cheeks.

“A simple dozen will do,” he muses. “No need to over-indulge you, you’ll be back for a taste of the cane again and again…”

Vip! Vip!

Two quick lashes catch you quite off guard, and it is all you can do not to clutch your arse in shock as you howl out to the strokes.

Vip! Vip!

Another pair of strokes, forehand and backhand, have you wincing. Mr. Sullivan’s impressive speed is testing your reserve to the limit.

Vip! Vip!

If your Willpower is 4 or less, you clutch your bum in agony as a pair of strokes land directly on the previous weals. Mr. Sullivan raps the table top with his cane and curtly informs you you’ve earned six extra. Raise your Bum Status by 1 Level.

Vip! Vip! Vip!

The swift lashing, delivered with barely a seconds pause between strokes, is almost more than you can take, but you stay down letting Mr. Sullivan do his worst to your defenceless behind. Raise your Bum Status by 2 levels.

“That will do for today,” grins Mr. Sullivan smugly. “I dare say you’ll be grovelling for the cane at some point again. You may rise, and leave.”

“Thank you, Mr. Sullivan,” you wince, leaving his presence, gripping your seared behind.

Turn to page 313.

Page 309

Just thinking about your humiliating defeat is enough to make you flush. Lose 1 Willpower point, as you grovel before the smug Mr. Sullivan.

“Very well, girl,” grunts Mr. Sullivan. “Since you lack grit or spunk you may as well snivel around doing my cleaning – but I warn you, I’m watching you!”

“Oh, thank you, sir!” you babble gratefully.

You are unsure if it’s wise, but you could get Mr. Sullivan’s attention by deliberately knocking the vase over. You’re not sure why the idea appeals, but it is hard to get out of your head.

Will you? Smash the vase, making it look like an accident? Turn to page 306.
Leave it well alone? Turn to page 312.

Page 310

You confess to breaking the vase on purpose, Mr. Sullivan nodding wisely. “It is as I suspected,” he says. “You may clear up the mess – and be assured that the Master shall hear of how you treat his property.”

You are mortified. If you wish to beg for a suitably severe punishment in exchange for his silence, Mr Sullivan will oblige you. Turn to page 308.

If not, you finish up your cleaning with misery in your heart, knowing what a poor report awaits you when Mr. Sullivan speaks to the master. Lose 2 Fame Points.

Now Turn to page 313.

Page 311

“Very true,” admits Mr. Sullivan. “In which case, as judge and jury, I decree the cane for your wilful backside!”

Add one submission point.

Turn to page 308.

Page 312

You carefully go about your duties as the professional you are. Mr. Sullivan glances over his paper many times, trying to catch you out – but his twisted sense of fair play does not allow him to invent a reason to harry your backside.

Reduce your Submission by 1 for failing to allow this guest to indulge in his fantasies.

One you finish, you give a small curtsy, and leave the room.

Turn to page 313.

Page 313

You return that evening, exhausted from your cleaning, to discover Laura once again throwing her tiny weight around. This time, you are surprised to see the giant Samantha, crouching on all fours before the tiny girl, her backside a ruby red patchwork of welts. Laura is thrashing her with her favourite belt, laying into her bottom stroke after fierce stroke. You can see a number of Laura’s other bully girls, including Gillian and Katherine, gathered around, laughing at the display – encouraging Laura on with fiercer strokes.

You are so exhausted that you cannot intervene, even though you doubt Samantha has earned such a fierce punishment. Your instincts are proven right.

“And that,” says Laura, panting with elation, “is to remind you of who’s in charge here. Don’t think I haven’t caught your nasty little expressions when you thought I wasn’t looking!”

Samantha just sobs brokenly, mumbling apologies into her hands.

“Well – there’s plenty more where that came from, bitch – so just you remember whose side you’re on!” snarls Laura, before returning to her dinner.

That night, in your tiny room, you can still hear Samantha weeping.

Will you? Turn over and try to get some sleep? Turn to page 320.
Go into her room and see her? Turn to page 314.

Page 314

Samantha’s pitiful weeping is too much for you. Just past midnight, you sneak into her room, scared to knock in case Laura catches you.

Samantha looks up at you, red eyed and teary. “What do you want?” she mopes, fearing you mean to mock her.

Will you? Cruelly mock her, pointing out what a big girl’s blouse she is, and how the other girls laugh at her behind her back? Turn to page 315.
Comfort her, sharing with her your dislike of Laura? Turn to page 317.

Page 315

You jeer cruelly at Samantha. If your Ambition is 6 or more, Turn to page 316.
If not, read on.

You have made a big mistake. Samantha is in no mood to take insults from a little twig like you. Quick as a flash you are bent over her knee, you bottom smacked hard and quickly. You wriggle and scream, but there is no escaping her vice-like grip, nor does anyone come to your aid. You backside is pounded crimson by the furious Samantha. Raise your Bum Status by 3 Levels.

“Now get out – or there’s plenty more!” spits Samantha, shoving you rudely onto the floor.

You scrabble from her room and bolt into your own, preying that she does not pay you a vengeful visit in the night…

Turn to page 320.

Page 316

Samantha crumples before your venomous words, coiling into a tight ball weeping.

If you have the trait ‘Sadistic’ you may add one to any attribute.

When you tire of this cruel bullying you retire to your own bed. Turn to page 320.

Page 317

Samantha sniffles. “Laura is a spiteful little bitch! I’d love to just break her in half! But I can’t … she has a hold over me – and I can’t risk it … or else I’ll be due even worse.”

“Surely nothing can be worse than being bullied by that little twerp!” you exclaim. “Come on, Sam, tell me. I might be able to help you!”

If you have the codeword TRUSTED Turn to page 318.

If not, Samantha cannot bring herself to tell you. You comfort her a little more, and then return to your own room.

Turn to page 320.

Page 318

Samantha looks at you searchingly, then nods to herself, as if she has made up her mind.

“Every year the Master throws a party, where slaves have a night of freedom and partying in the Grand Hall. Our Mistress, Mistress Rose, had guests staying with her, one of which was a woman about my size. Whilst I was cleaning I saw the most beautiful red shoes you ever saw in your life – and what was better they actually fitted me! I couldn’t help it – it was an impulse. I stole them, and wore them for the party! I looked beautiful, but Laura … Laura knew where they came from. She said that I had to do everything she said or she’d tell Miss. Rose.”

“Nobody steals from Miss. Rose! Nobody! She’s the cruellest, coldest whipper in the manor. I’m terrified of her – I just can’t confess what I’ve done … so I’m trapped. I’m going to be Laura’s slave forever…”

You’ve heard of Miss. Rose (you even might have met her). She is indeed a terrifying figure, with a reputation for utterly merciless behaviour – a firm favourite of the Master’s.

You try to persuade Samantha. “If you just had courage, you could be free…”

“I couldn’t – never! Never! Never!” weeps Samantha.

What will you do? Offer to pretend it was you who stole the shoes, and accept Miss. Rose’s punishment on her behalf? Turn to page 319.
Console her, and then quickly go and catch some sleep? Turn to page 320.

Page 319

Samantha is astonished. “But why … why would you do that for me?”

“Because Laura has to be stopped – promise me, if I do this, you’ll back me when the time comes?”

Samantha looks overjoyed. “I promise!”

“Then it looks like I have a date with Miss. Rose,” you smile.

Gain the codeword PATSY.

Now Turn to page 320.

Page 320

You gain a fitful night’s rest. Reduce your Bum Status by 3 levels.

The next morning, Laura lounging in her lazy seat of command, you are directed to clean the Mistresses’ quarters. Laura’s bully-girls laugh when they hear this pronouncement, and stick their tongues out at you.

“Cleaning sluts always get a whopping from the Mistresses – they’re impossible to please,” explains Laura with a smile. “Tonight you’ll return with a blistered, sore arse – if so, I’m going to add to your strokes, just because I can!”

Laura and the girls laugh at you as you exit the kitchen, duster in hand, tremulously making your way up two floors to the Mistresses’ domains.

Checking your rota you shiver. Miss. Rose, the Mistress in charge of cleaning herself, is your first chamber.

Hearing voices behind the door, you knock politely, awaiting permission to enter.

“Come!” says an imperious voice, and you quickly open the door and curtsy.

Miss. Rose is not alone in her dark panelled room. Sitting upon a velvet chair is a guest, dressed in a burgundy dressing gown. He is a handsome man, of perhaps thirty years, with an elegant, thin moustache. He has the bearing of an Edwardian gentleman.

Miss. Rose herself is quite beautiful, slender, black haired, with a tightly corseted waist. Her black and red lacy garment clings to her willowy, graceful body. She quickly assesses you:

If you have the codeword APPOINTMENT Turn to page 321.
If you have the codeword BOTTLE Turn to page 322.
If you have the codeword GUTLESS Turn to page 323.
If you have the codeword HONOUR Turn to page 324.

If not, Miss. Rose regards you neutrally. “On your knees, cleaning slut,” she commands airily. “Remain on them throughout your time here. You may not address either myself or Mr. Harding during your duties, nor make eye contact. When you finish you may kiss my heals and crawl out. Understood?”

If you have the codeword PATSY Turn to page 325.

If not, Turn to page 326.

Page 321

Miss. Rose smiles sardonically. “I was expecting you a little earlier,” she says, referring to the appointment you made with Miss. Rose all those months ago when you first arrived.

“I … I’m sorry miss … I thought that was optional…” you blather.

“It was,” she confirms. “That doesn’t mean I don’t think you an odious little worm for your cowardice.”

You droop your head in shame. Lose 1 Willpower point.

“On your knees, cleaning slut,” she commands airily. “Remain on them throughout your time. You may not address either myself or Mr. Harding during your duties, nor make eye contact. When you finish you may kiss my heals and crawl out. Understood?”

If you have the codeword PATSY Turn to page 325.

If not, Turn to page 326.

Page 322

“Well,” smiles Miss. Rose, cruelly. “If it isn’t that cringing little coward who had the nerve to disrupt one of my whippings!”

She turns to the gentleman in the seat. “I whipped this slut on her first day – she bottled and ran in the most pathetic display I’ve ever seen from a new slave. You should know, slave, that your suffering achieved nothing. I had Clarissa crawl back here on her hands and knees and whipped anew, with extra. She knows who to thank for her mistreatment.”

You wither under her cutting barrage. Reduce all your attributes by 1 point.

If you have the codeword PATSY Turn to page 325.

If not, Turn to page 326.

Page 323

Miss. Rose surveys you with little emotion. “I had heard you had been transferred to me. Perhaps it shall fortify you. I can only hope you carry yourself with more dignity than last time!”

You shuffle awkwardly, remembering your unseemly defiance when you were punished by this steely woman. Reduce your Submission by 1.

“On your knees, cleaning slut,” she commands airily. “Remain on them throughout your time here. You may not address either myself or Mr. Harding during your duties, nor make eye contact. When you finish you may kiss my heals and crawl out. Understood?”

If you have the codeword PATSY Turn to page 325.

If not, Turn to page 326.

Page 324

Miss. Rose smiles as she sees you. “I had heard you were transferred to me. Good.”

She turns to the guest. “This young slave has the markings of greatness. A naive young thing, but a creature of honour, whose word binds her tighter than steel chains. She took a punishment for a girl she didn’t even know. Foolish – no doubt, but earnest, I commend her highly as the pinnacle of slavehood.”

You blush with pride – few slaves earn the respect of Miss. Rose. Raise your Dignity and Willpower by 1.

“On your knees, young one,” she commands airily. “Remain on them throughout your time here. You may not address either myself or Mr. Harding during your duties, nor make eye contact. When you finish you may kiss my heals and crawl out. Understood?”

If you have the codeword PATSY Turn to page 325.

If not, Turn to page 326.

Page 325

It’s now or never.

“Apologies, Miss. Rose, but I have a confession to make…” you blurt.

Miss. Rose’s eyes gaze coldly into yours, and you cannot help but lower your head. “A confession? Few confess any crime to me – my reputation seldom encourages it. It is the way I like it. Catching a lazy slut at misbehaviour is more satisfying than sitting as a judge. Nonetheless, you have a confession to make, so make it, and take the consequences.”

Will you? Confess that you harbour lustful thoughts towards Miss Rose’s guest, Mr. Harding? Turn to page 327.
Claim that you stole a former guest’s shoes? Turn to page 332.
Say that you have come to take the punishment for Samantha’s crime of theft? Turn to page 333.

Page 326

“Yes, miss,” you murmur, dropping onto your hands and knees. Miss. Rose and the guest largely ignoring you as you set to work.

You know of Miss. Rose’s reputation as a terrifying dominatrix, with no patience for even the slightest error. Therefore you are extremely meticulous in your cleaning, realising that the slightest error will land you in pain.

According to the schedule you must clean the tables, the floor and the chairs – but it does not say in which order you should do it…

Will you? Clean the tables first? Turn to page 335.
Clean the floor first? Turn to page 336.
Clean the chairs first? Turn to page 338.

Page 327

“Such impertinence!” splutters Miss Rose. “It is not for a slave to find a guest attractive! A slave’s opinion is of no value. Neither myself, nor Mr. Harding have any interest in the meaningless thoughts of a cleaning slut!”

If you have the trait ‘Blonde’ Turn to page 328.
If not, read on.

“I apologise, Mistress – but I could conceal nothing from you…” you blurt.

“I don’t accept apologies, I issue punishment,” she decrees. “Mr. Harding – you are the wounded party. How many strokes should this insolent slave receive?”

Mr. Harding smiles. “A poor maid’s fate in my hands – a pity I lack the quality of mercy. Two dozen with your famous ‘Slut Thrasher’ should do. Afterwards, if her bum looks suitably tasty, I shall slake my lust upon her shame hole.”

“A buggery?” enquires Miss Rose, raising an eyebrow. “Most irregular. Only the master may take a girl in her private hole without permission…”

Will you? Plead to be whipped double … anything to avoid a bum-shaming! Turn to page 329.
Give Mr. Harding permission to shame you? Turn to page 376.

Page 328

Mr. Harding clears his throat. Miss Rose turns, as do you, enchanted by his beautiful features.

“I take no offence,” he says, his eyes locked upon you. “I was rather hoping for the opportunity, in fact. Perhaps if the girl should beg shamelessly enough I might swizz her…”

Miss Rose bows to Mr. Harding. “A guest’s will is paramount here, of course.” She turns to you, a glimmer of frustration in her eyes. “On your knees, filth, and beg Mr. Harding for the pleasure of his cock!”

You quickly drop to your knees and scurry forwards, begging cravenly to be used as Mr. Harding sees fit.

If your Submission is 5 or less, Mr. Harding is unimpressed with your grovelling. Miss Rose quickly reaches for her ‘Slut Thrasher’, a many tailed quirt of rubber thongs, and lashes your bum, exposed from your crawling, too add urgency to your snivelling. Raise your Bum Status by 2 Levels.

Once Mr. Harding is satisfied you are completely obedient, he rises from his chair and steps aside. “Please stand, and then bend over until your face is pressed to the cushion. Your pleasure is imminent…”

It has been a long time since a man has taken you – and your belly flutters in excitement as you grip onto the sides of the seat and bury your face in the cushion. Mr. Harding slides his hand over your backside, examining the faded welts from former beatings, before opening his dressing gown at the front.

There is no warning, but you are ready for him, your pleading having put you in an advanced state of arousal. Mr. Harding pushes into you, with less roughness than you expected, but stretching you more than you anticipated. You moan softly as the man takes you, riding you from behind both fast and slow, sometimes stopping to mash your clitoris with his hand, much to the evident disapproval of Miss Rose.

“Really, Mr. Harding!” she tuts. “A slave’s pleasure should be inconsequential!”

“Perhaps,” he grunts, pushing into you again, grasping your buttocks. “But I have sworn a vow to pleasure every blonde girl I lay, and I am not in the habit of going back on my word.”

His rhythm increases, as does his stroking of your pleasure bud, until the two of you explode into mutual orgasm. You cry out, both to heighten his pleasure and your own. You may raise one attribute by 1 point.

Finished, Mr. Harding pulls out of you, cleaning his sopping cock on your skirt. “That will be all, maid,” he says, dismissing you.

Rising from your prone position you curtsy to both Miss Rose and Mr. Harding, and scurry out.

Turn to page 342.

Page 329

“So you do have some sense of shame?” says Miss Rose sarcastically, before turning to Mr. Harding. “I’m afraid your request is impossible. But rest assured, I shall skin the girl’s arse for her defiance…”

Mr. Harding frowns. “That is not good enough. I am dissatisfied. Clearly the two of you have entered some sort of pact to deprive me of my pleasures.”

Miss Rose bristles in outrage. “I assure you, sir, I certainly would never demean myself by forming a, what did you call it, pact with any slave!”

Mr. Harding rises, fury in his eyes. “You forget yourself, Miss Rose,” he snarls. “I say it is a pact, and a pact it is!”

Swallowing, Miss Rose demurs, lowering her head. So! What you have heard is true! Even the powerful mistresses are beholden to the guests…

“You shall both be punished together, until one of you acquiesces to my demands. I shall bugger one of you – which one remains to be seen…”

It occurs to you that this situation could end you in a lot of trouble if Miss Rose ends up on the losing side. If you wish to quickly agree to be shamefully used by Mr. Harding Turn to page 377.
If not, read on.

Minutes later you have both been arranged to Mr. Harding’s liking. You have been tied over the backs of two chairs – Miss Rose now dressed in nothing but her black suspenders, and you, as a slave girl, stripped entirely bare. The chairs have been arranged so you can see one another, Miss Rose’s face only six inches from your own. Firmly secured, you realise that the guest could take you, or Miss Rose, at any time he sees fit – but clearly his will is to toy with you first.

“You first, I think, Miss Rose,” says Mr. Harding, examining Miss Rose’s upthrust cheeks with obvious pleasure. “As the senior, it must be you who provides the example to the slave wench…”

Miss Rose fixes you with a glare, and you find it difficult not to smirk at the thought of so feared a mistress getting her comeuppance. Mr. Harding takes Miss Rose’s fearsome ‘Slut Thrasher’, a many tailed quirt of rubber thongs, from its pride of place on her desk. Trailing the thongs through his fingers in appreciation, he fixes Miss Rose’s bottom with a predatory eye. With a graceful twist of his torso, he swings the quirt back, only to whip it forwards to lash Miss Rose’s defenceless bum.

Thwap!

Miss Rose screws her eyes shut in pain, but does not call out, refusing to demean herself that much before a lowly slave. Assuming his first blow was ineffectual, Mr. Harding whips down again, harder, in an attempt to elicit a response.

Thwap!

“Gnnn,” grunts Miss Rose to the resounding slap to her buttocks. Nodding to himself, now that he had found his strength, Mr. Harding presses on.

Thwap! Thwap! Thwap!

Miss Rose takes a full dozen, grunting only every other stroke or so, keeping her bum still and thrust up for Mr. Harding’s pleasure. It is an impressive display of fortitude, and has you wondering if you might be able to match it.

You do not have to wait long. Soon Mr. Harding is behind you, surveying your backside critically. “We’ll have you up on tiptoes, I think, just to thrust that gorgeous bum of yours even higher.”

“Yes, sir,” you murmur obediently, straining up on tiptoes and curving in your back as best you can. The guest hums pleasantly at the sight, before rapidly thrashing down.

Thwap!

The sting from the Slut Thrasher is atrocious, as the rubber tongues grip and bite your helpless bottom. You’re sure that, despite your private vow to endure as well as possible, your face must have screwed up from the shock, for a sly smile crosses Miss Rose’s lips as she studies you.

Thwap! Thwap! Thwap!

If your Dignity is 8 or higher, Turn to page 330.
Otherwise read on.

Mr. Harding, or at least his weapon, is a most excruciating thrasher. You cannot help but groan and whimper through your set, shifting and clenching in a most girlish way as you are beaten. Raise your Bum Status by 2 Levels. Naturally, a feeble dozen is not enough to break your will – you’re much tougher than that now – but Miss Rose’s response to her next thrashing is enough to demoralize you.

As Mr. Harding cracks his whip hard across Miss Rose’s bum cheeks, scarcely a flicker crosses her face. Her endurance is phenomenal, and even as Mr. Harding whips with full strength, she barely bats an eyelid. It becomes clear to you that Miss Rose will be the inevitable winner, and that your best bet is to surrender before your bum gets really sore!

As Mr. Harding finishes his last stroke on Miss Rose’s crimson cheeks, you pipe up: “Oh, sir! Enough, I beg you. You may use me as you please, but please, no more of that ghastly whip!”

Mr. Haring accepts your surrender gracefully, releasing Miss Rose from her bonds to rub her buttocks, before coming to stand behind your own.

“The shame of your defeat shall be manifest,” he says. “Miss Rose, see to it that this wench is given The Mark of Shame, so that all may know she opened her bum hole for a man’s pleasure.”

“Of course, Mr. Harding,” says Miss Rose. “It would only be proper that the other girls know of this slave’s appalling perversions.”

With that, Mr. Harding opens his dressing gown, grabs your welted buttocks, and penetrates you right to the root. His cock fills your bum, stretching the clinging anal elastic, and causing you to groan with impalement. His heavy, rhythmic buggering, has you moaning with a mixture of pain and ecstasy, for, much against your will, it is delightful to be used so callously by this cruel man.

You have orgasmed long before he has finished. Raise one of your attributes by 1 point. Finally, with a tremendous buck, Mr. Harding shoots his load into you, his seamen pumping deep into your anus. He withdraws with a dull plop, smacking your buttocks appreciatively.

“A fine bum!” he cries. “A shame your Master does not allow such access at will, I’d shame every slut he owns! Get this filthy maid from my sight – she is of no further use to me.”

Miss Rose releases you coolly, and returns your maid’s outfit – but with a new addition. A large, black rosette is now sewn on to it – The Mark of Shame.

If you already have the Mark of Shame, Turn to page 331.

Otherwise you thank Miss Rose and Mr. Harding and swiftly exit the chamber.

Turn to page 342.

Page 330

Despite the terrible heat building up on your behind, you remain cool and stony faced, as if you were enduring no more than a troublesome fly. Miss Rose surveys you with obvious concern on her face – she expected you to be crumbling by now.

Raise your Bum Status by 2 Levels.

It is Miss Rose’s turn next. Agitated by your perfect endurance, her mask slips, and she groans and whimpers in pain as Mr. Harding resumes his thrashing of her. By the last stroke she is forced to bite her lip to stop herself from calling out.

Sensing victory you once again suffer Mr. Harding’s beating with barely so much as a batted eyelid. As your total draws to a close, and Miss Rose realises she faces yet another cruel dozen, she concedes. “Enough! Clearly I am out of practice, for this maid is beaten so often her bum must be made of leather! There is no beating her, I surrender.”

Raise your Bum Status by 2 levels.

Mr. Harding appears surprised. “Defeated by a slave girl, Miss Rose? You deserve the shaming you are about to receive…”

The guest leaves you tied to the chair as he replaced the Slut Thrasher upon the desk and stands behind Miss. Rose’s crimson cheeks. Miss Rose swallows as she hears Mr. Harding open his dressing gown. Gripping onto her hot bum cheeks and opening them wide, Mr. Harding thrusts within Miss Rose, her eyes bolting open in shock.

You can see nothing but Miss Rose’s face, which alternately contorts and gasps at the heavy buggery performed upon her. She moans and gargles as she is penetrated, drool escaping from the corners of her mouth as the whole chair shakes from the impact of his hips against her sore bum.

Eventually there is a cry from both of them as Mr. Harding climaxes within her. You suffer a momentary pang of jealousy that it was not you at the receiving end … until, that is, you see the consequences of Miss Rose’s defeat.

Rummaging through Miss Rose’s desk, Mr. Harding produces a small, black rosette, and dangles it before Miss Rose’s eyes.

“No!” she wails. “Not the Mark of Shame!”

“You perversity merits it,” Mr. Harding says gravely. “I dare say your standing among the other Mistresses will be severely reduced once they hear of it.”

“Please!” she begs. “Anything but that – perhaps we can come to a deal? I’ll stick to any terms you mention, but do not make me wear that!”

Mr. Harding nods. “A weekly buggering should be sufficient – every Thursday afternoon in my quarters you will surrender up your bottom hole to my service. In exchange you will have my silence.”

Miss Rose scowls. “Agreed,” she says reluctantly.

“But what of the slave? Her silence too must be bought,” grins Mr. Harding.

Miss Rose fixes you with a glare. “I know what she desires above all other things – stay silent, cleaning slave, and I shall speak well of you before the Master.”

“Thank you, miss!” you exclaim, overjoyed – for indeed, it is the very best you could have hoped for in this situation.

Miss Rose is eager to keep the secret and keeps her word. You gain 4 Fame Points, and can raise your Willpower by 1.

Minutes later you have been released and, curtsying to them both, quickly scuttle from the room.

Turn to page 342.

Page 331

You have made a grave mistake in enjoying the secret pleasures of buggery. The Master disapproves of the practice – and upon hearing of your second fall from grace in such a short time has you sent to the catacombs beneath the manor.

Here dwell the former Master’s, cast out from the Manor for weakness or cruelty. They slake their pleasure upon slaves and mistresses too nosy or too obscene to enjoy only the pleasures of the manor. Here you shall serve for all time in chains, to disgraced Masters who have no concept of a slave’s dignity, to service their throbbing members and perverse desires until the end of time itself.

Your adventure ends here…

Page 332

“I’ve been trying to keep it to myself miss, but the guilt! The guilt has been too much!” you blather, as you confess to the stealing of the red shoes. “I’ll return them – I promise … but seeing you in the flesh, I had to confess!”

Miss Rose examines you carefully. “A grave crime – but are you sure you are telling me everything?”

Will you: Stick to your story? Turn to page 334.
Or admit that Samantha took the shoes – but that you want to take the punishment on her behalf? Turn to page 333.

Page 333

“I see,” smiles Miss. Rose. “So finally the truth is out. You are a curious creature – willing to take the strokes of other slaves that you could avoid yourself. You are either an honourable slave or a very cunning one. Which is which I shall make it my business to find out. You of course have the right to take another slave’s beating in their place and I must accept it. But remember, honour does not reduce suffering – and I shall sting you just as hard as if you were that craven giant, Samantha.”

“I understand, miss,” you say. Indeed it is what you fully expected. You feel strangely in control of the situation, gain 1 Submission point.

Gain the Codeword PLUCK.

Turn to page 334.

Page 334

“The loss of those shoes caused me considerable embarrassment,” says Miss Rose haughtily as you strain against your bonds. You have been commanded to stand in the middle of the room, bent over, hands tied to your ankles, to receive three dozen cane strokes. Mr. Harding, the guest, reclines gently in his chair, content to view your squirming posterior, of which he has an excellent view.

There is, of course, only one answer: “Yes, miss,” you reply subserviently.

“So be it – let justice be done!”

Vip!

A cruel opening stroke to your lower buttocks makes you jolt, a sizzling line appearing where the cane departs your flesh. Miss Rose is clearly a wicked caner.

Vip! Vip!

Two more strokes, as sharp as the first, impact upon your stretched bum skin, searing you tightly – three dozen of these must surely be unbearable!

Vip! Vip! Vip!

Miss Rose’s aim is true and steady, and she beats you with tremendous grace and skill. You bottom certainly feels it, and by the end of the first dozen you can feel every stroke as a separate line of fire, sizzling away into your behind.

You are glad indeed that your hands are tied, sparing you the temptation of clutching your sorely wounded bum cheeks. Nor is there any real way of cringing away from the cuts as they lash down with joyous venom from Miss Rose’s fair hand.

If your Willpower is 6 or less, you cannot help but well up with tears and cry at the stoking fire in your backside. This does not cost you any repeats, but you must reduce your Dignity by 1 as you consider the spectacle you are making in front of Mr. Harding.

The lashing continues, straight and true, the elegant Miss. Rose, one hand perched upon her waist, the other hewing down into your scarlet buttocks, delivers your three dozen with few pauses and little mercy. At the final stroke she whips hard into the space between your cheeks and thighs, eliciting a high pitched shriek from you as a fitting crescendo to her work. Raise your Bum Status by 5 levels.

“There!” she declares dramatically. “Justice is finally done. You will arrange to have my shoes delivered to me by tomorrow morning. The balance is restored, and this unpleasant business is now over.”

“Thank you, Miss Rose,” you sniffle pitifully.

You have done Samantha a good turn by your selfless deed. She won’t forget it. Gain the Codeword SAMANTHA.

Now Turn to page 342.

Page 335

You work unregarded and unmarked, polishing the tables, carefully remembering where everything is before replacing it. You dust carefully around the holder of Miss. Rose’s favourite whip, the Slut Thrasher, trembling at the thought of its many rubber tendrils biting into your bum.

You are almost afraid to stop cleaning – but once the table tops are shining, you conclude that you must stop.

Will you now: Clean the floor? Turn to page 336.
Clean the chairs? Turn to page 338.

Page 336

Have you cleaned the chairs and tables already? If so Turn to page 341.
If not, read on:

You crouch down on all fours, and begin to scrub the stains from the carpet before Miss. Rose and her guest.

“What do you think you are doing girl?” roars Ms. Rose suddenly.

You swallow in fear, crouched defencelessly before the angry Mistress.

“Please, Miss,” you grovel. “I was cleaning the carpet.”

“But you have not yet finished with the tables and chairs!” she thunders. “Dust from them might fall upon the carpet after you’ve cleaned it! Stupid girl, have you no sense?”

“I’m sorry, miss,” you cry desperately.

The guest, Mr. Harding, clears is throat: “Perhaps, Miss. Rose, you can chasten this errant maid with your famous ‘Slut Thrasher’ – I have heard much of your skill with that weapon.”

“A good idea, Mr. Harding,” Miss. Rose agrees readily. “Insolence must never be tolerated!”

Will you: Accept your punishment mutely, and obediently? Turn to page 337.
Or claim that you were distracted by Mr. Harding’s incredible beauty? Turn to page 327.

Page 337

You bow your head submissively – accepting the decree of your betters.

“Over Mr. Harding’s knee, slave,” barks Miss. Rose. “He can enjoy close up the work I shall do upon that lazy backside of yours.”

“Yes, miss,” you murmur, but your eyes flash at the thought of going over the knee of the handsome Mr. Harding. If only he was spanking you, rather than the cruel Miss. Rose!

You crawl over to Mr. Harding and drape yourself over his knee. The guest smiles lustily as your full buttocks are revealed from your tiny maid’s skirt, and he strokes your smooth globes appreciatively. “This is a pretty maid,” he comments, his hands squeezing your buttocks.

“Indeed – a pretty lazy maid, whose incompetence embarrasses me,” snaps Miss. Rose, snatching her ‘Slut Thrasher’ from its mounting on the desk. “What must you think of us, employing such idle staff? I only hope the vigour with which I whip this miscreant’s buttocks can persuade you that the sin of sloth is not shared by all the master’s servants.”

“We shall see,” smiles Mr. Harding, removing his hand from your buttocks to present Miss. Rose with a clear target.

Thwap!

Miss. Rose waists no time in delivering the first stinging rebuke to your backside, the rubbery fronds gripping to your bum flesh before ripping away, leaving a pattern of brilliant red marks across your bottom. You jolt over Mr. Harding’s knee, your legs shooting out, your hands gripping onto the deep pile carpet.

Thwap! Thwap! Thwap!

If your Willpower is 5 or less you cannot help but wriggle under the Slut Thrasher’s stinging fronds, making a terrible display of yourself before the amused eyes of Mr. Harding. “I think, perhaps, we should start again?” suggests Mr. Harding, wrapping his own leg over your kicking ones. “I’ll keep her in place.” Naturally, Miss. Rose agrees, and whips you anew over your old welts. Raise your Bum Status by 2 levels.

Thwap! Thwap!

“You may continue, maid,” commands Miss Rose imperiously. “And this time – get it right!”

“Yes, miss! Thank you, miss!” you blurt desperately, slinking off Mr. Harding’s to finish your cleaning – not daring to nurse your scalded buttocks for fear of worse.

Eventually, your duties completed to Miss. Rose’s satisfaction, you are dismissed.

Turn to page 342.

Page 338

There are three chairs in the chamber, and you diligently polish and clean the first two without incident (or thanks).

Unfortunately the last chair, a comfortable armchair, is occupied by Mr. Harding.

What will you do? Wait until Mr. Harding has risen from the chair and then quickly clean it? Turn to page 339.
Ask Mr. Harding’s permission to clean the chair? Turn to page 340.

Page 339

You kneel obediently by the chair, silently, with your head down. Above you the conversation between Miss. Rose and Mr. Harding goes on, the two oblivious to your presence. The whole situation is acutely demeaning, and you begin to wonder if you are invisible.

Lose 1 Ambition point.

Eventually Mr. Harding rises from the chair, in order to demonstrate a clever cane technique he has observed (thankfully, not on your own bottom). You quickly kneel up and clean frantically, scrubbing away at stains and dusting down the upholstery. You have finished by the time Mr. Harding returns to the chair, inwardly breathing a sigh of relief.

What will you do now: Clean the carpets? Turn to page 336.
Clean the tables? Turn to page 335.

Page 340

“Please, sir,” you ask as soon as there is a gap in the conversation. “Might I clean the chair you are sitting upon?”

Miss. Rose gasps in horror. “How dare you interrupt the conversation of your betters, slave!” she thunders. “Especially for something so inconsequential as cleaning!”

“I’m sorry, miss,” you cry desperately.

The guest, Mr. Harding, clears is throat: “Perhaps, Miss. Rose, you can chasten this errant maid with your famous ‘Slut Thrasher’ – I have heard much of your skill with that weapon.”

“A good idea, Mr. Harding,” Miss. Rose agrees readily. “Insolence must never be tolerated!”

Will you: Accept your punishment mutely, and obediently? Turn to page 337.
Or claim that you were distracted by Mr. Harding’s incredible beauty? Turn to page 327.

Page 341

You pluck out lose fluff and feathers in the deep pile carpet with little difficulty. Only one section, where some red wax has dripped onto the floor, presents you with any trouble. But with determination you scratch and nibble at the wax until it has all gone, your labours totally unremarked by Miss. Rose and her guest.

Your cleaning duties finished, you silently lick Miss. Rose’s heals for a few minutes before crawling from the chamber.

Turn to page 342.

Page 342

At the end of a long day cleaning the mistresses’ quarters, you stagger back to the cleaner’s kitchens for dinner and rest. The kitchens are already full, and you can see that Laura is waiting for you, belt in hand, several of her lackeys standing menacingly by the chair from which she holds court.

“Back at last, are you?” she smirks. “Good. I wanted to fit one more beating in before bed. You and I had a bet on about the state of your bum after cleaning the mistresses chambers! Come here, turn around and bend over – let’s have a look at that arse!”

It is pointless to resist in front of so many of Laura’s diehard followers. Miserably you stand in front of Laura, twist and bend over, pushing your bottom out for her meticulous examination.

What is your Bum Status? If it is ‘Unblemished’ Turn to page 343.
If it is ‘Fiery’ or higher Turn to page 344.
Otherwise Turn to page 345.

Page 343

“Why – that arse is smooth and mark-free as a mistresses!” roars Laura. “You little creep! You must be so far up the mistresses arses it’s amazing we can see your feet!”

You wither in shame as the other girls look enviously upon you. Somehow you just don’t feel one of the girls without a few strokes across your bum…

Lose 1 Submission point.

“Well – a deal’s a deal,” shrugs Laura. “Eat quickly and then off to bed – there’s something special on tomorrow, and you’re going to be needing your sleep!”

“Yes, Laura,” you say, still upset at her belittling comments.

Turn to page 346.

Page 344

“Ha!” laughs Laura. “Look at her bum – lashed to ribbons. I’m amazed you can sit down! Well, a few more strokes should really ignite the flames. Your smouldering bottom will keep you up all night after this…”

Thwack!

Displaying not a shred of pity for your weakened state, Laura whips her beating belt across your sore bum-cheeks. It crosses the weals of your previous beating, making you howl in despair, shaking your head as you grip your knees with clawlike hands.

Thwack! Thwack!

You are not sure how many strokes she inflicts upon your tender bottom, but by the end of your tally you are a snivelling wreck, your bottom so hot and sore you don’t even want to touch it for fear it might burn your hands. Raise your Bum Status by 2 Levels.

“Goodnight, crybaby!” she jeers. “See you in the morning for more of the same!”

You are left alone in the kitchen to shiver and shake from your cruel ordeal.

Turn to page 346.

Page 345

Laura seems disappointed. “Looks like you got off lucky today – shame. But I promise you, tomorrow that bum of yours will be a smoking wreck. It’s going to be a very special day…”

Laura laughs menacingly, and kicks your bottom to encourage you to depart her presence. You do so happily, eating quickly before retiring to bed.

Turn to page 346.

Page 346

You stagger into your room – sleep the only thing on your mind.

If you have the Codewords LILLY or COCKTEASE Turn to page 347.

If not, Turn to page 348.

Page 347

In the middle of the night you are awoken by the sound of your door opening. Framed in doorway, punishment rod in hand, stands the Master’s Steward.

He looks upon you with barely disguised disgust. “The Master has summoned you for your punishment. Follow me, slave – the hour of dread has come…”

You gasp and tremble. So – it has finally come! How many sleepless nights have you suffered dreading this moment? A personal punishment from the Master!

Pausing only to slip on your maid’s uniform, you silently follow the Steward.

Turn to page 454.

Page 348

You have a peaceful night’s rest – your bottom glad for a chance to recover somewhat. Lower your Bum Status by 2 Levels.

There is a lot of activity in the cleaner’s kitchen this morning. Laura is actually out of her chair, giving personal directions to the cleaning staff, checking and double checking that everything is covered.

“Ah! New bitch!” she cries in greeting to you. “You and I are working together today … well … you’ll be working, at least. Today we clean the manor’s armoury. It’s a big job, and the Mistresses will be checking the result. Samantha, Linda, Gillian, Clarissa and Claire – you’re with us too. Move it girls! We don’t get paid by the hour!”

Ominously, Laura grabs her whipping belt from the cupboard to take with her – all the encouragement you need to get moving!

In a large gang you all make your way down dark, polished corridors, until you reach the grand doors of the armoury. The chamber beyond is enormous – filled with suits of armour and flags and banners. Traditional weapons are also present, fixed tightly to the wall so they cannot be removed – something you are thankful for in Laura’s presence.

The mops, polish, rags and other cleaning equipment are set up with great reverence and preparation. Most surprisingly, however, you can see that other items are being unpacked from the carry cases. Bottles of wine, baguettes, cheeses, olives and other delicious foodstuffs. Laura obviously intends this event to be a party, and for a moment your heart gladdens that you have been assigned to this duty. Perhaps Laura is beginning to like you?

“Gosh!” declares Laura. “What a lot of work this looks, eh? Scrubbing, polishing, mopping – we’ll be worn out!”

Her colleagues agree sadly as they survey the rows of dull and dusty armour.

“Well – don’t worry, because I’ve had a great idea!” she insists, and then turns to you, smiling wickedly. “Instead of us doing any work at all, let’s just make the new slut do it all for us! We’ll strip her naked, put her on a chain, and whip her whenever it looks like she’s slowing down – or in fact, just for fun. Meanwhile the rest of us can have a party whilst that poor bitch scrubs for us!”

Claire, Laura’s strongest supporter roars in agreement. “That’s a super idea, Laura – let’s let her do all the work!”

The other girls, long since bullied into obedience by Laura, agree, albeit less enthusiastically.

“But Laura!” you cry. “That’s not fair!”

“Tough!” spits Laura, putting her hands on her waist. “Because you’re going to do it, and thank me for it afterwards. And all the girls are going to get tipsy and stuff themselves on posh food except for you – because you’ll stink of polish and sweat! Also, even though you’ve done all the work, I’ll tell the Mistresses it was the rest of us that did it, whilst you slacked off and sulked in the corner. Then you’ll get a caning on top of all the bruises me and the girls are going to give you today!”

You can barely control your anger. Laura has brought all her mates with her so she can bully and humiliate you on your final day as a cleaning maid.

What will you do? Launch yourself at Laura and pummel her to the ground? Turn to page 349.
Tell the other girls that it’s time they all stood up to Laura? Turn to page 351.
Or swallow your anger, strip, and fall on your knees before her? Turn to page 350.

Page 349

You squeal with rage and hurl yourself at Laura, unable to control your anger. It is a hopeless exercise. Soon Claire and Samantha have pulled you off her, and drag you over to a nearby table for a beating.

Laura lashes your backside again and again, the other girls laughing as you sob at the bitter unfairness of it all.

Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!

Soon your bum is painted bright red, and a sense of hopelessness overcomes you. Raise your Bum Status by 3 Levels. The other girls succeed in pulling off your maid’s outfit, before hobbling you with ankle and neck chains, which restrict your movement to a painful crawl.

“Now, newbie – are you ready to work?” asks Laura with false politeness.

You can only nod and sniffle, almost unable to bear your shame.

Reduce your Dignity by 1.

Now Turn to page 366.

Page 350

You can only ponder the inner mysteries of your psyche that allow you to gain pleasure from such utterly cruel mistreatment – and yet your whole being longs to be abused by this petty tyrant and her bullying gang.

Trying to hold back your tears of shame, you pull off your maid’s outfit, standing taller, but naked compared to your bully. You avert your eyes and drop to your knees, looking only at her healed shoes as you address her meekly.

“I’ll do anything you say, Laura,” you choke.

“Yes,” says Laura, stroking your cheek in a rare moment of tenderness, “I know you will.”

Raise your Submission by 2 points.

Laura suddenly snaps her fingers, and Claire and Samantha rush to your sides, chains in hand. You legs are hobbled apart with ankle restraints separated by a bar of rough wood. An iron collar is snapped and locked around your neck, two chains dangling from it. One chain is held by Laura, the other is attached to the bar between your feet, locking you in a crawling position.

Laura raises her belt high above your quivering buttocks and snaps it down hard.

Thwap!

“Time to get working, bitch!” she smiles.

Now Turn to page 366.

Page 351

“Enough is enough!” you snap at Laura, before turning to your fellow cleaning slaves. “Why do we put up with this little tyrant? She does no work and makes all your lives a misery. I say that we make her do all the cleaning whilst we get tipsy on the wine!”

Laura laughs. “Fat chance, newbie,” she smirks. “Every one of these girls are in my pocket – they’ll do exactly as I say.”

“Is that true?” you demand angrily. “Some of you must have some spirit left! Let’s get rid of Laura – I’ll look after you all from now on. It’s got to be better than putting up with this pint-sized bitch! Who’s with me?”

If you have the codeword HONOUR Turn to page 352.
If you have the codeword LINDA Turn to page 353.
If you have the codeword GILLIAN Turn to page 354.
If you have the codeword SAMANTHA Turn to page 355.

If you have none of these codewords, read on.

There is a terrible, icy silence. Not one of the girls is willing to back you in your revolution. It suddenly dawns on you that you have no friends in the Cleaning department – they even prefer a tinpot bully like Laura to you.

Laura suddenly snaps her fingers, and Claire and Samantha rush to your sides, chains in hand. You are quickly stripped and your legs are hobbled apart with ankle restraints separated by a bar of rough wood. An iron collar is snapped and locked around your neck, two chains dangling from it. One chain is held by Laura, the other is attached to the bar between your feet, locking you in a crawling position.

Laura raises her belt high above your quivering buttocks and snaps it down hard.

Thwap!

“Time to get working, bitch!” she smiles.

Now Turn to page 366.

Page 352

Suddenly Clarissa steps forwards from the ranks of cowering cleaning slaves. “I’m with you!” she cries, before turning to her colleagues. “This girl saved me from the most atrocious whipping from Miss Rose – and took all the strokes herself, and plenty more besides. She didn’t ask for anything in return. I owe her, and I reckon she’ll be much better than Laura any day!”

You smile gratefully. That’s one person on your side at least! Note down on your sheet that Clarissa is your ally.

If you have the codeword LINDA Turn to page 353.
If you have the codeword GILLIAN Turn to page 354.
If you have the codeword SAMANTHA Turn to page 355.

If not, Turn to page 356.

Page 353

“Actually, this newbie’s not so bad,” admits Linda, stepping to your side. “I mean, when she first came here, before she became a slave or anything, she helped me lick up the puddles in the main hall. I reckon than any girl who’s willing to muck in like that has got to be worth more respect than Laura!”

You squeeze Linda’s hand in thanks, and look out to the rest of the crew.

If you have the codeword GILLIAN Turn to page 354.
If you have the codeword SAMANTHA Turn to page 355.

If not, Turn to page 356.

Page 354

To your surprise, Gillian steps forth. She has always been a close ally of Laura.

“Sorry Laura,” explains Gillian, “but actually I owe this stuck-up bitch a hand. You see she got me off a spanking, and probably worse, from that fat creep Mr. Sullivan. I always pay my debts, and it looks like this little milksop needs it repaid now.”

“Thanks,” you say, “I think…”

Laura seems to positively fume. It’s clear she wasn’t expecting Gillian to betray her.

If you have the codeword SAMANTHA Turn to page 355.

If not, Turn to page 356.

Page 355

Samantha looks meaningfully at you – and then breaks from Laura’s side.

Laura squeals in anger. “Don’t you dare, Samantha! Or Miss Rose will find out all about the shoes…”

Samantha spins round and glares at Laura. “You can’t blackmail me anymore, Laura! The new girl owned up to stealing the shoes, and took the whipping from Miss Rose for me! I owe her everything! Because now, at last, I’m free of you!”

Laura seems shocked and panicked as Samantha joins your side.

Turn to page 356.

Page 356

Have you managed to get enough support to overthrow the cruel Laura? To do so you will need at least 8 Support Points. Linda, Gillian and Clarissa each give you 2 Support points, and Samantha gives you 4. In addition you get an additional support point if you have the trait ‘Strong’, and another if you have an Ambition score of 8 or more.

Add up your Support Points. If you have 8 or more points Turn to page 357.
If you have 7 or fewer Turn to page 358.

Page 357

With your intimidating team behind you Laura trembles in fear. “Look, new girl, maybe I was wrong about you … why don’t we all work together! We’ll get this place clean in no time!”

“Sorry, Laura,” you smile wickedly. “It’s too late for that, am I right, girls?”

Your followers cheer you, whilst Laura is subtly deserted. Even Claire abandons her, realising that power has changed hands.

Soon your fate has become Laura’s. She crawls naked, in chains, around the armoury, desperately polishing the suits of armour, her own punishment belt harrying her backside when she slows. You and the girls relax in luxury, drinking wine and gossiping, taking turns to lash Laura into obedience. Your popularity seems much greater than that of the spiteful Laura, who is now a diminished figure, snivelling pathetically at each deserved swish of the lash.

The only effort you expend is that of keeping Laura on her toes – or rather knees. She is forced to clean each suit of armour by hand, and to thank each of her overseers politely at the end of each punishment. By the end of the day every suit of armour gleams in the light, Laura exhausted from the first labour she has had to perform for months. Her backside is bruised and red, each of the girls having enjoyed getting their own back on Laura’s insolent bottom.

If you have the trait ‘Sadistic’ you may add one to any attribute.

At the end of the day Mistress Jessica arrives to survey your ‘work’. “Impressive,” she admits, referring not only to the sparkling armoury, but the dishevelled, broken and chained form of Laura. “It seems you have excellent team building skills. Laura was a famed motivator of lazy slaves, although I disapproved of her personal sloth. In a very short time you seemed to have not only endured her, but replaced her as well. The Master will be informed.”

“Thank you, Mistress Jessica,” you reply, your cheeks crimsoning at the mention of the Master’s name.

You may add one Ambition point. You may also gain 4 Fame Points – the Master shall be impressed with your rise to power.

Mistress Jessica informs you that it is now time to abandon your cleaning duties and continue your education elsewhere. Kissing goodbye to your new friends, you depart with Mistress Jessica back to the Slave Hub.

Turn to page 216.

Page 358

“I’ll not stand for treason!” snarls Laura. “Get them, girls!”

There follows a desperate battle between you and your supporters and Laura and hers. Despite your disadvantage in terms of muscle you manage to hold off valiantly, although defeat seems to be inevitable.

During your struggle, locked in a desperate wrestle with Laura, the two of you roll into a suit of armour, the iron plates clattering from the stand to spread far and wide across the hall.

The battle instantly stops. “The armour!” gasps Laura. “The mistresses will have all our hides!”

Calling a truce you all work together to try and reassemble the armour back on the stand, but it proves to be an impossible task. The best you can do is to have it totter unevenly on the stand, such that even a gentle breeze could knock it back down.

“We’re all in trouble now,” mutters Linda. “This is a disaster!”

“Not necessarily…” muses Laura, looking thoughtfully at you. “Listen, new girl, this is serious. We’ll all be for the lash if the mistresses find out we were fighting in the armoury. We need someone to take the blame for the armour – and that person should be you.”

“Me?” you cry. “Why not you?”

“Don’t even go there – you don’t have the support to take me down, that much is obvious!” snaps Laura. “But you do have the power to save us girls from a lot of pain and suffering. You’ll get whipped either way, so you may as well take the whole blame for it.”

You consider this. “Let’s say I do as you ask? What do I get out of it?”

Laura pauses a moment, then says. “I’ll give you a good report in front of Mistress Jessica, that’s a promise.”

But can you trust her? Will you agree to own up to the armour accident? Turn to page 359.
Or will you insist on telling the truth? Turn to page 365.

Page 359

You are doubtful in the extreme that Laura has the capacity to keep to her word, but at least you are spared the humiliation of crawling around in chains for her. The collapsing armour has frightened all the girls into action, and you silently work together to get the whole hall looking spick and span.

Eventually two mistresses arrive, Miss Rose and Mistress Jessica. They are quick to spot the ramshackle armour, demanding an explanation.

Falling to your knees before them you confess to knocking the armour over in your eagerness to polish it, and beg their forgiveness and mercy.

Miss Rose, the lady mistress of cleaning, surveys you haughtily. “At least you had the courage to confess, even if you seem to lack any skill or grace at cleaning. Mercy is possible, but forgiveness is granted only by the cane!”

Mistress Jessica clears her throat. “With permission, Miss Rose,” she asks politely, even though as Supreme Mistress she has little need, “I would be happy to deliver the strokes for you. I have an interest in this new slave and am keen to see her progress.”

Your heart sinks – a caning by the supreme mistress in front of all your chums! What rotten luck.

“Of course, Mistress Jessica,” defers Miss Rose, lowering her head respectfully and passing her duty cane to the outstretched grasp of the Supreme Mistress. “I was to issue two dozen – but please feel free to modify the total in either direction.”

“I shall,” she smiles coldly, before turning to you. “Well, my clumsy little oaf, I think it’s time you proved your mettle. I shall whip you to your endurance, for the caning shall stop once you emit a cry of pain. A little grunt or whimper is acceptable, but anything loud will terminate your punishment. Let’s see if you can impress me?”

What a bizarre game! Clearly you could escape this caning with great ease, by crying out after only a few strokes. Is Mistress Jessica letting you off? Does she secretly know the truth about the tyrant Laura and your impossible position? Or is this yet another test of your character?

Mistress Jessica arranges you, naked, atop an old flat war chest. You kneel close to the edge of the box, with your hands reaching down far and flat to the floor, so that your bottom is the highest point on display, and your breasts swing upside-down below you.

What do you do? Give in after a puny dozen strokes – enough not to embarrass Mistress Jessica, but easily enough to tolerate? Turn to page 360.
Try to take as many strokes as you can, aware that Laura and the girls will be judging you? Turn to page 361.

Page 360

Vip! Vip! Vip!

Mistress Jessica lashes away at your backside as you silently count the strokes. Your position makes you feel acutely vulnerable, lacking, as it does, even the ability to fend off the strokes with your hand if needed. Mistress Jessica did not reach her lofty position through softness, and you sharply feel each stroke before surrendering.

“Ahh!” you cry theatrically on the twelfth cut, which nestles deeply into your bottom flesh before springing away, leaving the tell-tale red line. Raise your Bum Status by 2 Levels.

“A call out,” nods Mistress Jessica. “After only a dozen – how disappointing. I see the cleaner’s life has taught you little grit.”

“You whip so hard, miss!” you moan defensively.

“That much is true,” agrees Mistress Jessica. She turns to Laura, letting you endure the sting of your chastisement in your precarious position. “Well, Laura, besides this unfortunate incident, how do you rate the new cleaner’s performance?”

Laura considers a moment before saying: “She’s the laziest maid I’ve ever had the misfortune to work with miss. Me and the girls tried to whip some hard work into her – but even we couldn’t work miracles.”

You are aghast. Clearly Laura has not even a shred of honour – you have suffered for nothing.

“I expected as much,” nods Mistress Jessica. “The Master shall be informed. This, however, concludes her time amongst the cleaning staff.”

You suffer no further punishment – but neither will your fame increase in the house. Silently swearing revenge on the lying Laura, you are escorted back to the Slave Hub.

Turn to page 216.

Page 361

Vip! Vip! Vip!

Mistress Jessica lashes away at your backside as you bite down on your lower lip. Your position makes you feel acutely vulnerable, lacking, as it does, even the ability to fend off the strokes with your hand if needed. Mistress Jessica did not reach her lofty position through softness, and you sharply feel each stroke, wincing in pain at each new cruel slice layered into your bottom.

Vip! Vip! Vip!

If your Willpower is 4 or less Turn to page 362.
If your Willpower is 5, 6 or 7 Turn to page 363.
If your Willpower is 8 or more, Turn to page 364.

Page 362

To remain completely silent as you are so expertly punished is impossible. On the eleventh cut you cry out as a sharp cut takes you at the very top of your bum, just below the spine. Raise your Bum Status by 1 Level.

“A call out,” nods Mistress Jessica. “After only a dozen – how disappointing. I see the cleaner’s life has taught you little grit.”

“You whip so hard, miss!” you moan defensively.

You are aghast. Clearly Laura has not even a shred of honour – you have suffered for nothing.

“I expected as much,” nods Mistress Jessica. “The Master shall be informed. This, however, concludes her time amongst the cleaning staff.”

You suffer no further punishment – but neither will your fame increase in the house. Silently swearing revenge on the lying Laura, you are escorted back to the Slave Hub.

Turn to page 216.

Page 363

You ball your fists and bite onto your lower lip hard – but after two dozen strokes a loud snort escapes your nostrils as Mistress Jessica slices vertically into your bum crack, your bottom hole stinging painfully. Raise your Bum Status by 2 Levels.

“A call out,” nods Mistress Jessica. “You lasted two dozen, which seems acceptable for a girl of your lowly rank.”

“Thank you, miss,” you moan.

“You’re welcome,” smiles Mistress Jessica cattishly. She turns to Laura, letting you endure the sting of your chastisement in your precarious position. “Well, Laura, besides this unfortunate incident, how do you rate the new cleaner’s performance?”

You are aghast. Clearly Laura has not even a shred of honour – you have suffered for nothing.

“You surprise me,” says Mistress Jessica. “I shall take your word for it, but I suspect your own skills as a leader are more at fault that the weakness of your staff.”

Laura blushes bright red and looks at her toes. She has been publicly shamed by the Supreme Mistress!

“Come, slave,” she says to you. “Further training awaits you, no doubt.”

You suffer no further punishment – but gain only a little prestige for your time as a cleaning slave. Gain 1 Fate point. Silently swearing revenge on the lying Laura, you are escorted back to the Slave Hub.

Turn to page 216.

Page 364

You lock your body, clench your jaw, and endure stroke after stroke of Mistress Jessica’s pitiless cane. You surrender completely to your punishment, imagining that you are indeed guilty of the crime of damaging the Master’s armour, taking the suffering willingly into your body.

Beads of sweat begin to form on Mistress Jessica’s brow as she beats you harder and harder. Finally, after forty-eight punishing strokes, the caning stops. Raise your Bum Status by 4 Levels.

“Impressive,” grunts Mistress Jessica. “We shall stop there, I think. Your bottom is looking a trifle tender.”

“Thank you, miss,” you moan.

You are aghast. Clearly Laura has not even a shred of honour – you have suffered for nothing.

“You are lying,” says Mistress Jessica, and you can almost see the terrible shiver of horror rush down Laura’s spine. “I cannot accept that a slave who is so well trained as to accept unlimited punishment from me could possibly disappoint you. Miss Rose, I would like you to see to this cleaning slut’s punishment. A dozen strokes of the cane every night for the next week.”

“Yes Mistress,” bows Miss Rose, glaring with venom at Laura.

Laura blushes bright red and looks at her toes. She has been publicly shamed by the Supreme Mistress, and will soon face a week of chastisement! Such a display of righteous justice fuels your loyalty to the Mistresses and the Master. Add one to your Submission score.

“Come, slave,” she says to you. “Further training awaits you, no doubt.”

You suffer no further punishment – and gain some prestige for your time as a cleaning slave. Gain 2 Fate points. Silently following the cruel, but fair minded Mistress Jessica, you are escorted back to the Slave Hub.

Turn to page 216.

Page 365

Lined up, in a row, touching toes, the entire cleaning staff are judiciously whipped by the enraged Mistresses. Three dozen strokes of the cane each, with repeats for the slightest clench, call out or breaking of position, are broken across your collective backsides.

Beside you Laura weeps as Miss Rose executes a delicious chop to her tight underbuttocks. At the far end of the line Samantha cries out as Mistress Jessica slices into her fleshy behind.

Linda, Gladys and Clarissa all writhe under their respective strokes, and you no less than the others, brilliant scarlet track lines embedded into your flesh so that the whole hall is filled with female weeping.

Raise your Bum Status by 4 levels.

“Worthless sluts – the lot of you!” thunders Miss Rose. “It shames me to think such clumsy oafs serve the Master under my command. I see I have been too soft! From today I shall execute a series of random nightly punishments to remind you of the folly of disobedience!”

Mistress Jessica taps your bottom with her cane and orders you to rise and follow her. “Fortunately for you,” she says as she escorts you down the corridor, your hands clutched to your seared backside, “your time amongst the cleaners is over. Further challenges await you, no doubt.”

You gain 1 Fate Point.

Now Turn to page 216.

Page 366

The laughter of the other girls rings in your ears as you desperately scrub, clean and polish in your naked servitude. The girls do no work at all – except that, one by one, each takes your chains, and lashes your backside if you so much as pause for breath.

Tears fill your eyes from the cruel unfairness of your treatment. The girls openly spill wine and crumbs before you, lashing you until you clean up after them. Soon your fingers are aching from scrubbing, your knees sore from crawling, and your heavy chains are weighing you down. But most of all the fire in your backside, constantly stoked by the near constant lash of leather upon scarlet bum skin, wears you down until you reach of point of the most pathetic, grovelling surrender.

Lose 2 Ambition, Dignity and Willpower points, and raise your Bum Status by 4 Levels.

You have only just finished the whole hall when Mistress Jessica and Miss Rose come to check up on your ‘team’s progress. Upon seeing you crawling in chains, and beholding the smouldering state of your backside, Mistress Jessica laughs and applauds.

“Oh! Bravo, Laura – such invention!” she laughs, surveying your pitiful form. “We’ll make a Mistress of you yet!”

“Thank you, miss,” blushes Laura, smiling wickedly upon you.

Mistress Jessica stands haughtily tall above you. “Well, slave? Aren’t you going to thank Laura for motivating you so superbly?”

If your Submission is 8 or more Turn to page 367.
If not, read on.

Swallowing what is left of your pride, you crawl over to Laura and choke: “Thank you, Laura.”

“Any time, new bitch,” she smiles, lashing your backside one last time for good measure.

Mistress Jessica takes your chains. “I’ll lead her back like this, I think - let her wallow in her shame for a bit.”

Crawling on your hands and knees, you are led back to the Slave Hub, accompanied by the jeers of the other cleaning girls.

Turn to page 216.

Page 367

Something happens to you. Suddenly the vile shame of your surrender overcomes you, like a crashing wave of pleasure. You look upon the cruel Laura no longer as a tyrant but as a blissful, sharp goddess. You hurl yourself at her feet, kissing and lathering them, thanking her desperately for humiliating you. You applaud her skilful, brutal whipping, and thank her for her patient usage of your meagre skills. As you lick her heels in absolute surrender you orgasm powerfully, visibly writhing in joy.

Add 1 to any attribute of your choice.

“My goodness,” murmurs Mistress Jessica in awe as you climax at Laura’s feet. “If the Master doesn’t want this one, I do! What a perfect example of submission.”

Laura seems to falter at this description of you – it almost seems as if you have impressed Mistress Jessica. “But she’s a lazy oaf! A good for nothing…”

“All the better!” laughs Mistress Jessica. “It would give me better opportunity to force her to grovel. You’ll go far, new maid! Far – I tell you!”

Incredibly, through your failure you have snatched victory. Gain 3 Fame points as tales of your legendary grovelling spread through the house.

Mistress Jessica takes your chains. “I’ll lead her back like this, I think, let her wallow in her shame for a bit.”

Like an obedient puppy you follow close on Mistress Jessica’s heels, turning back to look at Laura with a sly smile on your face.

Turn to page 216.

Page 368

You wish to embark upon a course of Slave Training … but first you must find a Mistress who will have you…

Making enquires amongst the Master’s other slaves you hear of three Mistresses who are considering taking personal slaves:

Miss Rose – the terrifying martinet and the Master’s whipper extraordinaire. Miss Rose has a fierce reputation, but also an unsullied one. Any slave trained by her would gain considerable prestige.

Miss Nadine – the sensual and decadent Mistress, in charge of the Master’s legions of pleasure girls. Considered flippant and unreliable in some quarters, she has a poor reputation amongst the other Mistresses.

Mistress Jessica – the senior Mistress herself. Only the most famous and skilful slaves need apply, and she has a reputation of intense cruelty towards her charges. And yet … the fame that would follow from being her slave would be great…

Who will you apply to? Miss Rose? Turn to page 369.
Miss Nadine? Turn to page 372.
Mistress Jessica? Turn to page 378.
Or will you change your mind about Slave Training and do something else? Turn to page 216.

Page 369

You write a formal note to Miss Rose, begging for an audience.

If you have the Codeword HONOUR Turn to page 370.

If you have the Codeword PLUCK Turn to page 371.

If you have neither of these Codewords you receive a reply the very next day.

“Perhaps we have met before? If so you have not impressed yourself upon my imagination – and I do not take slaves on word-of-mouth. Find some lesser Mistress, for you shall not have me. Rose.”

You are appalled at being so slighted by Miss Rose, but there is little you can do but find someone else.

Who will you try? Miss Nadine? Turn to page 372.
Mistress Jessica? Turn to page 378.
Or will you change your mind about Slave Training and do something else? Turn to page 216.

Page 370

You receive a reply the very next day in Miss Rose’s beautiful, if sharp looking script:

“I remember you well, of course. You endured quite an ordeal from me simply to satisfy honour. Such dedication impresses me, although it is just the first step towards true obedience, of course. Meet me tomorrow. You shall call me ‘Mistress’, and I you ‘Slave’ until you are discharged. You are now my property. Rose.”

You are elated – and fearful. You have just agreed to be the servant of the cruellest beater in the house. You rub your bottom appreciatively – it is unlikely to be so welt-free for many weeks to come…

Turn to page 380.

Page 371

You receive a reply the very next day in Miss Rose’s beautiful, if sharp looking script:

“I was surprised to hear from you so soon after our last meeting. You endured quite an ordeal from me to take responsibility for another’s error. Such dedication impresses me, although it is just the first step towards true obedience, of course. Meet me tomorrow. You shall call me ‘Mistress’, and I you ‘Slave’ until you are discharged. You are now my property. Rose.”

Turn to page 380.

Page 372

Hearing that Miss Nadine despises formality and letter writing, you opt to visit her in the Guest’s Harem – a flesh shop for passing dream-guests to select their slave for the evening. Compared to the labours you have been through the Harem girls seem positively soft and decadent, vainly obsessing over their makeup and clothing before the dozens of full length mirrors in the plush Harem.

Miss Nadine is easy to spot, dressed almost comically in a too tight fitting corset and stockings, feather boas wrapped around her like beloved pets. She seems positively offended to see a lowly work slave in her beloved Harem.

“What are you doing here, drudge?” she sniffs airily, as if you have brought a stench in with you. “This is a lair of beauty! We will have no common slaves here!”

She is haughty in the extreme, and it is hard to suppress a smile at her preposterous airs and graces. “Please, miss,” you say. “I would be honoured if you would take me as your personal slave – to train me in the ways of the house, so that I might share in your dignity and wisdom.”

Even saying your well-rehearsed piece sounds foolish. Perhaps being Miss Nadine’s slave would do your reputation more harm than good?

Miss Nadine looks you up and down. “And why would I take someone like you as my personal slave?” she asks pointedly.

What do you do? Will you grovel at her feet, wooing her with your servile nature? Turn to page 373.
Perform a catwalk stage show to demonstrate your impeccable grace? Turn to page 375.
Or, having now met her personally, abandon the idea of taking her as your mistress? Turn to page 216.

Page 373

You fall to your knees and beg Miss Nadine shamelessly, promising to fulfil her every whim without a moment’s hesitation.

If your Submission is 6 or more Turn to page 374.
If not, read on.

“I have no time for such crawling toads as you!” she sneers. “Be gone! And trouble us Mistresses no more with your loathsome begging!”

Dejected, you scurry from the room before she decides to add to your misery with a whipping!

Turn to page 216.

Page 374

Miss Nadine considers you carefully. “Well – perhaps you show some promise. It would be good to have a fawning little worm like you by my side. A woman has to care for her prestige after all. Very well! You are now my property. From now on I shall call you ‘Slave’ and you shall call me ‘Mistress’. I’m to busy for you now. Return tomorrow to begin your training with me.”

“Thank you, miss!” you enthuse, quickly scurrying out of the chamber before she changes her mind.

Turn to page 380.

Page 375

Asking Miss. Nadine to indulge you a brief moment you scamper past the pleasure slaves and head to the dress racks. Realising you do not have much time you strip and dress yourself up glamorously in a sparkling sequin dress, killer shoes and a large brimmed hat. As confidently as possible you stride up and down the catwalk to an imaginary tune in your head.

If your Dignity is 5 or more, Turn to page 376.
Otherwise, read on.

“What do you think you are doing, girl?” thunders Miss. Nadine. “The dress sags on you, the shoes don’t match and that hat is awful! I’m embarrassed for you! Get those clothes off and get out!”

Fearing your bottom may pay the price of any further failure you quickly obey, deciding that slave training might not be your cup of tea after all…

Turn to page 216.

Page 376

Miss Nadine laughs joyously. “My! What grace! What statuesque beauty! I had heard you were a remarkable slave, of course, but I did not expect such exquisite and lady-like skill. It would be a pleasure to have you as my slave, to use as I will. I will be quite the envy of all the Mistresses in the manor! You are now my property. From now on I shall call you ‘Slave’ and you shall call me ‘Mistress’. I’m to busy for you now. Return tomorrow to begin your training with me.”

“Thank you, miss!” you enthuse, quickly scurrying out of the chamber before she changes her mind.

Turn to page 380.

Page 377

A brief flicker of relief crosses Miss Rose’s face – you’ve saved her from a difficult situation. “Very well,” she decrees, “you shall be thrashed – then shamed. Perhaps this shall encourage you to keep your worthless opinions to yourself in future?”

You drop your head in shame. “Yes, miss,” you demur.

“Over Mr. Harding’s knee, slave,” barks Miss. Rose. “He can enjoy close up the work I shall do upon that lazy backside of yours.”

Your eyes flash at the thought of going over the knee of the handsome Mr. Harding. If only he was spanking you, rather than the cruel Miss. Rose!

“We shall see,” smiles Mr. Harding, removing his hand from your buttocks to present Miss. Rose with a clear target.

Thwap!

Thwap! Thwap! Thwap!

Thwap! Thwap!

You writhe and hiss like a cat as the Slut Thrasher continues to lash into your scarlet globes. You beat the floor with your fists and bounce your backside high on Mr. Harding’s lap. The terrible whipping brings tears to your eyes, but at last it is over, leaving you with whip-kissed cheeks. Raise your Bum Status by 3 levels. With your punishment over only your shaming remains. Mr Harding has you bound naked over a chair back, you backside sticking helplessly out, completely vulnerable. Your limbs are tied to the chair legs, making escape impossible.

“Miss Rose, see to it that this wench is given The Mark of Shame, so that all may know she opened her bum hole for a man’s pleasure.”

“Of course, Mr. Harding,” says Miss Rose. “It would only be proper that the other girls know of this slave’s appalling perversions.”

“A fine bum!” he cries. “A shame your Master does not allow such access at will, I’d shame every slut he owns! Get this filthy maid from my sight – she is of no further use to me.”

Miss Rose releases you coolly, and returns your maid’s outfit – but with a new addition. A large, black rosette is now sewn on to it – The Mark of Shame.

If you already have the Mark of Shame, Turn to page 331.

Otherwise you thank Miss Rose and Mr. Harding and swiftly exit the chamber.

Turn to page 342.

Page 378

As the Master has assigned Mistress Jessica as your spiritual guide it is easy to make a proposition to her.

In the Spartan chambers of the Slave Hub you drop to your knees before Mistress Jessica. “Miss – I’ve heard you seek a slave to be your own? I beg you to take me, and teach me all you can about obedience.”

Mistress Jessica surveys you critically.

If your fame is 15 or more Turn to page 379.
If not, read on.

“It would demean me to take such an inconsequential creature as yourself,” declares Mistress Jessica, horrified. She strikes you across the cheek with the back of her hand. “You are a worm, and will always be one. Choose another, lesser, mistress.”

Lose 1 point of Ambition.

Choking back the tears you consider your options:

Who will you apply to? Miss Rose? Turn to page 369.
Miss Nadine? Turn to page 372.
Or will you change your mind about Slave Training and do something else? Turn to page 216.

Page 379

Mistress Jessica smiles. “I shall take you,” she says slyly. “For it is wise to keep your enemies closer than your friends…”

“I … I am not your enemy, miss!” you protest.

Mistress Jessica’s eyes flash. “You may fool the others – but I can see an ambitious, ruthless up and coming mistress a mile off! Perhaps you shall achieve your dream? But I assure you, you shall never displace me. This training shall be a good lesson for you, for it will teach you to wince as I pass by and to obey my orders without question! You are now my property. From now on I shall call you ‘Slave’ and you shall call me ‘Mistress’. I’m to busy for you now. Return tomorrow to begin your training with me.”

“Yes, miss,” you whimper, trembling as you watch the Supreme Mistress smile wickedly before exiting the hub.

This will be all or nothing – eternal glory or everlasting shame…

Turn to page 380.

Page 380

With no costume prescribed for your coming training, you put on the kitchen rags you wore during your first duties in the house. A messenger from your new mistress curtly informs you to wait in the glass house, a luxurious extension to the manor positioned with a glorious view across the gardens. The gardening slaves, beautiful, quiet slave girls who meekly tend the Master’s land away from the constant pressures of the house, dig and weed silently, occasionally risking a glance through the glass walls towards you. Pity fills their eyes … perhaps they have seen other slaves assigned to this room before, and know the trials that await you.

In addition to the soft velvet couches, chairs and padded stools, a proud array of punishing implements line the wall above the fireplace. Canes, whips, paddles, tawses, as well as restraints of all kinds, glimmer with polish and care – a virtual treasure house of punishment.

The autumnal sun is enough to heat the glass house somewhat uncomfortably, and you wonder if you should open some of the windows. Fearing provoking any retribution, you instead opt to stand, hands behind your head, and wait patiently for your mistress to arrive.

As the hours tick by, and early morning breaks into early afternoon, you observe the spoiled guests of the house emerge to take in the pleasures of the garden. Some of them lead naked slaves of their own, leashes attached round their necks, crawling on all fours like obedient puppies – others are happy to take their pick of the gardening slaves, who are obliged to obey the guests’ slightest whims.

The sound of the door opening returns you to your senses, and you tense as you hear your mistress enter the glass house.

“Devilishly warm today,” she says airily as she considers your posture.

If your Dignity is 5 or less, Turn to page 381.
If your Dignity is 7 or less and your mistress is Mistress Jessica, Turn to page 381.

“But at least you haven’t succumbed to idleness and slouching,” she continues. “Most slaves quickly forget themselves if they think no one is watching. That is why I always train my slaves here. A public audience brings out the best in them.”

Turn to page 382.

Page 381

“But that is no excuse for slouching!” she sneers.

Slouching? You were aching with strain of being still! Clearly, your deportment was not sufficient for your callous mistress…

“Over the back of the lounger, slave,” she hisses. “Make sure your bottom is on open display to the guests! It is right that they should see how slovenliness is dealt with…”

Blushing at being caught out in the first few seconds of your training, you quickly obey, throwing yourself over the back of the velvet sofa. In a flash, your mistress pulls the elegant, red leather tawse from above the fireplace and proceeds to lash your displayed buttocks with warming vigour.

Snap! Snap! Snap!

“Absolutely still, or it’s a dozen extra!” barks your mistress, in response to the little clenches you make with your lashed bum cheeks.

Snap! Snap! Snap!

If your Submission is not at least 5 you find it impossible to remain so stoically still, clenching in anticipation as your mistress strokes your bottom. “Insolence!” she booms, before awarding you with the threatened dozen extra strokes. Raise your Bum Status by 1 Level.

The thrashing is a straightforward affair – by now you have endured far worse. But the acutely public nature of the whipping preys upon your mind. You are sure you can hear the guests outside the glass house laughing at you. They have reason to … such an early failure is acutely embarrassing. Raise your Bum Status by 2 Levels and lose 1 Dignity point.

“Rise – and return to your previous pose,” commands your mistress. “I don’t have to remind you not to touch your bottom on risk of further strokes, do I?”

“No, mistress,” you assure her, returning to the centre of the room, placing hands upon your head. Your back is ruler straight, your stinging bottom reminding you of the need for grace at all times.

Turn to page 382.

Page 382

Your mistress, garbed in shining black leather, walks gracefully over to the fireplace, running her hands over the punishment implements. “I rather like the weapons in the glass house,” she muses. “Finely made, sharp and impersonal. A mistress should be flexible with every device of correction, and not become too attached to her favourites. The same is true of slave training. Although I shall be your guide to absolute subservience, you must grow used to anyone giving you instruction, and obey them without thinking. As a mere slave, your own opinions no longer count. You do not obey out of glory, or love, but because you must.”

If you wish you may take your mistresses’ words to heart. If so, reduce your Ambition by 1 point but raise your Submission by 1 point.

Your belly gives a flutter as you see your mistress select a long, straight cane. Its handle is decorated and comfortable, it’s length polished, thin and sharp.

“Positions,” she says, a wicked grin crossing her face. “Every slave must learn the correct positions for a formal whipping. Most mistresses do not use them, but the formal positions are common amongst some guests, who like to trick a girl into failure. Learning these positions by heart will save you much agony – not least from me. First, discard your rags, and stand naked before me.”

You suspected such an instruction was coming. Soon your filthy kitchen garb is bunched by your ankles, and you stand fearfully nude before the cane-armed mistress.

If your Mistress is Miss Rose, Turn to page 383.
If not, read on.

“Position One, slave! And be quick.”

You pause … you expected your mistress to at least tell you which position is which before you began. Apparently you are to be granted no such luxury. You are sure to be punished if you hesitate, and have nothing to lose by guessing.

What position shall you adopt?

Bending right over and touching your toes? Turn to page 384.
Lying on your back and raising your legs straight into the air? Turn to page 385.
Bending over halfway to grasp your knees? Turn to page 386.

Page 383

Miss Rose is the arch-punisher of the manor. She considers it a point of pride to lash a girl to her limit, and her skills with the cane are legendary. Whenever you are asked to Raise your Bum Status due to a whipping by Miss Rose, raise your Bum Status by an extra level.

Now turn back to 382.

Page 384

“Wrong,” smiles your mistress, “but hold position.”

You hear the swish of her cane as it descends upon you…

Turn to page 387.

Page 385

“Wrong,” smiles your mistress, “but hold position.”

You hear the swish of her cane as it descends upon you…

Turn to page 387.

Page 386

You bend over and grasp your knees, the heat of the room causing beads of perspiration to drip down your naked body as you push your bottom out.

“This is the correct position,” your Mistress intones. “And now a dozen strokes of the cane to reinforce it in your mind…”

Vip! Vip! Vip!

You cannot help but grunt softly as your mistresses cane sinks into your proffered bum. You remind yourself that you must maintain position exactly if you hope to avoid repeats…

Vip! Vip! Vip!

If your Submission is 4 or less, you twinge at the impact of a particularly stinging shot that nestles in your bum crease. Your mistress has no intention of letting you off lightly, awarding you with the traditional extra six strokes for wriggling. Raise your Bum Status by 1 level.

Vip! Vip! Vip!

You moan through your last few strokes, relived that at least this portion of your suffering is at an end. Raise your Bum Status by 1 Level.

Now Turn to page 388.

Page 387

Vip! Vip! Vip!

Your mistress whips you cruelly in your incorrect position, thrashing you for your unfair failure.

Vip! Vip! Vip!

If your Willpower is not at least 5 you cry out at the indignity, pointlessly begging for mercy since you had never been told the correct position. “Ignorance is no excuse – an extra six for whinging,” declares your mistress. Raise your Bum Status by 1 Level.

Vip! Vip!

A full dozen strokes paint your clenching backside before your mistress informs your of the correct position. “Stand up, bend over, hold your knees, bottom out,” she yells with rapid-fire instructions. Fearing another unfair thrashing, you quickly obey.

Raise your Bum Status by 2 Levels and Turn to page 386.

Page 388

“Position four,” commands your mistress. “Quickly now!”

What could position four be? Kneeling down, hands behind back, breasts pushed out? Turn to page 389.
Lying on back, holding the backs of your knees with your hands? Turn to page 390.
Bent over, touching toes, legs straight? Turn to page 391.

Page 389

You kneel down confidently, trapping your hands behind your back, pushing your trembling breasts out for your mistress to target.

“Wrong,” she smiles. “But hold position…”

You quiver in terror as you watch your mistress line up her cruel cane, still warm from your stinging bottom, against your nipples. With a firm set jaw she pulls the cane back and whips down with a terrific crack.

Vip!

You cannot help but cry out as her all too accurate shot snaps against your nipples, a perfect tram line of red connecting the two blazing cherries.

Vip! Vip!

Your breasts bounce under the cruel bombardment of six strokes, which leave your whimpering and crying. Reduce your Willpower by 1. (If you have the weakness ‘Not my tits!’ reduce your Willpower by 3).

“Most enjoyable,” your mistress grins as she watches you fight the urge to grab your sore tits. “But position four is lying on back, legs clasped under the backs of the knees. Kindly adopt this position now, before I practice my aim on those gorgeous breasts of yours again.”

Anything but that! You quickly obey.

Turn to page 390.

Page 390

“That is now the correct position,” intones your mistress, towering above you as you look up on her from the floor. “Normally this is done on a table or bed. You’re rather low down, so your whipping will have to be administered vertically. Legs wide open, slave. Have no fear – the master forbids any direct shots to a girls ‘lady place’, although accidents do happen.”

Your mistress smiles wickedly.

If your mistress is Mistress Jessica, Turn to page 392.
If your mistress is Miss Nadine, Turn to page 393.
If you mistress is Miss Rose, Turn to page 394.

Page 391

“Wrong,” smiles your mistress. “But hold position…”

Your heart sinks as you hear the cane descend. Another unfair whipping!

Vip! Vip! Vip!

Your bottom jerks and dances under a series of rapid-fire cuts of the cane, your mistress whipping you with a speed unfamiliar to you.

Vip! Vip! Vip!

If your Willpower is not at least 7 such a fast whipping feels unbearable. In agony you clutch your scalding buttocks, the knuckles of your hands rapped heavily for your trouble as your mistress shoes them away. “From the start again, Slave!” she hisses delightedly. Raise your Bum Status by 2 levels.

Vip! Vip! Vip!

Your whole punishment is finished in less than ten seconds, and your bottom feels on fire! Raise your Bum Status by 2 levels.

“Your incompetence is trying, slave!” she snarls, weakening your confidence. Lose 1 Ambition point. “Position four is lying on back, legs clasped under the backs of the knees. Kindly adopt this position now!”

Her tone leaves you little option – you willingly obey, your fiery cheeks wincing as they touch the floor…

Turn to page 390.

Page 392

Mistress Jessica locks eyes with you, eyeing you like a shark. Without even seeming to aim, she slashes the cane down … right between your legs.

You shriek as the cane cuts into your open sex! You are almost overcome with shock, but Mistress Jessica’s eyes still burn into yours, keeping you acutely aware of her power over you.

“Ooops,” she says softly. “Looks like I missed…”

The cane flashes down again … into the same place.

Vip! You cry out throatily, the sharp sting between your legs watering your eyes.

Do you: Complain that she is breaking the rules of the Master? Turn to page 395.
Or doggedly remain silent, refusing to rise to her? Turn to page 396.

Page 393

Mistress Nadine begins to cane your reddened cheeks merrily, snapping the end of the cane down sharply into the fattest parts of your buttocks. As she is nearly finished she suddenly appears distracted … she waves to a guest through the glass window, unaware that her cane is dangerously off target…

You squeal as the cane tip snaps into your sex, against the pulsing nub of your clitoris. The sting quite brings tears to your eyes.

“Oh dear!” cries Miss Nadine. “Bad luck, slave – but that position always brings risks. I obviously need to practice on you a little more!”

Her chirpy humour does not impress you and shakes your confidence in her. Reduce your Submission by 1, and raise your Bum Status by 1 level.

Now Turn to page 399.

Page 394

You have nothing to fear – Miss Rose is as unerringly accurate as ever.

Vip! Vip! Vip!

Your wealed buttocks begin to resemble a noughts and crosses board, as Miss Rose decorates your arse with perfect vertical lines. She truly is a master of the cane!

Vip! Vip! Vip!

You dare not move and put off her aim, and you learn well in your vulnerable position the requirement of total trust and submission to your mistress’s will. Raise your Bum Status by 1 level, and gain 1 Submission point.

Now Turn to page 399.

Page 395

“Rules? Ha!” she mocks. “A true mistress makes her own rules, and a true slave obeys. But since you can’t be trusted to keep your mouth shut, put this between your teeth!”

She reaches up to the whip rack and removes a short wooden bit, numerous teeth marks embedded into its shaft, and throws it contemptuously next to your head.

“That should silence you whilst I lash your lady place!”

What will you do? Bite down on the bit and hold position whilst Mistress Jessica lashes you? Turn to page 397.
Rise from your position and declare your slave training over! Turn to page 398.

Page 396

You say nothing. You would not give Mistress Jessica the satisfaction. It is obvious that she seeks to break you, or she would not try anything so desperate. Your courage is costly, however…

Vip! Vip!

The cane lashes down between your legs with cruel intent. Mistress Jessica is concentrating now, aiming carefully as she whips your sex.

Vip! Vip!

Two more strokes, and you cry out – but do not object. Mistress Jessica fixes you with a cruel glare, and considers her target. Wrestling with her conscience, she finally decides she can whip you there no more.

“Impressive, slave!” she concedes. “But we’re not done yet.”

Raise your Ambition by 1 point, but lose 1 point of Willpower and Dignity (your waddling stride over the next few days does nothing for your poise).

Turn to page 399.

Page 397

You close your eyes and bite down, grasping the backs of your knees with a dead-man’s grip. You squeal through your nose as Mistress Jessica lashes your sex, the cruel tip slicing in, right against the nub of your clitoris.

Six strokes in all, six terrible strokes, leave your eyes streaming and jaw aching. Lose 1 point of Ambition, Willpower and Dignity.

“What do you say?” demands Mistress Jessica patronisingly.

Spitting out your gag, you oblige her. “Thank you, mistress…”

Turn to page 399.

Page 398

You rise to your feet, snarling at your tormentor. “I came to learn, not be tortured! Stuff you, miss!”

Mistress Jessica laughs, and claps her hands together. “I could give you six dozen for such impertinence. But instead something far crueller and more damaging awaits you. My bad word. Forget any hopes of promotion now, wench! I win!”

You push past her, refusing to rise to her. But alas, she is true to her word. The bad reference of the supreme mistress weighs heavily against you. Lose 5 Fame Points.

Now Turn to page 216.

Page 399

“And now position six, for an encore,” smiles your mistress.

What could that be? Standing, legs wide apart, palms on the floor, head looking through your legs? Turn to page 400.
On your knees, hands behind back, breasts thrust out? Turn to page 401.
Remain on your back, but stick your legs high into the air and hold them? Turn to page 402.

Page 400

“A beautiful position, but, alas, wrong,” coos your mistress. “Hold position now – the customary dozen strokes for error is approaching.”

You can see it approach. From your unwisely chosen position, head hanging upside down between your legs, you can see your mistress take careful aim, step back, raise her arm high, only to step forwards and lash your cringing buttocks with full force.

Vip!

You emit a cry, louder than normal, the terrible visual tension of seeing your punishment adding to your terror.

Vip! Vip!

If your Submission is not at least 6, you cannot help but cringe somewhat as a particularly cruel stroke homes in on you. The blow misses, mostly, just striking your left buttock hard. This infuriates your mistress, who clearly feels her artistic integrity has been compromised by your shifting. Extra strokes are soon delivered. Raise your Bum Status by 1 Level.

Vip! Vip!

After your telling dozen you begin to be thankful that most of your previous strokes have taken you by surprise. Viewing your own punishment, upside down, is an unnerving experience. Raise your Bum Status by 1 level.

“Now, slave. Kindly adopt position six. Kneel down, hands behind back, tits out. Now, please!”

You swallow as you hear the instruction. This is going to hurt…

Turn to page 401.

Page 401

“That’s right,” smiles your mistress. “A tit caning. Never a very pleasant thing to endure, but a lot of the guests seem to like it. That means you must grow to love it. The sight of a slave girl’s bouncing, lashed breasts is a beautiful thing.”

She taps the cane smartly against your presented bosoms, the polished wood impacting just below the nipples. You swallow and try to remain still as the cane slides from side to side against your sensitive, now erect nipples.

“I find a breast caning improves a girl’s obedience no end – should even work on a pig-headed slave like you,” she muses, as she pulls the cane back.

You shut your eyes tightly and push your bosom forward – no point in cowering back now!

Vip!

You grunt as the cane lashes you just below your nipples, into your breasts’ fullest swell, as the appalling sting rises your mistress watches your tits bounce under the impact. She laughs lightly, before lashing down again.

Vip!

You cry out to a stroke that impacts across both nipples, a blazing ridge of fire connecting the two fiery points of pain. It is a cruel caning.

Vip! Vip!

You cannot help but rock and jump, your breasts bouncing and swaying beneath you, as your mistress expertly plies her cane. Your breasts are soon criss-crossed with flaming red cane lines, from the top of your cleavage to the heaving, soft lower breast tissue. You did not expect your mistress to issue you a full dozen, but she does, and all you can do is howl out at her cruel expertise. Reduce your Willpower by 2 points, (or 4 points if you have the weakness ‘Not My Tits!’.)

If you have the trait ‘Busty’ you may add 1 Fame Point. The guests outside in the garden are sure to take the time to observe your magnificent breasts bouncing under their bombardment. Such a sight is sure to become a local legend around the manor.

Suppressing the urge to weep and cradle your fiery tits you remain still as your mistress caresses your stinging orbs with her cruel cane. The sense of relief you feel as she finally places the horrid cane back above the fireplace is almost overwhelming.

“Now we have established out mutual places you may follow me to our chamber,” says your mistress lightly, as if you had just merely conducted a jovial business meeting. “Whilst in my service you shall remain naked, and when following must crawl after me. Come along, slave – for your training has only just begun…”

Your mistress turns on her heel and marches out of the room, leaving you to scamper after her, your flaming red bottom and breasts wobbling as you go.

Turn to page 403.

Page 402

“Wrong, wrong, wrong! Stupid girl!” spits your mistress. “You may as well hold position, but keep your legs together!”

You curse yourself – if only you had learned the secret submission positions earlier in your service! Your mistress levels her cane against the vulnerable backs of your thighs. This mistake will cost you!

Vip!

“Uh!” you cry in shock and pain. You haven’t been caned on the thighs before … how infinitely better it is on the bottom, despite its current beaten state.

Vip! Vip! Vip!

Rhythmically, and without a trace of pity, you mistress carries out your sentence on the backs of your legs. She doesn’t really expect you to keep still, and indeed you don’t, your legs flailing and knees bending at every few strokes. Although your bottom is spared, the humiliation of taking your beating so badly in front of the laughing, pointing guests is mortifying. Reduce your Dignity by 1.

After twelve stinging strokes your mistress addresses you again. “Now, slave. Kindly adopt position six. Kneel down, hands behind back, tits out. Now, please!”

You swallow as you hear the instruction. This is going to hurt…

Turn to page 401.

Page 403

So begins your slave training. You are kept naked in your mistress’s chambers, her plaything to command, humiliate or beat as she chooses. You are taught the rituals of submission, sleeping at the foot of her bed, feeding her, begging for scraps. You eat and drink from a dog bowl, are routinely chained up in humiliating positions, and thrashed for the smallest act of defiance or free will.

Who is your mistress? Miss Rose? Turn to page 404.
Mistress Jessica? Turn to page 405.
Miss Nadine? Turn to page 406.

Page 404

To have the supreme martinet as your mistress is to invite disaster upon your bottom. Over many weeks Miss Rose constantly sees to your backside, her famous ‘Slut Thrasher’ kissing your bottom daily. Every morning begins with a thrashing, and every evening ends with another. Miss Rose is a perfectionist, and makes every session a scalding test of endurance. To even think about defying this graceful, merciless woman would be an act of madness.

Raise your Bum Status by 3 levels, and add 2 to your Submission score.

Now Turn to page 407.

Page 405

Your relationship with Mistress Jessica is a terrifying one. She wishes only to break you. In addition to regular thrashings, carried out with passion and a vindictive clench of her jaw, she frequently humiliates you before the other slaves and mistresses. You are made to yap like a puppy in public, or she has you tied up, legs wide open in the public gallery, so the viewing guests can view your shame. Her power over you is total, and she belittles you often as ‘a worthless and disobedient worm’ no matter how well you behave.

Reduce your Ambition by 1.

Turn to page 407.

Page 406

You wouldn’t admit it to her, but your life with Miss Nadine is actually rather easy. True, you must put up with her changeable temper and occasional thrashings, but she is a rather uninventive mistress – and any humiliations she heaps upon you she does in the privacy of her chambers. At night, as she snores herself to sleep, you frequently sneak out of her room for late night gatherings with the other slaves, bringing wine from her personal collection as a gift. You are never caught, and indeed Miss Nadine does not even seem to notice the theft! This training is looking easy!

Lower you Bum Status by 2 levels and add 1 Willpower point.

Turn to page 407.

Page 407

One day your mistress decides to take you out in public. You are in the gardens, kneeling naked at your mistresses’ feet as she takes tea with Miss Kara, the mistress of the dance. About you slave maids in their pretty though too short black and white uniforms serve tea and cakes, fastidiously pouring and serving – knowing that a single error could end them over the knee of a slighted guest or mistress. Your own mistress commands them to simply leave the tea unserved – it will be you who will pour the tea for your mistress and her guest.

Obediently you rise, gripping the teapot by the handle.

If your Dignity is 5 or lower Turn to page 408.
If your Dignity is 7 or lower and your mistress is Mistress Jessica, Turn to page 409.
Otherwise Turn to page 410.

Page 408

The teapot is rather delicate, the spout set somewhat low. Drinking from a dogbowl for so many weeks has eroded your courtesy, and you slosh the tea wildly, half the contents spewing over the side of the cup into the saucer.

“Clumsy worm!” spits your mistress. “You have humiliated me before my guest!”

You are mortified. “I’m so sorry mistress! Please, punish me at once!”

“Do not think I will not!” she cries, immediately pulling you across her lap.

Smack! Smack! Smack!

Enraged, she simply spanks your bottom before the other guests, eager to regain some prestige through her heavy slaps to your bum that she lost by association with such a clumsy slave. Halfway through your punishment she slips off a shoe, unhappy at the damage she has already inflicted upon your rosy cheeks, and snaps the sole hard upon your unhappy arse.

Splat! Splat! Splat!

Although she uses no weapons her anger and humiliation alone lend her the strength to make a good impact upon your hardened cheeks. Raise your Bum Status by 2 levels.

Unceremoniously pushing you from her lap you grovel at her feet for forgiveness. She ignores you, returning to her conversation with Miss Kara – this time pouring her own tea!

Turn to page 411.

Page 409

You pour the tea with great care, holding down the top of the pot in case of a sudden spillage, and pouring as gracefully as you can. Mistress Jessica seems unimpressed.

“You pour tea like a lorry driver!” she snaps. “Have you never made tea before?”

Miss Kara looks surprised. “It seemed confidently done, Mistress Jessica – perhaps somewhat overcautious…”

“Overcautious? She held the pot like it was a viper ready to strike! Over my knee, girl! I’ll have perfection from you or nothing!”

You are pulled over the knee of the supreme mistress. Her justice is summery.

Smack! Smack! Smack!

Enraged, she simply spanks your bottom before the other guests, eager to regain some prestige through her heavy slaps to your bum that she lost by association with you. Halfway through your punishment she slips off a shoe, unhappy at the damage she has already inflicted upon your rosy cheeks, and snaps the sole hard upon your unhappy arse.

Splat! Splat! Splat!

Although she uses no weapons her anger and humiliation alone lend her the strength to make a good impact upon your hardened cheeks. Raise your Bum Status by 2 levels.

Unceremoniously pushing you from her lap you grovel at her feet for forgiveness. She ignores you, returning to her conversation with Miss Kara – this time pouring her own tea!

Turn to page 411.

Page 410

With confidence and skill you pour the tea with all the grace of a geisha. Despite the tricky design of the pot you pour steadily and confidently, such that neither mistress can find even the smallest fault.

Unthanked, you replace the pot, and return to your mistresses feet as she continues her discussion with Miss Kara.

Turn to page 411.

Page 411

You sit in the gentle sun at your mistresses’ feet, attentive for the smallest command, but respectfully ignoring the topic of her conversation with Miss Kara. A few minutes later Miss Kara excuses herself, saying she has to consult one of the guests on a dance requested, promising to return in a few minutes.

Your mistress waits until Miss Kara has gone, then reaches over and takes a bite from her departed guest’s scone! Such a lapse of manners! Your mistress looks down on you and smiles whilst she munches, but says nothing. A few minutes later she replaces the scone, a large chunk missing from its body.

Shortly after Miss Kara returns, seating herself gracefully. It does not take her long to spot the half-eaten scone. “My scone!” she cries in despair, as if someone had killed her cat. “Who would dare … what has happened to it? Who did this?”

Miss Kara looks outraged, but your mistress says nothing.

Do you: Say nothing? Turn to page 412.
Claim that you ate the scone? Turn to page 413.
Admit that your mistress ate the scone? Turn to page 414.

Page 412

Miss Kara looks savagely between yourself and your mistress. “Well? Who was it? I’ll flay them alive!”

“I’m afraid I did not see,” lies your mistress. “Doubtless one of the maid slaves, their greed and laziness are legendary.”

Miss Kara does not look at all pleased with this explanation, but accepts it, drinking the rest of her tea in silence.

On the way back from the garden, crawling on all fours after your mistress, she commands you to stop beneath a portrait of the Master.

“You must serve me as you do him,” she announces proudly, pointing at the portrait. “Through your silence you have caused a scandal – some may doubt my honour through your inaction…”

Outrageous! She was the thief, not you! “But miss,” you cry, “I had no orders!”

“Which is why I shall not punish you,” she smiles. “Except to tell the other mistresses you cannot be trusted, regardless of what other talents you possess. Come, it is getting late.”

You hang your head – it was a test of loyalty! You failed.

Turn to page 415.

Page 413

Miss Kara cannot control her fury. “You thieving slut!” she thunders. “You, a lowly slave, dare to steal the scone of a mistress!”

“I don’t know what came over me!” you cry, genuinely confused as you sneak a glance at your blank-faced mistress.

“I demand permission to punish this wonton robber!” she shrieks, a small crowd gathering around, the scene she is making quite outrageous.

“Of course,” nods your mistress. “You may punish her as you see fit. She is a lazy and disrespectful creature, and would benefit from good hiding.”

Miss Kara flails around for an implement to use, but the teaspoons and crockery do not suggest anything painful enough. Eventually a guest comes to her rescue, presenting the belt he was carrying around his waist for her use. Thanking him politely, she demands that you throw yourself over the back of a chair, so as to allow her a good shot at your bum.

Miserably obeying, the crowd appreciating the site of your rounded, proffered bottom, Miss Kara quickly sets about righting the wrong against her.

Snap! Snap!

Miss Kara’s angry belting lacks style or grace, and the strokes, though stingy, lack depth and accuracy – failing to encompass your entire bottom as a more skilled whipper might do.

Snap! Snap!

Nonetheless, this public beating is somewhat sharp, and your bottom soon heats up as her punishment goes on and on.

Snap! Snap!

If your Willpower is not at least 4, you do not remain still enough for Miss Kara’s liking. At the suggestion of your mistress one of the guests adds a dozen strokes to your disobedient behind as compensation for your lack of grit. Raise your Bum Status by 1 Level.

Your sore buttocks must take three dozen strokes at least before Miss Kara gets tired. Her anger has over-exerted her, and you have escaped with only a few livid bruises for your sacrifice. Raise your Bum Status by 2 levels.

You are left over the back of the chair as the guests disperse and your mistress and Miss Kara return to their tea. A new scone is provided, and soon Miss Kara has forgotten all about your red behind.

Your mistress does not forget your sacrifice however. “I am pleased that you still have enough initiative to pass the test.”

“The test, mistress?” you ask, crawling naked on all fours after her as the two of you depart the garden.

“Naturally,” she smiles. “A slave must protect her mistresses’ honour, even if her mistress has no honour. The dignity of the slave is unimportant, because their dignity is derived from the mistress. By protecting my reputation, you protect your own. Remember this lesson well.”

Your mistress is pleased with you. You may add 2 Fame Points.

Now Turn to page 415.

Page 414

You cannot stand to see an injustice. “It was her!” you cry, pointing to your mistress.

Miss Kara looks amazed. Your mistress is silent.

“Well … it looks like you were right about her – a treasonous little whore!” declares Miss Kara, biting into her half eaten scone.

She is not referring to your mistress. Her sudden relaxed demeanour tells you all. A trick! The scone ‘theft’ was pre-planned.

Your mistress, never looking directly at you, addresses you for the last time. “Go. I release you from my service – you are a disgrace.”

You feel a terrible churning in your belly. You are a traitor! Dismissed by your mistress – the ultimate humiliation!

Slowly you rise to your feet, shamefully covering your nakedness with your hands. Friendless and alone you walk back to the Slave Hub. Lose 5 Fame Point and 2 points of Ambition.

Turn to page 216.

Page 415

If you have the Codewords LILLY or COCKTEASE Turn to page 420.
If not, read on.

Weeks of unending service pass. You mistress alternates between painful periods of attention to neglecting you all together. Slowly you are shaped into her routine, padding after her on all fours like her affectionate hound, no longer caring that the other guests, slaves and mistresses revel in your shameless nudity. Days pass when your mistress does not say a word to you, and you huddle at the foot of her bed at night, revelling in your loneliness. Other days it seems she does nothing but pick on you and berate you for your stupidity, lashing you with casual contempt at the highlight of each telling-off. Mostly, though, it is a period of consolidation and healing. Lower your Bum Status by 2 levels. Raise your Submission by 1, but lose 2 Ambition points – thoughts of self-governance and power are slipping from your mind as you become your mistresses’ plaything.

One day your mistress informs you of a decision she has made. “I’m entering you into the ‘Perfect Slave’ competition,” she declares. “It is a gathering of personal slaves and mistresses before the Master himself. Each slave competes to show their absolute dedication to their mistress through trials of suffering and abasement. The most perfect slave, in the Master’s opinion, wins. The competition is in two days, so we must get you ready!”

Who is your Mistress? Miss Rose? Turn to page 416.
Mistress Jessica? Turn to page 417.
Miss Nadine? Turn to page 418.

Page 416

Naturally Miss Rose decides to toughen you up with a regular beating from her ‘Slut Thrasher’ upon your already regularly abused buttocks.

Thwap! Thwap!

“This is what awaits you if you fail me, slave,” hisses Miss Rose as you bend prostrate over her sofa. “I shall not be humiliated. You shall win for me!”

Thwap! Thwap!

“Ohh! Ouch! Yes, yes, of course, mistress!” you bleat as your bum blisters under her relentless strokes. Raise your Bum Status by 2 Levels.

Turn to page 419.

Page 417

Mistress Jessica decides to improve your bearing, which she believes is distinctly sub-standard. She makes you walk gracefully across the carpet, book balanced atop your head, her vicious training cane ready to slice into your buttocks at the slightest slouch or swagger. Later, you are commanded to stand in the corner, holding the book high above your head in your hands for thirty minutes, the cane slicing you every time your aching arms tremble or you roll your shoulders for relief.

The training is effective, but painful. Raise your Dignity by 1, but raise your Bum Status by 1 level.

Turn to page 419.

Page 418

Miss Nadine grants you the mercy of a good night’s rest before your trials tomorrow, and you sleep soundly and well. Lower your Bum Status by 2 levels.

Turn to page 419.

Page 419

The day of the Perfect Slave competition soon arrives! You are led naked into the Great Hall by your mistress, the whole room packed to the gunnels with guests and mistresses. Standing in neat rows, arms behind their backs, swelling breasts jutting proudly forth, stand the competing slaves – submitted by their mistresses without consent, but eager to serve despite the fearful fate that awaits them. Among them you spot your old classroom enemy, Veronica, beautiful in her raven-haired nudity. From the mutterings from the crowd she seems the firm favourite to win.

Beyond them, seated upon his black oaken throne, his naked pleasure girls never far away, the Master surveys the competing slaves dispassionately. He has seen this site many hundreds of times, and it will take something impressive indeed to earn his approval.

Your mistress commands you to join the slave ranks, which you do, trembling with nerves, but strangely excited. It is almost like an athletic event – the finest slaves in the house competing for the gold medal of the Master’s approval.

Each slave is allowed to choose three events to compete in from the list below:

Which event do you choose? Guest Pleasuring? Turn to page 421.
Bare Bottom Chastisement? Turn to page 424.
Speed Obedience? Turn to page 432.
Naked Wrestling? Turn to page 444.

If you have already chosen three events, Turn to page 449.

Page 420

In the middle of the night you are awoken by the sound of a polite knock at the door. Your mistress lazily commands you to open it, and you scamper from the foot of her bed to obey her. Framed in doorway, punishment rod in hand, stands the Master’s Steward.

He looks upon you with barely disguised disgust. “The Master has summoned you for your punishment. Follow me, slave – the hour of dread has come…”

You gasp and tremble. So – it has finally come! How many sleepless nights have you suffered dreading this moment? A personal punishment from the Master!

“With your permission, of course, Mistress…” adds the Steward politely to your mistress, still lying in bed.

“Fine,” she murmur’s uncaringly, not bothering to rise. “Just shut the door behind you.”

The Steward nods, and indicates for you to crawl out of the room, which you do, terrified by the summons. Politely closing the door behind him, the steward taps you forward on the bottom with a quick swat of his punishment rod, sending you scurrying ahead down the corridor.

Turn to page 454.

Page 421

Guest Pleasuring is a highly competitive field. Since it does not (usually) involve a slave girl’s bottom being further reddened many slave girls choose this option, which only serves to increase the challenge of winning…

In Guest Pleasuring slave girls are placed upon their knees, their hands tied firmly behind their backs. One by one the guest judges arrive, both male and female, to be orally pleasured by the eager slaves. You can see your arch-rival, Veronica, just a few positions to your left, practically salivating as an elegant looking guest with no trousers strides up to her lips, and roughly pushes his cock into her mouth.

Your turn soon comes. A rather fat looking Victorian gentleman produces his thick member from his unbuttoned flies. It is Mr. Sullivan (whom you may have met before), the notoriously mercurial but influential keeper of the Master’s pony girls. He looks delighted at having picked you as his pleasure slave, and stands with his cock proud almost a foot from your lips, obliging you to lean forwards sharply, your breasts swinging below you as you nibble, suck and bob.

If your Submission score is 10 or more, Turn to page 422.
If not, Turn to page 423.

Page 422

You shamelessly suck and deep throat the arrogant Mr. Sullivan’s cock, moaning in delight, allowing him to use your throat for his involuntary thrusts and bucks despite the size of his member, and the roughness of your treatment.

Mr. Sullivan seems to almost explode down your throat, his sticky seamen gushing into your belly as he cries out helplessly in unadulterated pleasure. You ensure he is fully cleaned with your mouth before permitting him exit.

“Superb – ten out of ten for this one!” he cries out unabashedly to the Master, who nods in acceptance.

Veronica almost gags on her own guest’s member in shock and rage, earning her a dozen strokes of the strap across her cringing buttocks from a nearby mistress.

Note that you have won the medal for Guest Pleasuring and gain 1 Fame Point.

Turn to page 419.

Page 423

You perform admirable service, but compared to the slave girl elite around you, you are but a novice. When Mr. Sullivan finally comes, disobligingly pulling out of your mouth to come all over your face, his scoring is less than generous.

“Four out of ten, at best,” he says ruefully. “Practice, girl, practice – that’s all I can recommend.”

It is a feeble score. To your left Veronica romps home with a score of nine. Your failure leaves you disheartened. Lose 1 Willpower point.

Turn to page 419.

Page 424

The Bare Bottom Chastisement competition is simple, but trying. One by one, the girls are lead up to a triangular whipping post, bent over, and thrashed with a heavy tawse until they can take no more. The girl who endures the most strokes wins the event. You believe that you have a good chance with this event, your recent experience being so extensive, and are horrified when you discover that corruption is endemic even in this sacred sporting event.

As the first girl is being lashed in front of you, Veronica sidles over to you.

“It has been decided by the mistresses that I will win this competition,” she tells you plainly. “You are to endure four dozen strokes of the tawse, and then throw the match. I will win by a clear margin with six dozen.”

“And what if I don’t let you win?” you demand angrily.

Veronica smiles. “The guest whipper has been bribed. He shall beat you extremely hard if you linger on past four dozen. Basically, he’ll make it impossible for you to win. Remember – throw the match at the fourth dozen! That way you walk away with a little credibility and I walk away a winner.”

You are too shocked and appalled to answer as Veronica smartly makes her way to the whipping post. Curtsying low to her punisher, she bends over to receive her due. If Veronica has managed to somehow bribe the guest it doesn’t show – she is given a good hiding with the strap, her deep voice raised to a high pitched yelp at almost every stoke. Her bottom is well and truly reddened, with ugly bruises marking the highest and lowest parts of her bum. She nonetheless manages to cling on to six dozen, accompanied by a fierce round of applause from the watching guests. That will take some beating!

You wait anxiously as, one after the other, more slave girls glumly take their place at the whipping post. You spot a pattern – none of the girls last beyond four dozen, most surrendering at just two or three, a few giving up at one. Clearly Veronica has threatened all other girls as well … successfully.

You are up last. Having seen the tremendous skill of the guest whipper practiced on fifteen other bottoms your stomach is tied up in knots. You curtsy politely to your punisher, before folding your naked, perspiring body over the whipping horse, clutching the lower bar tightly.

If you have the weakness ‘Schoolgirl Rival’, Turn to page 425.
Otherwise, read on.

How do you wish to proceed? Do you: Realise, since Veronica has clearly stitched the whole competition up, that you may as well quit after the first dozen? Turn to page 426.
Play it Veronica’s way, lasting four dozen before surrendering? Turn to page 425.
Or, despite the odds, ignore Veronica and play properly, aiming to win by enduring at least seven dozen strokes? Turn to page 427.

Page 425

Long experience with Veronica has taught you that you cannot hope to beat her. She always finds a way to outfox you and make you suffer more in the long run.

Meekly you submit to her commands, allowing the guest whipper to thrash you a full four dozen strokes.

Snap! Snap! Snap!

The beating is relentless and extremely hard. The guest seems to whip you not out of pleasure but out of professional pride, eager to impress the master with his tremendous strength. However, even as your bottom is bombarded, and the terrible sting builds in strength, you submit yourself wholly to Veronica’s desires, enduring terrible pain because she wishes it so.

Raise your Bum Status by 4 Levels, but add one Submission point.

At four dozen you obediently call for a halt, receiving a small ripple of applause from the audience. You stagger to you feet, sore and defeated. You see Veronica, back in the slave line-up, smirking at you with satisfaction. You cannot help but lower your head in shame.

Turn to page 419.

Page 426

You wish you had never chosen this event … but at least you can minimise the damage.

Snap! Snap! Snap!

The guest whipper drives the tawse deep into your wobbling buttocks, leaving acute track lines. You do not have to fake the small cries of pain as the guest steadily builds up the heat in your arse.

Snap! Snap! Snap!

Immediately, at the end of that first dozen, when the guest asks if you can go on, you quickly surrender. Unlike some of the other girls you receive no applause for your endurance. You catch a brief glipse at the Master upon his throne … he has been watching the event. There is a frown upon his face.

You feel mortified. Lose 1 point of Ambition and 1 Fame Point. Also, raise your Bum Status by 1 level.

Turn to page 419.

Page 427

You’ll be damned if you let that spoilt bitch Veronica dictate anything to you. You’re not even sure she’s telling the truth about bribing the guest anyway. Besides, if there’s one event you should be able to win, it’s a flagellation competition!

Snap! Snap! Snap!

Not that it’s going to be easy! The guest whipper drives the tawse deep into your wobbling buttocks, leaving acute track lines. You do not have to fake the small cries of pain as the guest steadily builds up the heat in your arse.

Snap! Snap! Snap!

By the end of the first dozen you can see why so many of the girls quit so early. It also gives you a new appreciation for Veronica’s endurance!

Snap! Snap! Snap!

By the end of three dozen your backside feels practically on fire. The beating is relentless and extremely hard. The guest seems to whip you not out of pleasure but out of professional pride, eager to impress the master with his tremendous strength.

Snap! Snap! Snap!

You let out a terrible grunt as the last of four dozen strokes paints your scalding backside. Raise your Bum Status by 4 levels. Your bottom is terribly sore, a blotchy red in colour from the fierce attention it has received.

“Do you wish to go on?” asks the guest whipper menacingly.

If your Willpower is 6 or more, Turn to page 428.
If your Willpower is 5 or less, or you would rather back down now, Turn to page 429.

Page 428

“Yes please, sir,” you pant, trying to ignore the fierce burn in your bottom.

The guest looks surprised, briefly looking towards someone in the crowd, and then back at you. “Are you sure?” he growls.

You remain fixed and determined. “Yes, sir. Yes please, sir,” you repeat fiercely.

The guest looks momentarily phased by your demand, then relaxes somewhat.

If you have the trait ‘Welt’s Nicely’ Turn to page 430.
If not, read on.

You watch as the guest hangs up his scalding tawse, and takes down a long, black cane – made of a material you do not recognise. The guest then turns to the Master, who is watching the various events with a keen interest.

“Master, with your permission,” he says reverently, “I would like to swap implements at this phase in the girl’s beating. I have with me an exquisite implement, a carbon-fibre cane from the 22nd century. Designed by the greatest scientists of the age to be totally frictionless, and thus defeat air resistance, increasing the impact upon the sufferer’s bottom. I believe the demonstration would be most illuminating.”

The Master beckons the guest forwards to examine the black cane. He runs the implement through his hands, examining its length and texture. “You have often boasted of this weapon,” muses the Master. “It does not seem sharp – and beyond its unusual texture looks conventional enough. However – if the girl is to be struck by such an unfamiliar device, every stroke must count as two for the purposes of scoring. Would this be acceptable to you?”

The guest does not look entirely pleased, but accepts. The Master returns the cane, and the guest walks back to you at the whipping post. He bends down to whisper in your ear.

“You interfere with matters beyond your understanding, slave girl,” he hisses. “You shall pay for your defiance!”

At that he steps behind you. You swallow, instinctively raising your buttocks to receive the first cut.

Swit!

With barely a whisper your backside ignites as the terrible weapon slices into your buttock cheeks, low and sharp. You yelp in shock – you can almost imagine the fiery red slice now cut into your clenching buttocks.

Swit! Swit!

Two more lines of fire join the others, your bottom leaping at each stroke, a terrible crimson criss-cross forming on your already battered cheeks.

Swit! Swit!

If your Willpower is 8 or more, Turn to page 431.
If not, read on.

Swit!

A cruel blow, cutting you deep in the crease between your buttocks and thighs has you shrieking, leaping to your feet to grasp your sliced backside.

“A foul – this slave girl forfits,” declares the guest coldly.

“For a total of five dozen – a good score,” concurs the Master.

There is a surge of applause. Although you have not won, praise from the Master always counts for something. Gain 1 Fame Point and raise your Bum Status by 2 levels. Veronica glares at you angrily as you return to the slave line. You have defied her. She will not forget that.

Turn to page 419.

Page 429

You want to go on – truly you do – but you have no more left. Heaving a sigh you submit, receiving a small ripple of applause from the audience. You stagger to you feet, sore and defeated. You see Veronica, back in the slave line-up, smirking at you with satisfaction. You cannot help but lower your head in shame.

Turn to page 419.

Page 430

“What a glorious arse,” comments the guest appreciatively. “The welts are vivid and red, blooming to a beautiful purple across the overlaps. It would be a crime not to beat these buttocks to their very limits.”

You may add 1 to your Dignity score for this public appreciation of your assets.

The guest raises his tawse to further improve his painting.

Snap! Snap! Snap!

You groan, you holler, you jump, but you stay down as the guest continues to lash you with abandon, a look of distant admiration on his face as he artfully bruises your behind with stroke after stroke.

Snap! Snap! Snap!

Victory comes at the culmination of the seventh dozen. You bottom feels so hot and sore that you wonder flames do not pour from them. Raise your Bum Status by 3 levels.

At your final submission, there erupts a mighty cheer across the hall. The watching guests roar their approval of your victory, even as your mistress is presented with the medal you have won. The Master himself nods his approval at your victory. Gain 2 Fame Points, and note that you have won the medal for Bare Bottom Chastisement.

Turn to page 419.

Page 431

Swit! Swit! Swit!

You hiss and kick as the terrible futuristic cane slices again and again into your sacrificial cheeks. You grip on to the bar in desperation. You refuse, absolutely, to give in to Veronica and her cruel schemes, even as the tears drip from your eyes and your bottom shudders under the impact of the black cane.

Swit! Swit!

It takes an intervention from the Master to halt the travesty of caning justice. “DolJan – enough!” he roars, his voice echoing like thunder across the hall to the gasps of the guests. “The slave has now taken eighteen strokes, more than enough for victory. You shall desist damaging my property any further!”

The guest trembles before the voice – it is rare indeed for the Master to criticise any guest. “Apologies, Master – I was just teaching this loathsome slave some respect.”

“She has mine – that will be enough for her,” states the Master plainly.

Indeed, he is right. You flush with pride at your Master’s compliment. Gain 2 Fame Points and 1 Ambition point. Also, raise your Bum Status by 3 levels.

As you rise there erupts a mighty cheer across the hall. The watching guests roar their approval of your victory, even as your mistress is presented with the medal you have won. The Master himself nods his approval at your victory. Note that you have won the medal for Bare Bottom Chastisement.

Turn to page 419.

Page 432

You are unsure of the rules for Speed Obedience. You guess, from the title, that the idea is to obey orders quickly. Though what those orders might be you are unsure. A large number of girls have volunteered for this event, and soon you are all steered into the centre of the hall, evenly spaced. By each slave girl stands a mistress or a guest with a heavy strap. Your own guard, Mistress Odessa, surveys your bottom hungrily, as if relishing the chance to strike it. You, and each of the other competing slaves, are presented with a blindfold, which Mistress Odessa ties tightly across your eyes, plunging you into darkness.

“Let the event begin,” calls the Master. “Position Three!”

You hear a sudden shuffling, as if all the girls are moving at once. Clearly this is a whipping position, but which one?

Do you? Bend over and touch toes? Turn to page 433.
Lie on your back, grasp your knees, and hug them to your chest? Turn to page 434.
Bend over onto the palms of your hands, open legs wide, letting your head dangle between? Turn to page 435.

Page 433

You bend over sharply, touching your toes like a well behaved slave girl. Your reward is not long in coming…

Snap! Snap!

Mistress Odessa strikes your bum cheeks hard with her heavy strap. Across the hall you hear several other slave girls whimper out as they receive beatings of their own.

Raise your Bum Status by 1 level.

“You’re out, girly,” grunts Mistress Odessa. “Wrong position.”

You are shoved out of the competition ring, cursing your mistress silently that she did not teach you the obedience positions.

Turn to page 419.

Page 434

You lie on your back, tucking into a small ball so that you bottom is exposed to the strap. Your reward is not long in coming…

Snap! Snap!

Mistress Odessa strikes your bum cheeks hard with her heavy strap. Across the hall you hear several other slave girls whimper out as they receive beatings of their own.

Raise your Bum Status by 1 level.

“You’re out, girly,” grunts Mistress Odessa. “Wrong position.”

You are shoved out of the competition ring, cursing your mistress silently that she did not teach you the obedience positions.

Turn to page 419.

Page 435

You fall onto your palms, pushing your bottom wide out.

Snap!

You wince as Mistress Odessa plants a powerful blow across your buttocks as your reward – but no further strokes follow. You have guessed correctly.

Across the hall you hear several slave girls dismissed, along with a full dozen strokes across their backsides to torment them in failure. Your period of rest does not last long, however.

“Position Two!” barks the Master.

What do you do? Bend over and touch toes? Turn to page 436.
Drop to your knees, put your hands behind your back and push your breasts out? Turn to page 437.
Bend over and grasp your knees, pushing your bottom out? Turn to page 438.

Page 436

If your Submission is less than 6 Turn to page 439.
If not, read on.

You swiftly rise, and then bend over to touch your toes, keeping your legs straight and bottom pushed out.

Snap! Mistress Odessa gives you a single stroke, but no further. You have guessed correctly!

A large number of girls have now left the competition area. It seems that many of them got the position right, but were too slow to obey. You steel yourself, ready to adopt a position as soon as the Master has spoken.

“Position Five!” comes the command.

Do you: Lie on your back, grasp your knees, and hug them to your chest? Turn to page 440.
Lie on your back, raise your legs high and separate them widely? Turn to page 441.
Bend over, grasping your knees, and pushing your bottom out? Turn to page 442.

Page 437

You drop quickly to your knees, pushing your breasts out proudly. You can almost hear Mistress Odessa lick her lips as she swings the strap down…

Snap! Snap!

You cry out as Mistress Odessa begins a rhythmic beating of your tits. You quickly realise you have got the position wrong, and are being punished in the most humiliating way.

Snap! Snap! Snap!

Your tits bounce and quiver, much to the delight of the hawking guests, who laugh and cheer as your boobs bounce under the impact. Lose 1 point of Dignity.

“You’re out, girly,” grunts Mistress Odessa after a full dozen strokes have caressed your sore breasts. “Wrong position.”

You are shoved out of the competition ring, cursing your mistress silently that she did not teach you the obedience positions.

Turn to page 419.

Page 438

You swiftly bend over and grasp your knees. Your reward is not long in coming…

Snap! Snap!

Mistress Odessa strikes your bum cheeks hard with her heavy strap. Across the hall you hear several other slave girls whimper out as they receive beatings of their own. A full dozen strokes roughly caress your bum globes before the mistress has finished with you.

Raise your Bum Status by 1 level.

“You’re out, girly,” grunts Mistress Odessa. “Wrong position.”

You are shoved out of the competition ring, cursing your mistress silently that she did not teach you the obedience positions.

Turn to page 419.

Page 439

You swiftly rise, and then bend over to touch your toes, keeping your legs straight and bottom pushed out.

Snap! Snap!

“Too slow, girly,” laughs Mistress Odessa, as she cruelly whips your backside.

You are distraught! You correctly guessed, but what must have been a moment of hesitation let you down, allowing the other snivelling slave girls a chance at victory. Raise your Bum Status by 1 level.

At the conclusion of your whipping you are unceremoniously pushed out of the competition ring, fighting back the tears of disappointment.

Turn to page 419.

Page 440

You lie on your back, tucking into a small ball so that you bottom is exposed to the strap. Your reward is not long in coming…

Snap! Snap!

Mistress Odessa strikes your bum cheeks hard with her heavy strap. Across the hall you hear several other slave girls whimper out as they receive beatings of their own.

Raise your Bum Status by 1 level.

“You’re out, girly,” grunts Mistress Odessa. “Wrong position.”

You are shoved out of the competition ring, cursing your mistress silently that she did not teach you the obedience positions.

Turn to page 419.

Page 441

You almost fall onto your back in your eagerness to obey, pushing your legs high above you … and then a doubt falls – if you open your legs, Mistress Odessa is certain to whip you … down there…

If your submission is 8 or more Turn to page 443.
If not, read on.

The sound of a snap, and a female cry elsewhere call your attention. You quickly open your legs … but it is far too late. A champion has been declared…

Snap!

Regardless, Mistress Odessa takes great pleasure in giving you your reward anyway, which causes you to squeal in defeat.

“The slave girl, Veronica, wins!” cries the Master, to your agonising disappointment.

Turn to page 419.

Page 442

You swiftly bend over and grasp your knees. Your reward is not long in coming…

Snap! Snap!

Mistress Odessa strikes your bum cheeks hard with her heavy strap. Across the hall you hear several other slave girls whimper out as they receive beatings of their own.

Raise your Bum Status by 1 level.

“You’re out, girly,” grunts Mistress Odessa. “Wrong position.”

You are shoved out of the competition ring, cursing your mistress silently that she did not teach you the obedience positions.

Turn to page 419.

Page 443

There is no point in hesitation. A slave girl’s life is obedience and suffering. You open your legs…

Snap!

The stroke comes, hard and pitiless, striking against your moistened sex lips. You cry out – but it is a cry of victory. You were clearly the first to submit…

The Master declares your victory to cheers from the guests. Gain 1 Fame Point and note that you have won the medal for Speed Obedience.

Turn to page 419.

Page 444

There are very few volunteers for naked wrestling. The event is considered somewhat undignified and aggressive for the passively trained slave girls of the manor. Also, however, it is dominated by a repeat champion.

Samantha, the reigning champion, has won the event for many years. She is a cleaning slave, well over six foot tall, and strong as an ox. Most of the other slaves now consider the event a foregone conclusion. Veronica has picked the event, though, and that means there must be some way to win.

With only four slaves involved, the rounds are split into a semi-final and a final round. In your first round you face Gillian, another cleaning slave whom you first met over the knee of a proud Victorian guest. She’s a tough looking girl, and doesn’t look like she intends to give you an easy time.

If you have the trait ‘Strong’ Turn to page 445.
Otherwise Turn to page 446.

Page 445

Gillian’s a strong girl – but not as strong as you. After grappling for several minutes you pin the girl down to the floor, sitting on her back, squashing her breasts. The referee quickly declares you the victor.

Sweating and slippery from your ordeal you watch the match of Samantha versus Veronica with interest. Veronica is a crafty, vicious fighter who kicks and claws at her opponent – but Samantha is clearly the stronger, bringing the nasty Veronica down in under a minute. It is an impressive display … you don’t stand a chance…

If you have the codeword SAMANTHA, Turn to page 447.
If not, Turn to page 448.

Page 446

Perhaps you thought you stood a chance in this competition? Alas, it is dominated by the small cadre of strong girls who, nonetheless, submit to the Master’s lash. Totally out of your league, your much stronger opponent pins you down in under a minute, crushing you flat until you are compelled to submit.

Gillian, pleased with her victory, sticks her tongue out you as you are shown from the arena.

Turn to page 419.

Page 447

Samantha smiles warmly as she sees you. She clearly hasn’t forgotten what you did for her. “My friend!” she cries, embracing you tightly in her massive grip. “It’s wonderful to see you again.”

“You too,” you smile. “Although it looks like I’m about to be beaten! Damn … I really wanted that medal.”

Samantha’s looks panicked. “It’s only a silly medal – don’t let that worry you … I owe you everything! Ever since you saved me Laura’s completely backed off! I’m free! Except for … you know … being a slave of the Master and everything…”

“Positions!” roars Mistress Odessa, who is refereeing the match.

Quickly the two of you break apart – then, at a command from the mistress, begin to wrestle.

It’s like wrestling a boulder. Samantha is huge and muscular – and even though you’re no pushover, there is surely only one way this can end. Then, as the two of you are tightly embraced, Samantha whispers into your ear.

“Kick my left knee,” she whispers mischievously. Instinctively you do so, sending the giant girl crashing down. You immediately leap onto her back, grabbing her arm behind her back and pulling until she hammers on the floor with her spare hand. “I submit! I submit!”

There is a mighty cheer from the crowd. You’ve bested the Naked Wrestling champion! Looking down on the defeated giant, you see Samantha quickly wink at you. She threw the match! You gave her freedom, and she rewarded you with victory.

You swell with pride as your mistress is presented with your medal. Gain 1 point of Ambition (people are sure to respect you now) and 1 Fame Point.

Note that you have won the medal for Naked Wrestling.

Turn to page 419.

Page 448

Your suspicions are soon proved correct. Samantha tosses you around the ring like a rag doll, forcing you onto your knees and twisting your arm behind your back. Submission is your only choice.

Still, you didn’t do badly. Samantha may have won the medal – but at least you outlasted Veronica!

Turn to page 419.

Page 449

How many medals did you win? None? Turn to page 450.
One or two? Turn to page 451.
Three? Turn to page 452.

Page 450

You watch bitterly as Veronica is declared this year’s Perfect Slave, to cheers and chants from the crowd.

Your mistress is furious with your poor performance, which shows poorly on her. Borrowing a heavy strap from one of the other mistresses, she has you unceremoniously bent over a bench and beats your bottom to within an inch of your life!

If your Mistress is Miss Nadine, raise your Bum Status by 2 levels. If your Mistress is Miss Rose, raise your Bum Status by 3 levels. If your Mistress is Mistress Jessica, raise your Bum Status by 4 levels.

Leaving the victorious Veronica to her crowd, you crawl after your mistress, hanging your head in shame.

Turn to page 453.

Page 451

If your Mistress is Miss Nadine or Miss Rose you have performed acceptably well – your mistress proudly sporting the medals you have won for her. She grants you the luxury of kneeling at her feet as she mixes with the other mistresses, critiquing the events she has seen today with them.

If your Mistress is Mistress Jessica, she is furious that you did not win all the medals. Borrowing a heavy strap from one of the other mistresses, she has you unceremoniously bent over a bench and beats your bottom to within an inch of your life! Raise your Bum Status by 4 levels.

After the party, you follow your mistress back to the hall, crawling obediently behind like a well trained slave girl.

Turn to page 453.

Page 452

The guests go wild! There is chanting in the hall. The Master has declared you this year’s Perfect Slave. Your mistress is most pleased with your efforts, even going to far as to publicly congratulate you.

Raise your Ambition, Dignity, Submission and Willpower by 1 point, and gain 3 Fame Points.

Your Mistress grants you the luxury of kneeling at her feet as she mixes with the other mistresses, critiquing the events she has seen today with them. After the party, you follow your mistress back to the hall, crawling obediently behind her like the well trained slave girl you are.

Turn to page 453.

Page 453

A couple of days after the Perfect Slave competition your Mistress declares your Slave Training complete.

“You’ve done well, I’m forced to admit,” she says. “It seems you were born to serve, and that this is your natural aptitude. Consider carefully before asking the Master for promotion to Mistress … you might come to miss the lash upon your bottom, or the taste of your mistress’s toes in your mouth. Now be gone! There is nothing more I can teach you.”

If your Mistress was Miss Rose gain 2 Fame Points. The other slaves and mistresses will know what torments you have been through to please the fearsome Miss Rose.

If your Mistress was Mistress Jessica gain 4 Fame Points. The mere fact you have served the Supreme Mistress is enough to impress even the Master.

If your Mistress was Miss Nadine lose 1 Fame Point. Alas, her reputation amongst the other mistresses is so poor that most consider that you have barely been trained at all!

Now Turn to page 216.

Page 454

The steward has you on your hands and knees, naked, crawling to the Master’s study. Every shuffle moves you closer to your doom, and as you proceed deeper and deeper into the manor, the surroundings become darker and more gothic. The corridor leading to the study is cluttered with portraits of punished girls, whipped, birched, caned, suspended and imprisoned. The very approach cows your rebellious spirit and fills you with dread. Lose 1 point of Ambition and Willpower.

The steward raps upon the door with his punishment rod. A full minute later the terrible voice of the master echoes from behind the door.

“Enter.”

The steward opens the door, a blast of heat engulfing your face. In the austere study beyond you can see a large fireplace, a roaring fire crackling away, lending the study a hellish glare. Numerous volumes fill the study, bookcases overstuffed with forgotten lore, piles of books left in corners or by the desk. None but the Master is allowed to place one finger upon his books, at the risk of the most terrible punishments. The Master himself sits tall and proud at his desk, his stern face almost covered by the volume he is reading. Beneath his desk, two topless cockslaves slurp eagerly at his jutting member, desperate to drink the Essence which is almost their exclusive reward. The Master does not deign to notice you.

“My Master, I have brought the troublesome slave who insulted you as you commanded,” states the steward. “She quivers in fear at my feet, awaiting your just punishment.”

If this is the second time you have been to the Master’s study, Turn to page 455.
If not, read on.

“Well she may,” grows the Master ominously. “Leave us.”

“Yes, Master,” bows the steward, gracefully exiting before closing the door behind him.

Sweat pours from your brow as you hear the Master rise, disdainfully swatting the cockslaves aside like flies. They immediately crawl back, sit upon their heels and cast their eyes to the floor, remaining utterly motionless.

If you have the Codewords LILLY and COCKTEASE Turn to page 455.
If not, read on.

“You are here because you have committed the most serious crime possible,” says the Master haughtily. “Namely, that of putting your own selfish, insignificant desires before my whim.”

You cannot speak – terror and shame have silenced your tongue.

“You exist to serve me,” he intones. “All your thoughts must be bent to that fact. Your ambitions, needs and pleasure must all be suspended for my own. That is the point of your existence.”

The Master glares down upon you, and you shake in mortified horror. How could you betray your Master? He is your whole life!

“Stand, and bring that chair into the centre of the study,” commands the Master.

Without thought you leap to your feet and grab the indicated chair, desperate to show your total obedience to your fearsome Master. The chair is large, with a wide, deep seat and wooden armrests. In your heightened state of fear, however, it takes little exertion to shift it into position.

“Now, kneel upon the very edge of the seat, facing the chair back. Hold onto the armrests if you must,” sneers the Master.

Kneeling upon the very edge of the chair, you grip the armrests with your hands to stop yourself from falling.

“Grab the backs of the armrests with your hands, and push your head as far back into the cushion as you can.”

You do so, leaning forwards to push your face into the back of the chair, your bottom rising high as you do so. The position feels uniquely vulnerable … but the Master is not finished with you yet.

“One at a time, lift your knees up on top of each armrest, then push your bottom high above you, so that your head is upside down and your bottom is raised high.”

You do so, gasping as you realise the position the Master has put you in. You realise every one of your feminine charms is on display, from your bottom, vertically presented high above your head, to the lips of your sex, stretched open from the wide positioning of your knees, to your firm breasts which hang upside down on clear display. Worse, with your knees out of the way, you will be able to see every stoke the Master inflicts upon your bottom … if that is where he intends to strike you.

You feel your humiliation is complete, until you hear a knock at the door.

“Enter,” growls the Master darkly..

Three guests enter, including the famous Mr. Sullivan, keeper of the Master’s pony girls. They startle and grin as they look upon your exposed nakedness. To be so humiliated before the most important men in the house is deeply shameful. Lose 2 points of Dignity.

“These gentlemen have kindly volunteered to observe your punishment, and to advise me if they feel your deportment or gratitude is lacking,” explains the Master, clicking his fingers, sending his cockslaves scurrying to fetch glasses of wine for the observing guests. The guests themselves, the fat Mr. Sullivan in the middle, pull up chairs and position themselves for a perfect view of your displayed charms. Once the wine is served and the Master has made sure his guests are comfortable, he goes to a large cupboard and rummages through for something appropriate to beat you with. Selecting a fine rattan cane he returns to stand by your side.

“Six dozen, slave girl,” he snarls. “You shall take them gratefully and count. Deduct any extras I award you from the total.”

“Yes, Master,” you warble, as you watch him take position.

With the strength of an ape, but the grace of a hunting panther, the Master delivers your first stroke.

Vip!

“Ah!” you cry, the guests chuckling as they watch your face contort with pain. The stroke cuts deep and low into your buttocks, sending them into a mad clenching frenzy as you try and disperse the terrible pain. “One! Thank you, Master!”

Vip!

A second, as hard as the first, and just a fraction higher, makes your eyes water from the stroke.

“Oh! Good shot, sir!” cries Mr. Sullivan in appreciation, as he observes the track line spring forth a ghastly red.

“Tuh … two! Thank you, Master!” you manage, the sting rising in your bum.

Vip! Vip! Vip!

The strokes go on, and you count loyally, humiliated and jeered by the observing guests even as they praise the Master’s skill.

If your Willpower is less than 8, you begin to sob desperately, begging the Master’s forgiveness and mercy. One of the guests, a Mr. Jasper, thinks this isn’t on. “This is a clear breach of decorum, Master – might I suggest two dozen penalty strokes?” The Master agrees and lashes your bottom into obedience. Raise your Bum Status by 2 levels.

Vip! Vip!

You grunt and moan as you howl out the strokes, your lashed bottom flaming above you. But still, you are shocked to discover a sudden splash upon your face. Your own sex, betraying your secret enjoyment of the Master’s attention, splatters your face with a sudden spurt of girl juice, much to the roars of laughter from the guests.

Vip! Vip!

If your Submission is less than 7 you lose count in your ecstasy. Mr. Sullivan quickly spots this. “Wrong number, filly – I don’t think this slave is paying attention! What say we have another two dozen on her forgetful behind, just to teach her to keep count, eh?” The Master agrees, lashing you an extra twenty four strokes. Raise your Bum Status by 2 levels.

Vip! Vip!

The guests seem entranced as they watch your punished backside receive stroke after stroke, new lines of fire criss-crossing over the old. You wail and cry out, eager to keep count of the score upon your bum, trying not to wriggle in an unseemly way as the master bastes your arse with his cane.

Vip! Vip!

If your Dignity is less than 8, one of the guests, Mr. Carthage, feels that you are wriggling and weeping in an unseemly manner. “The slave slut should be grateful for the attention,” he opinions. “Another two dozen strokes for her disappointing performance.” The Master agrees, whipping down another two dozen fiery strokes of his cane upon your flaming behind. Raise your Bum Status by 2 levels.

Vip!

“Ah … seventy-two, Master! Thank you, Master!” you moan, utterly broken and spent, your sweat slicked body shining almost as brightly as your purple bruised bottom. Raise your Bum Status by 5 levels.

You are given a few minutes to rest in your upside down position, whilst the guests congratulate the Master on a superb performance. You look upon the Master with renewed respect – never have you been caned with such skill, nor been humiliated with such exquisite precision. You long to serve him again!

After your rest you are instructed to pleasure each of the guests in turn as thanks for their kind input into your caning. Taking their cocks into your mouth one at a time, you gently pleasure them to orgasm, such that your mouth is thick with their salty come by the end of your service.

At that the Master dismisses you. “Your sin has been purged and forgotten,” he says, lightening your spirits. “Now return to your place, slave.”

Erase the Codewords LILLY and COCKTEASE from your sheet.

What were you before being summoned to the Master?

A cleaning slave? Turn to page 348.
Assistant to the Loremistress? Turn to page 242.
In Slave Training? Turn to page 415.
Or in the Slave Hub with Mistress Jessica? Turn to page 475.

Page 455

“It is rare,” states the Master coldly, “for any slave to defy me in public. Unheard of for a slave to do so twice in a row.”

“I’m so sorry, Master!” you quail.

“Silence!” he roars, sending you cowering to his feet. “Your doom is sealed. I have arranged for you to be taken to the Underworld. There, the former Masters may use you as their slave chattel. You shall know only shame and pain in their service, and shall serve as a reminder to all slaves of the fate that awaits them for disobedience!”

You collapse into sobs as the Master summons the steward to take you away.

Moments later you are taken to a dark corridor, where a black door with a golden lock is opened, and you are cast inside. Here dwell the former Master’s, cast out from the Manor for weakness or cruelty. They slake their pleasure upon slaves and mistresses too nosy or too obscene to enjoy the pleasures of the manor. Here you shall serve for all time in chains, to disgraced Masters who have no concept of a slave’s dignity, to service their throbbing members and perverse desires until the end of time itself.

Your adventure ends here…

Page 456

You are interrupted in your discussions by the arrival of the Steward.

“Apologies, Supreme Mistress,” says the Steward. “But the Master demands the presence of his slave. Her punishment is now due.”

You gasp and tremble. So – it has finally come! How many sleepless nights have you suffered dreading this moment? A personal punishment from the Master!

“Of course – the Master’s will be done,” intones Mistress Jessica. “Please return her when the Master has finished – presuming she is in any fit state to be seen of course.”

The Steward bows, then turn to you. “Follow me, slave – the hour of dread has come…”

Turn to page 454.

Page 457

“Alas,” smiles Mistress Jessica, “I must inform you of some bad news. One of your fellow slaves, Veronica, has demanded your presence tomorrow morning, so that she may give you the thrashing you so richly deserve. Normally such a request would be ludicrous, however the Master has seen fit to give her this boon in exchange for being his winning steed at the pony races.”

You shake with rage. That bitch! How dare she schedule your beating on the same day as your permanent assignment hearing!

“The matter is out of my hands,” Mistress Jessica says simply, not bothering to disguise her cruel grin. “You shall report to Veronica in the Summer House tomorrow morning at ten o’clock. Your meeting with the Master is at eight in the evening. That should give you plenty of time to … recover.”

You spend a miserable evening in the Slave Hub – pondering your fate both at Veronica’s and the Master’s hands. How will he react when he sees your bum fresh with stripes from your encounter with Veronica? After a torturous night the next morning comes, and you quickly change into a humble slave’s garb (little more than a nightshirt whose hem barely covers your pudenda), and make your way to the Summer House.

Set in the gardens, the Summer House is the private getaway for favoured guests, where slaves lavish attention upon their uncaring masters, whilst being whipped for the slightest error or incompetence. Once you are in the luxurious lounge, well stocked with comfortable furniture, wines and implements of punishment, you realise you are slightly early, and that Veronica is not yet here.

What would you like to do? Pick a sofa, sit down and wait? Turn to page 458.
Pour Veronica a glass of wine in a silver glass, then drop to your knees, facing the door, holding the glass out to her as a gift? Turn to page 459.
Strip entirely naked and bend over touching toes, bottom facing the door, your bum clutching a cane between its cheeks, ready to receive her strokes? Turn to page 460.
Grab a heavy strap from the implement rack, and prepare to dominate your erstwhile schoolfriend? Turn to page 461.

Page 458

In a sulk, you flop yourself into a nearby sofa, brooding on what is to follow. Veronica may have the right to beat you, but you’re not going to make it easy on her!

A little later Veronica appears, clad in tight black leather and high healed boots – somewhat akin to what a well respected mistress might wear.

“You loathsome little toad! Get to your feet!” snarls Veronica, in a tone that cannot be denied. “You shall receive extra for this slovenly defiance!”

You quickly get to your feet, heart hammering. You had forgotten how forceful Veronica is. You punishment is inevitable – time to accept it!

If you have the Codeword GROVEL Turn to page 462.

“I would have thought, given that you are already due extra thanks to your shameful defiance at the racetrack, that you would have learned some manners now,” snaps Veronica, reminding you of your stubborn refusal to kneel before her at the pony girl race. “Apparently not. Good. I shall enjoy whipping that arrogant arse of your all the more!”

Turn to page 462.

Page 459

You decision demonstrates what natural class and grace you have discovered in your long service as a slave. Despite you animosity towards Veronica you must accept her as your mistress because it is what the Master wishes. Since she is to whip you in his name, she deserves every comfort and luxury as if she was a guest, or the Master himself.

Add 1 point to your Dignity.

Your knees have only just begun to ache when Veronica appears, clad in tight black leather and high healed boots – somewhat akin to what a well respected mistress might wear. She looks surprised, but pleased at your position and gift. She says nothing, but takes the wine from your hands, and drinks it down in one gulp, before eyeing you heavily.

“Stand up,” she instructs, and you do, rising to your feet, your head meekly downcast.

If you have the Codeword GROVEL Turn to page 462.
If not, read on.

“A pity you had not discovered this appropriate submission when you stubbornly refused to kneel before me at the track,” Veronica smiles slyly. “That shall cost your bottom extra, I’m afraid.”

Turn to page 462.

Page 460

You can scarcely believe, as you stand bent over, aching arse clutching the long cane held between your buttocks, that you have offered yourself so completely to someone who is your undoubted enemy. What part of your psyche demands such reckless submission? Have you so little pride that you are willing to abase yourself to a girl who will, in any case, show your bottom scant mercy, no matter how well behaved you are?

Lose 1 point of Ambition, but gain 2 Submission points.

You flinch as you hear the door open. Veronica has arrived, clad in tight black leather and high healed boots – somewhat akin to what a well respected mistress might wear.

If you have the weakness ‘Schoolgirl Rivalry’, Turn to page 465.
If not, read on.

Veronica laughs. “So, it seems you have given this matter a great deal of thought! The cane, eh? I’m afraid to say that you are being a little presumptuous. Only a Mistress may use a cane – but don’t worry, you won’t be disappointed by your treatment I assure you!”

If you have the trait ‘Lust for the Cane’, Turn to page 466.
If not, read on.

“Stand up, slut, and pull that cane out of your arse!” she commands crudely. “Place it back onto the rack and slip that rag back on yourself. It is I who will bare you for the punishment, not you.”

“Yes … Veronica,” you say, uncertain of what to call her. You quickly rise, slipping the sharp cane from your buttocks, and hanging the weapon back on the rack. Slipping your slave shirt back over your naked body, you stand to attention, awaiting Veronica’s decree.

If you have the codeword GROVEL Turn to page 462.
Otherwise, read on.

Turn to page 462.

Page 461

If you have the weakness ‘Schoolgirl Rivalry’ turn back to page 457 – there’s no way you could ever stand up to Veronica so boldly. Otherwise, read on.

Butterflies swirl in your stomach as you wait for Veronica. You’re not sure this is a wise scheme – but you’ve had enough of being bullied by your old classmate. It’s time to bury the past. If you have any hope of becoming a true mistress, you must confront your demons.

Moments later Veronica has arrived, clad in tight black leather and high healed boots – somewhat akin to what a well respected mistress might wear. She is not, herself, armed.

A flicker of concern crosses Veronica’s face as she sees you standing boldly before her. “Hello, Veronica,” you smile wickedly. “Get on your knees.”

“You’re a fool!” she spits. “The Master himself has decreed your punishment at my hands. It is my right to beat you. Drop the strap and stand in the centre of the room – hands by your sides! Now!”

Hearing the Master’s name makes you uneasy – she’s right, you’re defying him!

If your Ambition is 9 or more Turn to page 469.
If not, read on.

Your bond to the Master, when you willingly swallowed his essence, makes any rebellion impossible. Tears stream from your eyes, and you drop the strap as if it weighed a ton. Veronica watches, grinning smugly, as you weep. Truly she has beaten you – and is about to do so again.

Straightening up, trembling, you stand obediently before your rightful punisher, awaiting her cruel command.

Page 462

“Now,” says Veronica, savouring her total power over you. “Let us prepare you for your punishment. Grab that footstool, and place it in front of the sofa, about a foot from the edge.”

“Yes … Veronica?” you ask, unsure of how to address her.

“Miss,” she hisses softly. “You shall call me ‘miss’, slut.”

“Yes, miss,” you nod obediently, selecting the indicated footstool, and placing it just before the soft, deep sofa.

“Now fetch me that red-tongued tawse,” she says archly. “I’ve longed to use it on your slovenly behind ever since I was a kitchen slave under Mrs. Kent. It shall be a delight to see how it crimsons your bottom.”

You present Veronica with the tawse, its fine golden stitching enhancing its regal, if brutal, quality. Veronica instructs you to drop to your knees and kiss the tawse which you do, its split straps somehow rough on your mouth.

“Now – stand up, move to the footstool, and kneel upon it, pushing your head to the back of the sofa,” she says with relish, her excitement clearly building at the prospect of your coming suffering.

You do so, gripping onto the sofa cushion with your hands as you bend down low. Your bum rises high above your head, feeling acutely vulnerable before the vengeful Veronica – but you have to confess, this is one of the most comfortable whipping positions you have ever adopted. You feel a hand upon the hem of your slave garb, and Veronica takes great pleasure in baring your bottom for her regal weapon, nestling the material into the small of your back.

“Red bum time, my old friend,” teases Veronica. “This is just as it should always have been…”

Snap!

You wince slightly as Veronica unleashes her cold anger upon your bottom. It’s not the hardest stroke you’ve ever taken, nor the most even. But there is something more personal about this whipping that hurts more deeply. At school you wouldn’t have given Veronica the time of day – she was a nasty bully, belittling and cruel. Now she is towering above you, tawse in hand, beating your buttocks, and everything she ever said about her being your superior feels horribly true.

Snap! Snap!

Two more stingy strokes across your bum flans, more confident than the last.

Snap! Snap! Snap!

Veronica is beginning to find her strength and rhythm. More than that, there is a joy in her strokes that you do not get from a mistress of the manor. She is actively enjoying hurting you, proving her might, her breeding over your own, whilst you crouch, bare bummed, recoiling and squirming below her. This is her vindication!

Snap! Snap! Snap!

Your bottom begins to jump and buck under the whipping, your hands gripping the cushions in a white fingered grip. Your bum gets hotter and more sensitive with each stroke, her skill and aim improving so that your bottom lifts and wobbles back into position with each stroke.

“Cry out!” she hisses. “Cry out, you slut! Let me hear you in pain!”

So – that’s it! She wants to hear you whimper – to sob and moan as she beats you, to remove any doubt about her superiority to yourself.

What will you do? Give her what she wants, break down and sob, moaning softly for mercy as she beats your backside? Turn to page 463.
Or stubbornly refuse? The Master may have authorised your beating, but only you can decide how to take it! Turn to page 464.

Page 463

Snap! Snap! Snap!

“Ah! Oooh! Uhh!” you cry in symphony to each stroke as Veronica batters your buttocks. Unleashing your inner pain helps to control your agony, and you moan and cry with each delicious stroke to your bottom.

Snap! Snap!

“Nggg! Ahh!” Your red bottom stings furiously as sing out your suffering.

Veronica crows with triumph. “Yes! That’s it, you miserable cow! Cry out all you want. Let the whole house hear how I treat your slut’s bottom! I was always your superior, always better than you, admit it!”

Snap!

“Oooh! Yes!” you cry. “I admit it! You were always better than me!”

Snap!

“Again! Louder!” she roars.

Snap!

“Ahh! Veronica was always better than me!” you shout out, an odd feeling fluttering in your belly.

“How was I better?” demands Veronica. “Explain!”

Snap!

“Uh! In every way!” you cry deliriously. Snap! “Ah! Your friends!” Snap! “Nnng! Your family!” Snap! “Ah! Your scores!” Snap! “Uh! And … and …”

Snap! Snap! Snap!

“And … what?” squeals Veronica, her tawse a red blur as it repeatedly strikes your bruising buttocks. “Say it!”

Snap! Snap! Snap!

“Uh! Ouch! Ahh! And … you were far, far prettier than I was!” you bitterly admit.

Snap!

“Ahhh!” you squeal, the stroke, and your grovelling admission propelling you into a powerful orgasm. Raise your Bum Status by 3 levels, reduce your Ambition by 1 point, but add 1 to your Submission.

Veronica watches your bum waver in the air, as you ride your humiliating orgasm. She is red faced and exhausted from her efforts, but elated. You snivel, red bottomed before her, having at last confessed your total inferiority. Your schoolyard rivalry is over. She has won. Come what may, this is how it is going to be between you forever.

Record the weakness ‘Schoolgirl Rivalry’.

If you have the Codeword DUE, Turn to page 472.

If you have the Codeword GROVEL, Turn to page 474.

Otherwise, Turn to page 473.

Page 464

Snap! Snap! Snap!

You bite down on your lip, refusing to surrender to her. This is personal – and your inner strength has never felt so powerful.

Snap! Snap! Snap!

“Damn you, slut, call out!” she hisses frantically, her shots careering wildly as she beats you, sometimes impacting your thighs or just missing all together.

Snap! Snap!

But she has no chance. You resolve that there is nothing Veronica can do that will make you cry out. Like a stone you remain impassive to her blows, whether they sting you or not. Like the professional slave girl you are, you stoically endure, and in doing so you discover a truth. Veronica is not actually a very good whipper. In fact if you separate out your emotional connection to her she’s actually rather poor.

Veronica continues to beat you for some minutes – but eventually tires. She gains some satisfaction from your reddened bottom, but is clearly upset at not having broken your will. Raise your Bum Status by 3 levels, and raise your Willpower by 1 point.

If you have the Codeword DUE, Turn to page 472.

If you have the Codeword GROVEL, Turn to page 474.

Otherwise, Turn to page 473.

Page 465

Veronica gazes upon your naked stance affectionately. “You remember your punishment position,” she says, apparently touched. “How delightful. It goes to prove that things never really change do they? As I’m not a mistress strictly speaking I’m not allowed to use that cane – but you won’t object if I use it on you for old time’s sake, will you, you little worm?”

“No,” you choke, holding back the tears as you remember your nights of misery in the dorms. “I won’t object! I promise.”

Satisfied, Veronica retrieves the cane from your bottom’s clutch, and swishes it through the air menacingly. You wince as you feel the tap of the rattan cane, still warm from where your buttocks had clutched it, against the faintly blushed moons of your upthrust bum.

“This is as it is meant to be,” intones Veronica reverently, before raising her arm high above her head…

Turn to page 468.

Page 466

“Please Veronica!” you beg shamelessly. “Please use the cane on me! I won’t tell anyone … and if any of the mistresses confront me, I’ll just say that I begged you to do it – which I do! Please! Cane me as hard as you like – only do cane me! Say you will!”

If you have the codeword GROVEL Turn to page 467.
If not, read on.

“So,” snarls Veronica. “You beg me for the cane now, but refused to beg and kneel before me at the race? Screw you, bitch! I’ll beat you as I please, and you’ll thank me for it! Stand up, slut, and pull that cane out of your arse! Place it back onto the rack and slip that rag back on yourself. It is I who will bare you for the punishment, not you.”

“Yes … Veronica,” you say, uncertain of what to call her. You quickly rise, slipping the sharp cane from your buttocks, and hang the weapon back on the rack. Slipping your slave shirt back over your naked body, you stand to attention, awaiting Veronica’s decree.

Turn to page 462.

Page 467

Veronica considers for a few moments, leaving you trembling and naked, the cane still lodged in your bum crack whilst she thinks.

“You are a weaselling slut,” ponders Veronica thoughtfully. “But since you have shown me sufficient respect I shall grant your plea, and cane you to the fullest of my skill.”

Satisfied with her decision, Veronica retrieves the cane from your bottom’s clutch, and swishes it through the air menacingly. You wince as you feel the tap of the rattan cane, still warm from where your buttocks had clutched it, against the faintly blushed moons of your upthrust bum.

“This is as it is meant to be,” intones Veronica reverently, before raising her arm high above her head…

Turn to page 468.

Page 468

Vip! Like a pistol crack, the cane impacts upon your bottom, cutting deep into your bum flesh. Veronica has used this implement before, and knows how to cane a girl with confidence. You cannot help but cry out as a thick crimson stripe decorates your defenceless behind.

“Hurt much?” enquires Veronica, a cruel smile across her face.

“Yes, miss!” you blurt automatically.

“Good.”

Vip! You gargle out a long moan as the next stroke cuts over the last, slightly slanted, your bum twitching madly with the awful sting. Veronica waits patiently for the sting to reach its height, a full fifteen seconds, before swishing down again.

Vip!

“Ugh!” you grunt, the cane slicing into the top quarter of your buttocks where the padding is at it’s thinnest. “Please, miss!” you beg. “How many must I take?”

Vip!

“Ahh!” you cry out at the crafty stroke.

“The Master didn’t say,” ponders Veronica thoughtfully, slicing another stroke into your madly twitching buttocks. Vip! “Perhaps we’ll start with three dozen stingers and see how you look from there. Oh, and be careful,” she smiles…

Vip!

“Ohh!”

“Too much wriggling and I’ll award you extras – and I intend to award them a dozen at a time…”

Vip! Vip!

Your blazing cheeks clench tightly at two strokes laid on in as many seconds.

If your Willpower is not at least 6, you buck your knees from the crafty strokes, accompanied by a chuckle from Veronica. “You broke position,” she jeers. “I warned you! A dozen extra!” She lays them upon your backside at speed and with scant mercy for her old classroom rival. Raise your Bum Status by 2 levels.

Vip! Vip! Vip!

You cry and squeal as Veronica continues her work upon your sliced buttocks. She seems to be taking a personal joy in hurting you, your relationship with her sharpening her strokes and desire to break you.

Vip! Vip!

“Uh! Oh! Veronica! Why? Why have you always been so beastly to me?” you cry as Veronica slashes tightly into your lower bum.

Vip!

“You really have to ask that?” demands Veronica. “You were a filthy little swot! All the teachers loved you, and wouldn’t give the rest of us a second glance!”

Vip! Vip!

“Oh! Ouch!” you whimper at two strokes that fold tightly over two blazing welts.

“I was just doing what everyone else secretly wanted to do!” she insists. “For their sake!”

Vip!

If your Willpower is not at least 7, you can’t help but grasp your bum in pain at a terrible stroke, the tip of which curls short into the whirl of your bum hole! Veronica cares little about this illegal stroke, and awards you with a dozen more for defiance. Raise your Bum Status by 2 levels.

Vip! Vip!

Tears begin to drip from your eyes to splash upon your toes. You have to admit, as you consider your welted, throbbing buttocks, that Veronica is a natural with the cane. She torments you both mentally and physically, her cane punctuating her insults. She hurts you, and yet ignites a suppressed longing within you – to be utterly used and abused, and your cries become more lyrical and passionate with each stroke she paints upon your blazing bottom.

Vip! Vip!

“What is worse – you are still doing it now!” insists Veronica. “Courting publicity, sucking up to the mistresses. Sometimes you seem to be the only topic of conversation in the house!”

Vip!

“Ah!”

“And now, after having been a slave for less than a year, you’re already being considered for promotion!” she fumes. “Don’t think you’ll get away with it, you tramp! When they see your cane-scarred bum, they’ll know what a disobedient little whore you really are!”

Vip! Vip!

Enraged with jealousy, Veronica canes you wickedly, until you are sobbing, and she is dripping with the sweat from her exertion. At the culmination of your three dozen your bottom is a criss-cross of cane strokes, puffy with raised ridges and fire-kissed skin. Raise your Bum Status by 4 levels.

Veronica is exhausted, throwing the cane onto the sofa, clutching your scalding cheeks in her hands to steady herself as she pants from her exertion. Eventually, having recovered somewhat, she speaks.

“I’ve done with you, bitch,” she hisses. “Get out of here, and don’t forget that rag you came in with.”

Pleased that the worst is over, you silently, stiffly rise from your bent over position, and stagger from the room, clutching your newly decorated bum.

Turn to page 476.

Page 469

You gaze slyly at Veronica. “The Master isn’t everything…” you smirk, despite feeling almost physically sick saying it.

Veronica looks appalled – speechless. This is your chance. Grabbing the dazed girl, you sweep her legs from under her, forcing her to the floor. Grasping her arm you twist it tightly behind her back. She squeals in surprise and pain.

“You’re mad!” she cries. “The Master said I could … ahh!”

You twist her arm again to silence her. “Submit, Veronica!” you spit. “Submit or I’ll rip your arm off!”

Veronica squeals out – but no one from outside comes to her rescue, guests passing outside assuming the sounds are quite normal. Eventually she has no choice…

“I submit!” she cries. “Oh! You cow! I submit!”

She sobs as she does so, broken-hearted that her opportunity to beat your bum has passed. Now it’s your turn.

Releasing her arm, you command her to lie still as you strip her. Veronica’s slave training kicks in, and she mutely allows you to remove her mock-mistress garb, lying passively in position as you do so.

“So, tell me, slave,” you say, licking your lips. “What exactly were you planning to do with me before this little revision of our status?”

Veronica sniffles. “I was … I was going to bend you over the foot of the sofa … kneeling on that footstool…”

“What a good idea!” you snarl. “Why don’t you go and do that now?”

Veronica looks round at you pleadingly – but meeting only your steely gaze she looks away and meekly fetches the footstool, placing it about a foot from the edge of the sofa. She then kneels upon it, and leans forward to bury her head in the sofa cushions. Her slim bottom rises high above her as she does so.

You stand behind her, relishing your power. “Now Veronica – be honest. What implement were you going to whip me with? You may as well be truthful, I’ll only pick something nastier if you go easy on yourself!”

“The tawse!” snuffles Veronica, her voice muffled. “It was going to be the tawse! I promise.”

You smile, and stroll leisurely over to the implement cupboard. Amongst the weapons on display is a beautiful twin-tailed tawse, a rich burgundy in colour with gold stitching. You remove it from the rack and return to Veronica’s bottom.

“Now, Veronica,” you say breezily. “I won’t promise a certain number of strokes, I intend to beat you until that bottom of your is quite red and bruised. Consider it payment for all the cruelties you inflicted upon me and my fellow classmates over the years! Prepare yourself…”

You move to raise your arm, but a call from Veronica stops you. “Wait!” she cries desperately.

“What?” you demand angrily, tawse primed to strike.

“I … I was going to make you kiss it … the tawse…” she explains hesitantly.

You raise your eyebrows. So, it seems that deep down she is just as submissive as any slave in the manor.

Will you: Grant her wish, and allow her to kiss the tawse? Turn to page 470.
Or deny her, and begin her punishment? Turn to page 471.

Page 470

You hold the tawse in both hands and present her the implement of her correction. “Very well, you may rise, turn, and kiss the tawse.”

You are prepared for treachery, but you needn’t have feared. Veronica obeys, rising swiftly and turning to plaster a kiss upon the cruel tawse that is about to bruise her backside. You lock eyes with her as she slurps upon the leather, her own eyes wet with moisture.

Gain 1 Dignity point for receiving this honour from your grateful supplicant.

After a minute you declare her reprieve over, and she obediently pulls her lips away from the tawse, wiping the drool from her mouth. Soon she is back in position, her bottom ready for your attention.

Turn to page 471.

Page 471

You swing your arm forward in a wide arc, the tawse striking her bum with a fierce snap! Veronica jolts and grunts in shock. Two blushes of red spring up on her slim bottom, accompanied by a convulsive clench of her bum cheeks. A fine first shot.

Snap! Snap!

Veronica recoils under two strokes that you inflict one on top of the other. Her bottom wobbles under the impact, and she seems to stretch forwards somewhat as if to disperse the pain.

If you wish you may award Veronica extra strokes for failing to stay still, though, as a fellow slave, you will require a heart of stone. If you wish to do this add one to your Ambition, but reduce your Submission by 1.

Snap! Snap! Snap!

You lose count of the strokes you inflict upon her bottom, Veronica howling and sobbing in defeat, but remaining as still as she can to avoid extras. Soon her bum is quite sore and red, bruises rising from where the edges of the cruel tawse have bitten her bum. You may add one Willpower point for conquering the proud Veronica.

“Well, Veronica,” you ask her smugly. “Did you enjoy your victory beating?”

You strike her buttocks to elicit a reaction. Snap!

“Yes, yes! Thank you … miss!” she blathers desperately.

You wonder briefly if Veronica will tell anybody about her illegal beating from you. You doubt it, however – she is a proud woman, who seeks promotion to mistress. If the story about her loss of control gets about, she is likely to come off the worst.

And so you stroll from the Summer House, readier than ever to face the Master in the Grand Hall.

Turn to page 476.

Page 472

Leaving you in position, your sore bottom throbbing above you, Veronica calmly walks over to the wine decanter and pours herself a glass. “I’m afraid we are not yet finished,” she says sadly. “Your behaviour when I came in was unacceptable. As an aspiring mistress I am duty bound to clamp down on such nonsense. Further strokes await you.”

She calmly finishes her wine, leaving you to your dread, desperately resisting the urge to clutch at your scalding behind. There is a clink on the tray as the empty glass is replaced. Soon you hear her heels, clicking on the wooden flooring, moving towards you.

“Bum up,” she says curtly, and you obey instinctively, offering yourself for more of the tawse.

Snap!

You resist the urge to sob as she again begins to beat your backside. The rich leather slaps your bum with a rough indifference, causing your bottom to wobble comically as the implement compresses and batters your bum flesh.

Snap! Snap!

If your Willpower is not at least 6, you begin to sag and sprawl under the continuous beating. Veronica is having none of it, and awards you plenty more for failing to keep position. Raise your Bum Status by 1 level.

Snap! Snap! Snap!

You groan out at the final strokes, delivered with greater strength, your aching bum feeling aflame with bruises. Raise your Bum Status by 2 levels.

If you have the Codeword GROVEL Turn to page 474.

Otherwise Turn to page 473.

Page 473

“And last but not least, the strokes I promised you for your defiance at the racetrack,” smiles Veronica with relish. “I have something particularly special planned for this, you’ll be pleased to know. I booked the Summer House for a reason – it has a very well stocked kitchen…”

Veronica departs for a moment, leaving you, beaten bum upthrust in the air, to ponder her meaning. She soon returns, clutching a small jar containing some kind of rough looking vegetables.

“Now,” she grins, “stay absolutely still. Needless to say, if your hands come anywhere near your arse they’ll be hell to pay…”

Veronica unscrews the lid, and produces a short piece of peeled ginger. Pressing her fingers to your bottom, she pushes the ginger deep into your bottom hole – it slides in wetly until it is firmly lodged inside.

At first the sensation is merely uncomfortable, but soon a fierce itching begins deep in your anus. Veronica laughs, and sits in the sofa opposite to watch your discomfort. The itching soon becomes a burning sensation, as if she has inserted a fiery brand into your bum hole!

“Raw ginger is an irritant, you see,” laughs Veronica as she observes your bum waver. “A little trick Mrs. Kent showed me one day. The poor victim feels like she’s on fire inside and out. I’ll let you enjoy the sensation for a bit, then I’ll turn up the heat!”

You moan and gasp, perspiration speckling on your forehead and bottom. You cannot help but perform a humiliating, sinuous dance with your bruised buttocks, the terrible ginger within scorching your most intimate hole. Lose 2 Dignity points as you perform this shameless dance before your worst enemy. Also lose 1 Fame point. Even when you remove the ginger, the terrible soreness will remain throughout the day – distracting the Master and his deliberations as you shuffle and clench from the irritating burn.

Eventually Veronica tires of the display and rises from her sofa. “Time to raise the temperature a bit more, I think,” she grins.

Snap! Snap!

With the distraction of your fiery bum hole, it will take all your reserves of will not to make a spectacle of your self.

If your Willpower is less than 8, the combined harassment of your buttocks and scorching sensation in your bum hole cause your hands to reach for your backside, desperate to remove the fiery ginger. Your knuckles are slapped away by the snapping tawse. “Bad girl!” chides Veronica wickedly, before dealing a spare dozen strokes to your clenching bum cheeks. Raise your Bum Status by 1 level.

Snap! Snap! Snap!

You sob your way through your final set in noisy defeat, desperately trying to remain as still as possible so as to hasten the removal of the ginger from your bottom. The cruel tawse does its work, painting your bum cheeks a rosy red with three dozen strokes of the best Veronica can inflict. Raise your Bum Status by 3 levels.

Panting from her exertions, Veronica feels across your scalding cheeks appreciatively. “A fine piece of work, even if I do say so myself,” she says grandly. “I’m going to enjoy becoming a mistress. And since you stand no chance of becoming one yourself, I hope to have the opportunity to beat you again, some time. Perhaps we could make it a weekly event? Well – we shall see…”

Veronica returns the magnificent tawse back to its place in the cupboard. “You may remove the ginger from your bum when I have departed. Until then, you shall remain in position.”

Veronica does not go immediately, but stays for another glass of wine, observing the wiggle of your freshly beaten arse, burning outside and inside. She chuckles and taunts you a little more – but eventually tires of your company, marching out of the Summer House smartly.

The moment the door is closed you pluck the fearful ginger from your intimate hole, flushing it away in the Summer House toilets. Your bum has been thoroughly beaten, and you walk with an awkward waddle. Your destiny with the Master awaits … but you have never felt less ready.

Turn to page 476.

Page 474

Veronica lowers the tawse. “Because you showed me respect at the races, this shall conclude your punishment,” she says grandly, as if she were a high court judge. “Mercy and fairness must ever run in the blood of a true mistress. You may now thank me for your strokes.”

“Thank you for my beating, miss,” you whimper, happy to say anything to spare your bum more grief.

“You may rise and leave – doubtless you are nervous about your hearing before the Master,” she declares. “You have every reason to be. I have no doubt he’ll have you enslaved for life. The Master has no time for losers. You may go.”

You bite your tongue and leave whilst the going is good…

Turn to page 476.

Page 475

You crawl back to Mistress Jessica, your well caned arse blazing above you from the Master’s kiss. Mistress Jessica almost looks envious to see you so used, but instead asks politely if you have learned a valuable lesson from your experience. You reply to the positive – although you are sore, somehow you’d do it all again! Anything for the Master’s gaze to cross your own!

If you have the codeword LOSER Turn to page 457.

Otherwise Turn to page 476.

Page 476

Your belly is a-flutter with nerves. Your meeting with the Master is nigh! This time he shall decide upon your permanent assignment, how you shall serve him for all eternity in his mansion of submission and obedience. Mistress Jessica escorts you to the dressing maids, who again wash and clean you with dear reverence, perfuming you lightly.

You are surprised when Mistress Jessica baldly asks you how you wish to be dressed – as a slave or a mistress.

If you chose to be dressed as a slave, you are stripped entirely naked, your hands secured behind your back with silver handcuffs, and a collar locked around your neck. Mistress Jessica shall lead you to the Master herself. You can add one point to your Submission if you do this.

If you choose to be dressed as a Mistress, you are clad in tight, form fitting rubber, which moulds to your body and reflects the light. You look fearsome and ruthless. Add one point to your Ambition if you do this.

Now Turn to page 477.

Page 477

Mistress Jessica escorts you into the Grand Hall, once again packed with guests, slaves and mistresses. Word has gotten out that you are to be judged today, and the whole house is eager to hear the Master’s decree. You know that another slave girl is also to be judged today, but you recoil in shock when you see who it is.

Veronica, dressed in tight leather, bearing a whip, has chosen today to be judged as well. Your old enemy smiles coldly when she sees you – it is clear she wishes to become a mistress.

The Master sits resplendent upon his oaken throne, his loyal cockslaves massaging his thighs slyly, each desperate for permission to pleasure his regal member. He indicates for you to stand next to Veronica, which you do despite your dislike of her.

“You have served me well and long,” says the Master to you, the audience hanging upon his words. “Long enough to have formed your own conclusions. How is it that you wish to serve me? As a slave? Or mistress?”

The Master has asked, and you must respond. How will you reply? A slave? Turn to page 478.
A mistress? Turn to page 486.

Page 478

You can see Veronica almost sigh with relief as you drop to your knees. “Please, my Master,” you beg. “I desire only to serve you as your most menial slave. Use me as you wish – beat me, ridicule me, anything you desire. I shall serve at your direction only. For myself … I wish for nothing but your satisfaction.”

There is a loud murmur across the crowd. This was not the answer the guests expected. The Master is unphased, however.

“It is a good answer,” he concurs. “An honourable answer. Without slaves to do my bidding, what sort of Master would I be? You shall serve me forever, and forget all ambition … but where to place you?”

The Master is silent, as he carefully ponders, your fate. The whole hall holds its breath.

If you have 20 or more Fame Points, Turn to page 479.
If you have 19 or fewer Fame Points, Turn to page 481.

Page 479

“You are a resourceful creature, powerfully curious, and justly famed for your slavish devotion to punishment and self improvement,” the Master says. “You have never backed down from a challenge, no matter the consequences to your bottom, and indeed all the house knows you by sight. A remarkable achievement for a slave who has served for less than a year.”

If your Submission is 10 or more and you have two or more of the following Codewords: HONOUR, TRIAL, THROWN, Turn to page 480.
If not, Turn to page 481.

Page 480

“But above all,” he adds, with a smile, “you care only for the pleasure of your punisher – never yourself. Whilst other slaves dream of advancement and power, you dream only to serve, no matter how base the command or fierce the caning. You are indeed the perfect slave, more worthy than any kitchen slut or cleaning whore who scurries in the darkness of the manor, fearing the beatings that are rightfully theirs. Only one such as you can join the chosen.”

The hall begins to reverberate with excitement – such a declaration has not been made by the Master in an eon.

“I declare that this slave shall join my coterie,” roars the Master in a tone that shakes the hall. “She shall be one of my cockslaves, there to service me, unthanked, but eternally rewarded by my essence, every day of her eternal life!”

There is a mighty cheer in the hall, and your heart fills with elation! The Master’s cockslave! You shall be the envy of every slave – to be able to imbibe that divine fluid forever, which shudders and binds the body tighter than any orgasm! It is your ultimate submissive dream. Veronica looks upon you with pure, unabashed, jealousy. Perhaps she shall become a mistress, perhaps not. It does not matter. The Master is all that matters now, and you are his forever.

A cockslave never speaks, her words must never trouble the Master. She remains topless at all times so the Master my appreciate her treasures, should he choose. A cockslave never washes herself – another slave pampers and preens the cockslave so that her full attention can be spared for the Master. A cockslave has one sacred task – to make sure than not a drop of the Master’s essence ever touches the ground. The task is a full one. For the Master never sleeps, his cock never softens, his essence is constantly refilled, and his desires can never be truly sated. Silently, you work in unspoken shifts with your sister cockslaves, so that the Master is continually pleasured. When he seeks comfort from other slaves or mistresses, you are there to serve – to lick his balls clean of spilt seed, to clean the faces of women when the essence is fired across their eyes or noses in moments of careless ecstasy. Every drop you taste is a thousand wonders of pleasure. Your bottom takes a heavy toll, for the Master brooks not the slightest error or failure. Fellow cockslaves eagerly hold you down for thrashings that blister and bruise your bottom with their strength. Some nights, when the Master is in a fury, every cockslave must bear her bum for his wrath, the cries of his bound slave girls echo through the manor in bare bottom beatings that last all night.

And yet you savour it all. You have become the supreme slave, never out of the thoughts of the Master, and will spend all your life with him until eternity ends.

Your adventure ends here…

Page 481

“It is only fair that you are assigned to a duty that suits you best,” says the Master at last. “I have studied you long – and this is my decree:”

What is your highest attribute? Ambition? Turn to page 482.
Dignity? Turn to page 483.
Submission? Turn to page 484.
Willpower? Turn to page 485.

If two or more of your attributes are equally the highest, you may pick the attribute of your choice. Choose carefully – for this will seal your eternal fate.

Page 482

“You are ambitious, manipulative and cruel,” declares the Master. “Unfitting characteristics for a loyal slave. Consequently I send you back to where you started. You shall serve as a kitchen slave, forever out of my site, and controlled by the rough tawse of Mrs. Kent, who shall have licence to beat and use you as she wishes. Serve me loyally, and without complaint, troublesome one – and perhaps I shall summon you again in a century or so for re-evaluation.”

You fall to your knees and beg for mercy. A lowly kitchen slave? Never to be seen by Master or mistress? Locked away in the basement dorms with other failed, broken slaves for all time? What could be worse?

And yet, when Mistress Jessica attaches a leash to your neck, and pulls you away, you submit – for how can you not? You have imbibed the Master’s essence, and must obey him until the end of time itself.

Mrs. Kent is pleased to see you. She has the stool by the fireplace set up, the flames roaring hot so you will not get cold during your welcome beating. Glumly, you strip, and fold yourself over the stool, all hopes of command gone, as Mrs. Kent fetches her tawse from the nearby cupboard.

This is how it shall be forever – you a lowly kitchen slut, feeding on scraps, whipped for nothing worse than having an unwhipped bottom, whilst the Master eyes over his slave girls above with a lusty and careful eye.

Your adventure ends here…

Page 483

“Despite your trials, you have maintained a grace and charm that belies your lowly status,” announces the Master, his rich voice lending hope to your heart. “It is appropriate therefore for you to assume the mantle of a pleasure slave – schooled as much in arts, dance and poetry as obedience and suffering. You shall serve my guests in the Grand Hall, perform plays and songs for them, and delight them in their bedrooms and chambers.”

Small tears form in your eyes. This is a prestigious service – not only because you shall be comparatively well dressed and pampered, but because the Master’s gaze will cross you nearly every day as you perform. To be an obedient slave in his sight is all you desire!

The life of a pleasure slave is hard – new songs, dances and plays from across all the years of time must be mastered and performed. Miss Nadine, your mistress, is forgetful and incompetent, often blaming her slaves unfairly for failures that are her own fault. Pleasuring guests can be both delightful and demeaning, and only sometimes are you given permission to come during your sexual adventures. Your bottom is a favourite target for the crueller guests, for each one of them fancy themselves as supreme masters.

And yet … it is all worth it. Whilst you may not be a mistress, at least you are not a menial slave – scrubbing and toiling in the darkness. For the Master’s gaze falls upon you, demanding your submission and obedience. And you, thankfully, willingly, provide it for all eternity…

Your adventure ends here…

Page 484

“You were born to be a slave,” declares the Master, “and it is not fitting that your menial ego should in any way be furnished otherwise. You would serve me in anything, and therefore I may dispatch you without care for your own feelings, which are irrelevant. You shall serve as a cockslave for the guests. They shall take their pleasure of you whilst engaging in more meaningful entertainments. Silent and submissive, you shall serve without a voice, and be content to grovel naked at the feet of my valued guests. That is all I shall provide you with – for service to me is its own reward.”

You drop to your knees and thank your Master, although you do it with a heavy heart. It is him you wish to serve, not his guests – but his will must be done.

As a cockslave you serve in the dining rooms, chambers, gardens and bedrooms of the guests. A cockslave pleasures others, but seldom receives pleasure herself. You are silent, forbidden to disturb the concentration of the guests. Naked, and on your knees, your profile is low and forgettable. Soon your deeds are forgotten across the house as you selflessly service the guests invisibly beneath the tables, or privately in their chambers.

During the best days you serve in the grand hall. Although you catch only fleeting glances of the Master – your attention loyally focused upon his guests’ pleasure as he decreed – you fancy that he sees you and remembers you sometimes. It is this thought that keeps you toiling alone in the darkness for years beyond count, whilst the Master, his impenetrable mind on higher matters, scours the hall for new talents.

Your adventure ends here…

Page 485

“Your endurance and tolerance of the whip is legendary,” declares the Master, haughtily. “None but the firmest discipline can contain you. I proclaim you a whipping slave, there to pleasure the guests by presenting them with the greatest gift imaginable – a willingly presented bottom for punishment. The delight in whipping a girl’s bottom, willingly and humbly presented for correction, is very great. You shall serve me through your suffering, from now until evermore.”

You tremble at the pronouncement – but the Master is wise. In your heart you love only the cane, the strap and the tawse. A day without a bare bummed beating is like an empty husk to you. Truly the Master knows you. Truly you will suffer for his knowledge.

From this day forth not a day passes without the earnest and vengeful attempts of the guests upon your stoic buttocks. The bite of the cane becomes as familiar to you as water, the sting of the strap like breathing. Many a guest humiliates you, or makes you beg for more – yet you are never truly broken. For you love the whip as you love the Master.

Each day your mistress directs you to a new chamber. Within may lurk a suited businessman, arrogant and strong, or perhaps a pampered Victorian lady, who believes souly in the virtue of punishment to the buttocks. Occasionally they invent a crime you have committed – sometimes they dispatch with such niceties all together. The most important thing is that you are willing to bare up, bend over, and take the cane. And you do so thankfully, gratefully, for you suffer for the Master.

In the mean time the Master sits on his oaken throne, uncaring of your suffering, his eyes searching out for the next slave to fall at his feet and serve him until the end of time…

Your adventure ends here…

Page 486

An excited murmur crosses the hall as you respond. This is what the guests’ expected to hear. Veronica, standing next to you, visibly tenses with rage.

The Master looks upon you sternly, considering his reply.

“My Master!” blurts Veronica in barely contained fury. “This cannot be! This lowly slut can never become a mistress!”

“Do not dare to address me unannounced, slave!” spits the Master, his baleful gaze turning upon your old school enemy.

Despite the power of his frown, Veronica, overcome with jealous rage, continues. “I do so to protect you, my Master. It is quite impossible for this wonton slattern to become a mistress! I have proof!”

The Master raises his eyebrows. Your stomach turns. What dirt has Veronica dug up on you?

If you have the Codeword BOTTLE or APPOINTMENT, Turn to page 487.

If not, Turn to page 489.

Page 487

“This weaselling slut, on her very first day at the manor, refused to go through with a just appointment with Miss. Rose for a beating,” declares Veronica.

You see Miss. Rose, standing in the crowd, watching proceedings, frown. Evidently she does not approve of being dragged into this matter.

“She interrupted a punishment beating,” continues Veronica, “of a lazy maid called Clarissa. She agreed to take her strokes in the cleaning maid’s stead – but never did, chickening out. She has defied the rules of the house, insulted your authority as Master, and acted in a most presumptuous and arrogant manner. Such an individual can never serve you with loyalty – she’s a traitor!”

There is a gasp across the assembled crowd. The Master turns to Miss. Rose, who sadly nods to confirm the story.

If your Dignity is 8 or more, Turn to page 488.
If not, read on.

A terrible guilt overwashes you. You fall to your knees before the Master.

“Oh, Master! Forgive me!” you beg. “I was an ignorant fool back then! It was my first day … I did not understand…”

The Master looks upon you coolly. “Miss. Rose is not one to make herself incomprehensible. You knew what was expected of you. Slave girls do not really change … I am disappointed.”

Tears wash from your eyes at these words of condemnation from your beloved Master. Mistress Jessica, moved by your pitiful display, comes to stand next to your sobbing form, running a hand through your hair.

“My Master,” she says, a tinge of emotion touching her voice, “do not let this girl be entirely wasted … she will serve you loyally as a slave I think – if you can find a post sufficiently meagre for her.”

“Agreed,” says the Master, sitting back in his throne. “She shall serve me as my slave, forever – but in what capacity, I wonder…”

Turn to page 481.

Page 488

You clear your throat politely. Despite the terror lancing through your veins, you give off a perfect lady-like calm. “Far be it from me to question a fellow slave,” you say politely, “but the law of the house is quite clear on this matter. The fact is I was not compelled to obey Miss. Rose until I had accepted the hospitality of the Master. At the time the appointment was made, I was still outside the house, unsheltered and unprotected by the Master. Consequently the Master’s law did not apply.”

This explanation receives a cool reception. It is evident that the guests are not wholly convinced. However, the Master concurs. “Your interpretation is correct,” he announces. “My law had not yet come to pass upon you. You were still … free.”

The last word seems to almost stick in the Master’s throat. Freedom for a supplicant is an anathema to the Master.

Your chances have not been wrecked, but they have been lessened. Lose 5 Fame Points.

Turn to page 499.

Page 489

“This creature is weak, and easily broken!” Veronica declared proudly. “She is unable to endure a proper beating, and consequently has no place dealing suffering to other slaves.”

If you have the Codeword PRECISE, Turn to page 490.

If you have the Codeword THROWN, Turn to page 491.

If not, Turn to page 492.

Page 490

The Master laughs, his sycophantic mistresses laughing with him.

“I cannot accept,” he says, trying to suppress his smile, “that a slave personally trained by Miss. Rose is unable to endure the lash! Supplicants of Miss. Rose cannot escape without an appreciation of the whip, for she is a forceful artist! I fear you exaggerate, slave!”

Veronica goes pale. Your loyalty to the Master skyrockets. Truly he knows you well!

Turn to page 499.

Page 491

The Master dismisses Veronica’s suggestion. “I have seen her whipped often enough,” he says, waving his hand dismissively. “Besides … I know full well where her loyalties lie – and that is the most important thing.”

The Master gazes at you meaningfully. So – he does know you threw the race in his honour! You did not suffer shame and ignominy for nothing.

Veronica quietly fumes, but she cannot contradict the Master. Her objection has been overruled.

Turn to page 499.

Page 492

“Quite a claim,” muses the Master. “How do you intend to test your assertion?”

“Please, Master, let the girl be whipped – and whipped hard,” says Veronica, practically drooling. “If she can take her strokes – so be it. If not, she must be condemned to eternal slavehood!”

The Master considers this. “It seems a fair suggestion. But I warn you, Veronica. Whatever this slave takes, you shall too – fair is fair, after all?”

Veronica does not look too pleased, but bows her head in agreement.

“Miss Rose – you shall sere the buttocks of this slave,” declares the Master, indicating you. “Mistress Jessica, you shall perform the same upon the slave Veronica. I give you full licence for positions and implements.”

You glance coolly towards Veronica. So – it has come to this. Apparently it is not enough that you must prove your determination to the Master, you must also defeat your arch-rival too. Veronica’s steely expression and look of pure hatred seems to stab into your soul. This is personal. Veronica intends to win.

If you have the weakness ‘Schoolgirl Rivalry’ Turn to page 494.
Otherwise, read on.

After a few moments of respectful debate the two highly respected mistresses come up with their scheme.

“Master, with your permission,” says Mistress Jessica, bowing formally, “we suggest the two competitors be fixed to the whipping stocks, very close to you – so that their faces are readily discernable. A fixed number of strokes, I suggest four dozen, with extras for weakness, shall be inflicted upon their bottoms – otherwise loyal pride may create an unreasonable resilience in them, which might lead to unacceptable damage to your property – their whipped backsides. You, my lord, shall be the final arbiter of their fate, judging how well they take their strokes.”

The Master nods. “This is acceptable and fair – prepare them.”

There is a sudden movement across the hall. Slaves go to fetch the stocks to hold you in place. The guests demand fresh refreshments, whipping any slaves who are slow off the mark. Veronica, hiding her nerves, verbally lashes out at you as you are bidden to approach the stocks.

“At last the truth will out!” she hisses. “I shall ascend and you will become a kitchen slut, as you deserve to be!”

“You’re pathetic, Veronica,” you retort hotly. “We’re one step away from promotion, but all you can think of is the past.”

Veronica snarls at you. “I will not have you following me in my shadow as I rise in power. It’s time to put you where you belong!”

Your argument is cut short as Mistress Jessica and Miss Rose move in behind you, prodding you forward towards the stocks. The two of you approach, trembling in suppressed fear and desire as you approach the foot of the Master’s throne, his piercing eyes flicking towards the two of you coldly.

The stocks are low, and you are made to kneel, inserting your head and arms into the open mechanism. Once in position, the stocks are firmly shut, trapping your head and arms, and locked in place to prevent movement. The low position of your head forces your buttocks up high. If you are dressed as a Mistress, your tight leather leggings are tugged down sharply to reveal your buttocks for punishment.

“My lord, with your permission,” declares Mistress Jessica, “as these two slaves are on the cusp of becoming mistresses, it seems fitting that each choose their own implement for punishment.”

“Agreed,” growls the Master. “I will be intrigued to see which they pick.”

Mistress Jessica bows and then turns to Veronica, pitifully trapped in her stocks, bum raised high in the air to the delight of the murmuring guests. “Choose your implement, slave – paddle, tawse or cane?”

Veronica ponders for a few short moments before announcing her decision. “Please, mistress – I choose the tawse.”

Mistress Jessica snaps her fingers, and moments later a slave has placed firm looking, weather worn tawse in her hands. Miss Rose moves in front of you, causing you to crane your neck up painfully to look upon her severe magnificence.

“What about you, slave? Paddle, tawse or cane?” she says slyly, her eyes flicking hungrily to your upthrust buttocks in anticipation.

If you have the trait ‘Lust for the Cane’ Turn to page 496.
If not read on:

What do you choose? The paddle? Turn to page 493.
The tawse? Turn to page 495.
The cane? Turn to page 496.

Page 493

Miss. Rose snorts in annoyance as you ask for the paddle. “You wet fish!” she cries. “Not tough enough to take more for the Master?”

“Please, miss, this competition is only about who takes their strokes with greater fortitude,” you point out. “Using a lighter implement makes it more likely I’ll win. I wish to be a mistress now, not a slave.”

Veronica groans as she hears your reasoning, clearly wishing she had chosen the same tactic. You now have an advantage over her! Still, the guests, and the Master, are disappointed that what could be your last slave punishment is not to be more trying for you. Lose 2 Fame Points.

With implements selected, the two stern mistresses, the cruellest in the manor, step behind their defenceless prey. Miss. Rose has no intention of letting you get away with a light beating – her reputation before the Master is at stake!

With a nod from the Master, the two mistresses strike their victims simultaneously.

Crack! Snap!

Your torment begins, a simultaneous grunt escaping from both your own and Veronica’s lips as the mistresses, each eager to outdo the other, strike fiercely.

Crack! Snap! Crack! Snap!

You bite your lip through a heavy dozen strokes, grateful to your soul that you chose a less agonising implement than Vernoica. You wonder how you are doing … since there will be a fixed set of strokes with no repeats, it is difficult to see who is in the lead. Ultimately it will be Master who will decide – you can only hope he shall be as impartial as he is rumoured to be.

Crack! Snap! Crack! Snap!

Three dozen in and you can barely suppress the cries of suffering in your throat. Your bum feels horribly blistered, and the strokes are delivered with a clockwork precision that is maddening. Veronica is crying out too, however, the cruel tawse lashing her red-flushed cheeks with an unrepentant strength. Perhaps she is weakening?

Crack! Snap! Crack! Snap!

The final dozen end with an extra hard flourish from your whippers, which produces a great cry from your lips. Veronica looks shaken and dishevelled. You can only imagine how you look!

Raise your Bum Status by 3 levels.

If your Dignity and Willpower are 6 or more, Turn to page 497.
If not, Turn to page 498.

Page 494

Your heart swells with despair. Who are you kidding? Veronica always wins … to defy her is simply to bring more suffering upon yourself. The thought of embarrassing yourself in front of the Master is unbearable to you.

“My Master,” you blurt suddenly. “I ask your forgiveness … Veronica … is right in what she says about me. I am not worthy to become a mistress. Please … accept my eternal enslavement as recompense for my folly.”

The Master seems genuinely surprised, flicking his eyes cautiously to Veronica. “So be it,” he says. “It seems that you do lack fire after all. But how shall you serve me, I wonder?”

Turn to page 481.

Page 495

Miss. Rose nods, snapping her fingers just like Mistress Jessica. Soon, a cringing slave presents a bright red leather tawse into her hands, its twin tails soon to impact upon your bottom.

With a nod from the Master, the two mistresses strike their victims simultaneously.

Snap! Snap!

Your torment begins, a simultaneous grunt escaping from both your own and Veronica’s lips as the mistresses, each eager to outdo the other, strike fiercely.

Snap! Snap! Snap! Snap!

You bite your lip through a heavy dozen strokes, the tawse lashing your buttocks hungrily, great red welts from the twin tails glowing upon your stinging behind. You wonder how you are doing … since there will be a fixed set of strokes with no repeats, it is difficult to see who is in the lead. Ultimately it will be Master who will decide – you can only hope he shall be as impartial as he is rumoured to be.

Snap! Snap! Snap! Snap!

Three dozen in and you cannot suppress the cries of suffering in your throat. Your bum feels horribly blistered, and the strokes are delivered with a clockwork precision that is maddening. Veronica is crying out too, however, the cruel tawse lashing her red-flushed cheeks with an unrepentant strength. Perhaps she is weakening?

Snap! Snap! Snap! Snap!

The final dozen end with an extra hard flourish from your whippers, which produces a great cry from your lips. Veronica looks shaken and dishevelled. You can only imagine how you look!

Raise your Bum Status by 4 levels.

If your Dignity and Willpower are 7 or more, Turn to page 497.
If not, Turn to page 498.

Page 496

Miss. Rose smiles cruelly as you beg for the cane. “I hoped you’d say that,” she jeers. “A final whipping should be magnificent. I promise to test you fully.”

Out of the corner of your eye you can see Veronica smiling. Of course! This competition is about who can take their strokes with the greatest fortitude, and you have chosen the cruellest possible implement. You curse Veronica for her cunning, but your choice is greatly appreciated by the guests, who love to see a poor slave girl caned of her own volition. Gain 1 Fame Point.

With a nod from the Master, the two mistresses strike their victims simultaneously.

Vip! Snap!

Your torment begins, a simultaneous grunt escaping from both your own and Veronica’s lips as the mistresses, each eager to outdo the other, strike fiercely.

Vip! Snap! Vip! Snap!

You bite your lip through a sharp dozen strokes, your backside soon crisscrossed with numerous horizontal lines of fire that throb painfully. You wonder how you are doing … since there will be a fixed set of strokes with no repeats, it is difficult to see who is in the lead. Ultimately it will be Master who will decide – you can only hope he shall be as impartial as he is rumoured to be.

Vip! Snap! Vip! Snap!

Three dozen in and you can barely suppress the cries of suffering in your throat. Your bum feels horribly sliced, and the strokes are delivered with a clockwork precision that is maddening. Veronica is crying out too, however, the cruel tawse lashing her red-flushed cheeks with an unrepentant strength. Perhaps she is weakening?

Crack! Snap! Crack! Snap!

The final dozen end with an extra hard flourish from your whippers, which produces a great cry from your lips. Veronica looks shaken and dishevelled. You can only imagine how you look!

Raise your Bum Status by 5 levels.

If your Dignity and Willpower are 8 or more, Turn to page 497.
If not, Turn to page 498.

Page 497

The hall falls silent as the Master considers the two shivering, beaten girls before him. A smile breaks across his faces as he looks upon you. “I must confess, that you bore yourself with greater dignity and fortitude than your opponent. You have won the match.”

Your heart fills with joy! A compliment from the Master! Raise your Dignity by 2 points.

He turns to Veronica, who shakes in the stocks beneath his gaze. “You lost,” he states plainly, “and your accusations counts for nothing. This does not necessarily mean that you will not become a mistress – but know that this episode has cost you some of my respect.”

Veronica seems to wilt under this description, and, as the two of you are released from bondage, you cannot help but grin smugly at her.

Turn to page 499.

Page 498

The hall falls silent as the Master considers the two shivering, beaten girls before him. He turns to Veronica. “It seems your assertion is correct,” he growls. “This girl has humiliated herself with her poor endurance. A mistress that lacks the respect of her slaves is no mistress at all.”

He claps his hands loudly, and slaves rush to the stocks to release you and Veronica from your bondage. You are numb with shock … the Master is rejecting you!

“Since you cannot be a Mistress, you shall serve me forever as a lowly slave,” he declares loudly, causing your head to droop in despair. Veronica grins smugly at you. She has won.

“But where to assign you?” ponders the Master.

Turn to page 481.

Page 499

“With all objections out of the way,” declares the Master, “it is time to consider your request to serve me as a mistress of the house.”

Your stomach swims with nerves, the guests are practically on the edge of their seats.

If you have at least 30 Fame Points Turn to page 500.
If you have at least 25 Fame Points and the Codeword THROWN Turn to page 500.
If not, Turn to page 501.

Page 500

“You have not served me long,” says the Master grandly, “and yet the tales of your sufferance, courage, submission and control have reached even my ears. You are famous throughout the house, and justly so. There are few services you have performed that you have not excelled at. You are clearly meant for greater things. Therefore, I charge you to serve me forever as a mistress of this house, to punish and control slaves, to seek your own pleasures and enlightenments, and to serve the guests as you serve me.”

Tears of joy flood into your eyes. “Oh! Thank you, Master!” you gush. “I shall serve you loyally forever!” You may add one point to all your Attributes. Also, if you are wearing The Mark of Shame, you may remove it now.

The Master smiles and nods. Then he turns to face Veronica.

If you have the codeword VICTORY, Turn to page 502.
If not, Turn to page 503.

Page 501

“You are an impressive individual,” concedes the Master. “By this point in their training, most slaves are fully broken, all their ambitions crushed. They serve me numbly and without thought. In turn, I think nothing of them. Despite that, you have shown only fleeting ambition. Either through excessive caution or sheer incompetence, you have not shown much promise in your time here. Therefore your request to become a mistress is roundly rejected. Instead, you shall serve me forever more as a slave.”

You fall to your knees and weep. So close … and yet now the Master will never be further away.

“But what role to assign you is the question…” muses the Master.

Turn to page 481.

Page 502

“Veronica,” states the Master, his voice like gravel. “Your poor performance at the Pony Girl races indicates a weakness of character unfitting for the role of mistress. Therefore you shall be taken from this place and sent to serve in the kitchens, forevermore out of my sight. Mrs. Kent shall keep your rebellious and incompetent spirit in line from now on. Remove this slave from my presence!”

Veronica falls to her knees weeping. “Master! No! Please! Give me another chance! I beg you!”

Her cries fall on deaf ears. Soon several mistresses have dragged her from the hall to the cruel laughter of the guests. It seems that Veronica shall never trouble you again!

Turn to page 507.

Page 503

“Despite your unseemly outbursts earlier,” growls the Master, causing Veronica to droop her head in shame, “I must confess I have never seen a woman more eager to dominate and command. You possess both the skill and the cruelty to be a most effective mistress. Therefore you shall become one. Let the slaves tremble at your passing as you inflict order in my name.”

Veronica almost cannot contain herself. “Thank you, Master! I am yours to command!”

Veronica looks overjoyed as the council is dismissed, the only sour note in her inauguration is your own promotion.

If you have the Codeword TELL, Turn to page 504.

If not, Veronica scowls at you, and exits the hall. Turn to page 507.

Page 504

Veronica sidles up to you as the hall begins to disperse. The Master has vanished from his throne, his cockslaves with him, and Veronica smiles at you wickedly as she approaches.

“Well, my fellow mistress, you must be feeling very pleased with yourself,” she says sarcastically. “But don’t think you can ever escape my grasp. I happen to have in my possession a certain book which has been defaced by a notorious slave. It is a book of punishments – for mistresses only. You scrawled your tawdry punishment of Candy in it whilst you were still a slave.”

A chill runs down you. “But I’m a mistress now!” you insist.

“Irrelevant – you were a slave whilst the crime was committed,” says Veronica smartly. “This will cost you your position, should it get out…”

Blackmailed! Is there no end to Veronica’s machinations?

“What do want … for this not to get out?” you murmur in defeat.

“My dear,” she smiles wickedly. “I wish you to suffer. Every night, at ten thirty sharp, you shall report to my new chambers. There you shall strip naked, bend over and touch your toes, and receive twelve strokes of the cane – counting each stroke and thanking me at every cut. You may be a mistress, but from today, you shall never know a backside free of blisters.”

If you have the weakness ‘Schoolgirl Rivalry’ Turn to page 506.

What do you do? Refuse to be blackmailed and stride away defiantly? Turn to page 505.
Or agree to Veronica’s terms? Turn to page 506.

Page 505

Your defiance costs you dearly. To scrawl in a sacred punishment book is the most terrible offence and you are brought before a furious Master, who accuses you of abusing his trust and shelter.

“I’m so sorry, Master!” you quail.

You collapse into sobs as the Master summons the steward to take you away.

Your adventure ends here…

Page 506

It is hopeless to defy Veronica – her hold over you is total.

You may continue your adventure, but the deal you have made will cost your bottom dear. From this point on, your Bum Status will never drop below ‘Throbbing’. Each night Veronica lashes you with cruel glee, and it is impossible for your backside ever to recover fully.

Lose 1 Ambition point.

Turn to page 507.

Page 507

Mistress Hub

You are a Mistress of the manor. You spend much of the day in idle pursuits, being waited upon by trembling slaves and whipping those whom you feel are slacking in their labours. You have your own quarters and can rest and relax fully between your adventures in the house. You may lower your Bum Status to ‘Unblemished’ whenever you return to the Mistress Hub. At all times you wear your elaborate Mistresses garb, which can be as exotic as your imagination allows. If you have the trait ‘Costume Roleplay’, your Ambition score will always be considered to be at least 10 regardless of its actual value.

From now on you will be required to keep track of your Cruelty score. This starts at 0, and increases when you inflict mean, vindictive or overly harsh acts on the house slaves. A certain amount of cruelty is expected, perhaps even required, of a mistress – but the Master may struggle to tolerate continued outrageous abuses of power.

If ever your Cruelty score is 20 or more, Turn to page 665.

After enjoying your luxuries for many days and nights your thoughts gradually turn towards the future. There is now only one position in the manor that eludes you – that of Supreme Mistress. If the Master favours you enough, or if you can disgrace the current incumbent, you could replace Mistress Jessica as the Master’s favourite.

You cannot do this resting on your laurels, so it is time for some positive action.

Will you? Visit someone in the Manor? Turn to page 508.
Explore the Manor? Turn to page 565.
Attend to your duties as a mistress? Turn to page 612.

At any time you can petition the Master for promotion to Supreme Mistress – but beware! Should you fail, Mistress Jessica will wreak a terrible revenge! If you wish to do this Turn to page 666.

Alternatively, if you are happy with your current position, you can resign yourself to be a Mistress for life. If you wish to do this, Turn to page 662.

Page 508

If you have the Codeword DARKSOUL Turn to page 563.

As a mistress you have licence to see who you wish.

Who do you wish to visit? Veronica? Turn to page 509.
Mistress Jessica? Turn to page 525.
Mr. Sullivan? Turn to page 529.

You cannot visit the same person twice.

If you do not wish to visit anyone at this time Turn to page 507.

Page 509

If you have the Codeword DARKSOUL, Turn to page 564.

If you have the Codeword VICTORY, Turn to page 510.

If you have the Codeword TELL, Turn to page 520.

On a whim, you decide to visit Veronica. She is not in her quarters, rather she is overseeing her slave detail in the house’s power room. There, half naked slave girls shovel coal throughout the day into a furnace to provide electricity for guests used to more modern conveniences. They are filthy, sweaty, smelly creatures, ground down by constant toil – kept loyal only by the lash.

Veronica is plying her skills even now, a slave girl, on the point of exhaustion, dropped a shovel full of coal before reaching the furnace. Her buttocks are paying the price, as she is bent over a hot steam pipe to be lashed by Veronica’s stinging tawse.

She whimpers pitifully under the strokes, all fight gone in her, the rest of the slaves pushing themselves harder to avoid a similar fate.

“I don’t have time for you,” snaps Veronica, as her tawse cracks across the whimpering slave girl’s buttocks. “Several guests from the twenty first century are putting on a computer demonstration for the Master – it’s taking every scrap of energy we can produce. Either lend a hand or get out!”

What do you do? Object to Veronica’s harsh methods? Turn to page 511.
Offer to help by ‘encouraging’ the slaves? Turn to page 515.
Offer to help by joining the workforce? Turn to page 516.
Leave Veronica to her business? Turn to page 507.

Page 510

It’s time to pay a visit to your old friend Veronica! You make your way to the kitchens, the kitchen slaves gasping to see a mistress enter their domain. They quickly form a line and bow towards you, as Mrs. Kent shuffles out of her office to greet you.

“Greetings mistress!” she says warmly. “Such an honour to have one of your lofty rank come to see us! How may we serve you?”

“Bring Veronica to me,” you command loftily, not bothering to meet the chef’s eager gaze.

Soon Veronica is pushed in front of you. Such a change! Had you not known it was her, you would never have recognised her. Her face is filthy, her clothes covered in grease and dirt, her hair lanky and unkempt. More than that, she has lost her cruel arrogance, and now stands before you a diminished and silent figure, afraid to meet your gaze.

“It does my heart good to see you like this, Veronica,” you jeer. “It seems life in the kitchens suits you well – you’ve become the cringing slut I always suspected you were. The kitchens have not been producing food quickly enough … I’ve decided this is your fault. You shall be caned two dozen strokes before your peers, so as to serve as an example to the other girls.”

Veronica seems to wilt further under this command, but meekly obeys, all fire and resistance having long since been beaten out of her by Mrs. Kent. Feeling in a nostalgic mood, you command Veronica to bend over the very same stool you were punished on during your first night at the manor, positioning the stool close to the fireplace so Veronica can feel the full effects of the roaring heat. Soon, the entire kitchen staff silently observing, Veronica is bend right over, her bum, naturally reddened from her long service to Mrs. Kent, blossoming into full view as her kitchen rags slide uselessly down her back.

“The cane, please, Mrs. Kent,” you bark sharply, sending your former superior scurrying to the implement cupboard. Soon, the familiar strip of yellow wood has been placed reverently into your hands, Mrs. Kent curtsying deeply as she provides you with the weapon of your vengeance.

You tap the cane firmly against Veronica’s buttocks, sending a visible shiver down her spine. “Two dozen, kitchen slut,” you bark. “You’ll take them still – or the number will be increased.” You raise the cane high above your shoulder, Veronica’s buttocks clenching and unclenching in terrible anticipation.

Vip!

A firm, opening cut across her central buttocks causes a great gasp to emit from Veronica’s mouth. You smile in pleasure as you see a vibrant red line spring up across her cheeks, almost perfectly horizontal. A good first stroke.

Vip!

The second stroke, though not as fierce, cuts across the first, Veronica shuddering in her stiff pose. She does not cry out, but she must surely have felt it.

Vip! Vip! Vip!

You rain strokes down upon Veronica’s naked, proffered bottom, like a vengeful goddess, relishing your cruel revenge like a fine wine. However, you have to admit that Veronica is taking her blows with some fortitude. This upsets you – if Veronica cannot be properly humbled before her fellows your reputation might suffer.

Will you: Leave Veronica’s punishment at a puny dozen strokes, which is a reasonable number for a made-up crime – and avoids any embarrassment should Veronica prove too enduring? Turn to page 512.
Or is it time to teach Veronica who is the true mistress of punishment? Turn to page 513.

Page 511

You are appalled by the brutal working conditions Veronica makes her workforce slave under. Clearly, these poor, abused creatures have not seen the light of day for many weeks, and not one of them does not bare whip marks across their shoulders, breasts and backs.

“This operation is a disgrace!” you cry. “The conditions here are inhuman. You can’t treat your slaves like this!”

Veronica looks surprised at being criticised, as do her slaves, who shuffle uncomfortably as they witness two mistresses arguing.

“I never realised you were so wet,” sneers Veronica. “They are slaves – they deserve to be punished, they crave it. Get out of here – it is unseemly for mistresses to disagree in front of slaves!”

She is right. Although mistresses in the house may profoundly disagree with one another, they will never do so in public. Mistresses must present an uncompromising unity before slaves, lest they get ideas above their station and contemplate rebellion. Your public disrespect of another mistress loses you some of your own respect. Lose 2 Fame points.

Realising your error you flush with embarrassment and withdraw. Turn to page 507.

Page 512

Vip! You crack the last stroke of your dozen across Veronica’s cringing backside, to a grunt of pain from your victim.

“That will do – a dozen for the first offence,” you declare, to some slight disappointment from the crowd of kitchen slaves. “But I shall be keeping my eye on you, Veronica. Fail again, and your next punishment will be more acute. What do you say?”

Veronica swallows her pride. “Thank you, mistress,” she moans, still bent over the stool, her bum pleasantly striped by your cane.

Gain 1 Cruelty point.

Nodding to yourself, you pass the cane back into Mrs. Kent’s hands, before smartly marching out, not bothering to command Veronica to rise.

If you have the trait ‘Sadistic’ you may add one to any attribute.

Turn to page 507.

Page 513

You steel yourself for a battle of wills. Naturally, the odds are greatly in your favour – you have the cane, and Veronica must endure. Even so, it is still possible for Veronica to make a fool out of you if you appear to give her too many strokes for what is, after all, no purpose but revenge.

Vip! Hard and clean, you slice the cane into the fullness of Veronica’s buttocks, eliciting a groan from the defenceless girl. Not bad – but you’ll need a bigger reaction than that to impress these hardened kitchen slaves.

If your Ambition is 6 or more, Turn to page 514.
If not, read on:

Vip! Vip! Vip!

You alternate between hard and soft strokes to disorientate your victim, bright red stripes criss-crossing her bum. Veronica is moaning and grunting, but not crying out.

Vip! Vip! Vip!

Sweat begins to drip from your forehead – she’s not breaking. And her bottom is beginning to look a state, cruelly blistered and welted from your strokes … an inner part of you, a mercy you had long hoped to crush, begins to overwhelm you – you can’t just keep beating the girl, can you?

It’s no good – her bum looks much to red to continue. What if Mrs. Kent objects, and you are asked directly by the Master or Mistress Jessica what crime Veronica did to merit such cruelty? It’s not worth the risk.

Trembling, you lower the cane halfway through the third dozen, to muted shock from the gathered kitchen girls.

“That will do, I think,” you murmur, hurriedly passing the cane back to Mrs. Kent, who eyes you warily.

You march out of the kitchen, feeling deflated and defeated. Somehow Veronica has bested you, and you feel sick to your stomach. Lose 2 points of Willpower.

Now turn to 507.

Page 514

Revenge is sweet, and you delight in each cruel stroke you lay on Veronica’s twitching behind. Vip! Vip! Beautiful red track lines decorate her bum as you lash her globes with fearless gusto. You know full well that had events turned out differently, it would be your own bottom now being thrashed by this merciless tormentor. As it is, present events suit you perfectly, and you relish each juicy impact into her crimson buttocks.

Veronica squeals and begs as you unleash your pent up fury upon her. Your confident strokes, measured and precise, whittle away her willpower until she is mewling at each stroke, desperately clutching the stool as her bottom is pitilessly lashed. Her fellow kitchen slaves recoil and tremble as they watch Veronica humbled, glad to their soul that it is not they who are your enemy – seeing the malicious joy you take in her suffering.

Gain 2 Cruelty points.

At three dozen strokes you call a halt – the weeping Veronica can be reduced no lower than this snivelling wreck, and further strokes are unnecessary. Mrs. Kent swallows as you return the cane to her, a look of fear and respect as she considers the implement which has so competently lashed her servant.

“I trust you have learned your lesson, Veronica?” you tease, stroking her welted bum almost in affection.

“Yes, miss!” she squeaks, without a hint of sarcasm.

You have crushed your former enemy. Add 1 Willpower point, and gain 1 Fame point – juicy tales of revenge are meat and drink in the Master’s manor!

If you have the trait ‘Sadistic’ raise one of your attributes by 1 point.

Greatly satisfied with your efforts, you depart the kitchens. Turn to page 507.

Page 515

Veronica looks doubtful for a moment – she obviously doesn’t want you sharing any of her glory! But looking at her exhausted slaves, she realises she needs all the help she can get.

“Fine,” she says shrugging. “Grab a whip and get motivating!”

You lick your lips in anticipation. It’s days like this that make you glad you’re a mistress!

For the next two hours the hall is filled with the sound of duel cracks of the whip, as you and Veronica enforce order in the hall. The slaves, flinching at strokes that whip their backs, bums and tits, quickly begin to work harder and faster, Veronica and you fast to spot any potential slacking at the coal pit and furnace. The slaves shudder as you pass, and it is rare for even a minute to pass without your whip kissing the flesh of idle workers. The furnace never dulls, and the power provided is adequate for the Master’s needs.

Gain 2 Cruelty points.

At the conclusion of the job, you whip the laziest slave two dozen lashes across her bare bum to encourage her efforts in the future. Thankful that her ordeal is over, the slave falls at your feet and thanks you earnestly for her beating.

“A team of idle, cringing sluts,” you declare loudly to Veronica. “I see you have your work cut out for you. Good luck with them – and don’t spare the whip!”

“Thank you, fellow mistress,” grins Veronica, a new found respect for you in her eyes. “Do not worry, I shall follow your advice.”

Gain 1 Ambition point for your useful labours, and 1 Fame point.

If you have the trait ‘Sadistic’, add 1 to any attribute.

Now Turn to page 507.

Page 516

“You want to … join the workforce?” says Veronica slowly, as if she couldn’t quite hear you.

“Yes,” you concur. “These slaves are far too tired – they need real help, not another mistress yelling at them!”

Veronica looks astonished for a moment, before a wicked smile crosses her face. “Fine,” she smiles. “But if you’re joining the work gang, you’ll need to be dressed appropriately. Get your clothes off – all of them. My whip will need total access to your body if I’m to motivate you properly.”

If you have the weakness ‘Schoolgirl Rivalry’, Turn to page 517.

You gasp … Veronica intends to treat you like a common slave! You are insulted … and yet that old longing to serve and grovel before a stern mistress calls in the back of your mind – perhaps the life of a mistress has made you soft?

Will you: Hotly refuse and storm out of the generator room? Turn to page 507.
Agree to Veronica’s demands? Turn to page 517.

Page 517

“V … very well,” you murmur to your own amazement. “If it will help the Master…”

Slowly you begin to undress, unbuttoning your leather basque with trembling fingers, the mutterings of amazed slaves in the background. Veronica cracks her whip with impatience. “Faster, you pointless whore! Do you think I have all day?”

“Sorry, Veronica,” you cry, quickly pulling away your basque, allowing your generous breasts to spring free to the gathering amazement of the slaves. Soon your trousers and knickers have been removed too, leaving only your high healed boots to differentiate you from the common slaves around you.

Eager to enforce control, Veronica hobbles you with ankle chains, which force you to shuffle across the grimy floor. At this, and with great relish, she cracks the whip across your back. “Get moving, slut!” she roars. “Until the Master’s presentation is done you’re just another one of my slaves. Get shovelling, or I promise your backside will pay the penalty!”

Grabbing a shovel, before the whip strikes you again, you quickly set to work with the other slaves. Your co-workers are still bewildered that a mistress has stripped naked to join their ranks, but rapidly accept you as Veronica plies her whip upon their hesitating bodies.

If your Submission is 6 or more, Turn to page 518.
If not, Turn to page 519.

Page 518

Vap! Veronica’s scorching whip again caresses your backside sharply, as you struggle with another shovel full of coal. Yet, despite the sting, a tremendous feeling of contentment washes over you. Since you became a mistress, lounging off the labour of others, you have missed serving the Master as a menial servant. The beautiful simplicity of a slave’s life was much to your liking: the mistress or guest makes a demand, you scurry to obey, then you are punished for failure. Veronica’s cruelty reminds you fondly of the old days…

Vap! Vap!

Which is not to say your suffering is not acute … the wicked Veronica, quick to berate and lash you for any sloth, gets the very best out of you. But no matter how tired your limbs become, no matter how sharply the whip stings your flesh, you doggedly perform your service with all the correct submission and duty any loyal slave girl would. The furnace remains bright and fully fuelled – the presentation for the Master completed without power cuts or brown outs.

After two hours, Veronica finally calls a halt to your efforts, and you collapse to your knees, exhausted. Your back, bum and breast are criss-crossed with whip welts. Raise your Bum Status by 3 levels. None the less, Veronica is pleased with your efforts.

“This is how it should have always been between us,” muses Veronica, releasing you reluctantly from your ankle hobbles. “You were born to serve – you should never have become a mistress.”

“I was born to serve the Master,” you remind Veronica sternly. “A mistress should be willing to do anything to serve him – no matter how degrading.”

It is a novel premise. Many mistresses think you have demeaned the role of mistress with your antics, but others are intrigued and inspired by your new thinking. Gain 1 Fame point and 1 point of Willpower.

Turn to page 507.

Page 519

What have you let yourself in for? Just as you have reached a position of power, you have surrendered it to your worst enemy! Veronica is quick to take advantage, lashing your body at the smallest provocation.

Vap! Vap!

You groan and grunt as you haul coal into the ever hungry furnace, the other slaves as exhausted as you. Veronica is infuriated with your progress, whipping you freely, screaming at you to increase your efforts. But your resentment towards her, and the long weeks it has been since you had to perform labour of any kind, weakens you. About an hour into your work, the lights begin to dim, the furnace unable to be fed quickly enough by your uninspired efforts.

Veronica seethes with rage, whipping every slave, yourself included, in a frenzy. Raise your Bum Status by 4 levels and lose 1 point of Willpower.

“You were as useless a slave as you are a mistress!” berates Veronica unkindly. “I shall make sure the Master knows the blackout was all your fault!”

In fact, most of the blame is directed towards Veronica (who later has to pay the Master a personal visit in his study to explain her failure). But your reputation is hardly undamaged. Your perverse decision to become a slave for a day baffles and amuses your fellow mistresses. Lose 2 Fame points and 1 point of Dignity and Ambition.

Turn to page 507.

Page 520

You are allowed into Veronica’s quarters by Alicia, Veronica’s slave in training, who immediately makes you as comfortable as possible in her mistresses’ plush and crimson quarters. You cannot help but tremble slightly as you accept the glass of whiskey Alicia presents to you, your eyes passing over the fireplace where the dreaded cane which has welted your buttocks for many weeks hangs proudly.

You are not kept waiting long, Veronica strides into her chambers with a growl at Alicia to prepare her a drink. She looks somewhat surprised to see you, but grins smugly to see you recoiled in her armchair, sipping her whisky.

“Bit early, aren’t you?” she laughs. “I told you – your punishments are always at ten thirty. Unless, of course, you are here for extras? I suppose I could grant that, if you beg shamelessly enough for them…”

If you have the trait ‘Lust for the Cane’ or the weakness ‘Schoolgirl Rivalry’, Turn to page 521.
If not, read on.

What do you do? Drop to your knees and beg Veronica to beat you? Turn to page 521.
Ask if there is any way to buy off your debt? Turn to page 522.
Demand that Veronica returns the book to you? Turn to page 523.

Page 521

You were unable to contain yourself until ten thirty! The thought of the wicked Veronica lashing your buttocks has haunted you all day.

“Oh please, Veronica!” you beg upon your knees. “Please cane me some extras! No one beats me as cruelly as you! I need to feel the kiss of your cane upon my unworthy bottom!”

Alicia, who has silently witnessed your beatings dozens of times over the last few months, quietly removes the glass of whiskey from your hand, and collects the cane from the fireplace to present to her mistress.

“Very well, slut,” spits Veronica, swiping the cane menacingly through the air. “I’m sure you know the position well enough by now. Three dozen, over the top of your other cane welts, should have you hopping. And don’t think you can wriggle out of the dozen I’m giving you tonight!”

“Of course not, miss!” you exclaim, hardly able to contain your joy. How you despise yourself for your odious grovelling before Veronica … but how badly you need it! Lose 2 Willpower points, but gain 2 Submission points.

Soon, naked before Veronica and her cold faced slave, you are bent tightly in position, your buttocks thrust up eagerly for your due. Veronica makes you wait several agonising minutes, until you are practically shaking with desire, your shameful lusts made plain to the observing Alicia. Lose 1 Dignity point for your loss of composure before an insignificant slave.

Vip!

The first blow cuts through the air and into your buttocks like a razor, emitting a wailing cry from your lungs. Your scorching backside quivers under the bright red slice imprinted into it, your buttocks twitching in sharp agony.

“One! Thank you, miss!” you hiss through clenched teeth, your wealed bottom sizzling above you.

“Oh, you’re very welcome,” laughs Veronica. “Don’t worry – plenty more to come…”

Vip! Vip! Vip!

You shudder and jerk under Veronica’s meticulous bombardment of your bottom, her whistling cane extracting squawks and squeals from you as your arse is welted red. “A pathetic display,” observes Veronica airily, as she sinks the cane into your hot bum skin again. Vip! “Who would imagine it – a mistress subjecting herself to such demeaning punishment? But then you’ve always been a worm, haven’t you my old schoolchum? So there’s probably very little I can do to grind you down further, eh?”

Vip! Vip!

Though your punishment takes only minutes to complete, your suffering feels as if it has lasted hours. You weep pathetically as Veronica, well practiced now at crushing your will, lashes you into sweet oblivion. You orgasm violently as you near your end total, your whole body feeling awash with helpless ecstasy. Raise one attribute by 1 point and raise your Bum Status by 4 levels.

“There,” smiles Veronica with deep satisfaction. “You deserved every stroke, wench.”

“Thank you, miss,” you choke through your tears.

“See you again tonight for more of the same,” Veronica says brightly, handing the cane back to her stone faced slave girl.

You gather up your clothes and slink out of the chamber.

Turn to page 507.

Page 522

“Buy off your debt?” laughs Veronica. “But I have everything I ever wanted! I have you humiliated every night, cringing and squirming before me as I lash your shameful buttocks. This is the reason I became a mistress! No … you shall be my whipping girl for all time – and never know the feel of an unblemished bottom!”

You plead with Veronica for a time, but she is resolute. Dejected, and with no hope in your heart you depart her chambers miserably, knowing you will back again tonight for your due. Lose 1 Willpower point.

Turn to page 507.

Page 523

You’ve had enough – you won’t be blackmailed forever by this spiteful bitch. “Give me that book, Veronica,” you snarl darkly.

Veronica laughs derisively at you. “You can’t threaten me, wimp – I’m a fellow mistress. You can’t touch me!”

“Just watch me!” you cry, launching yourself at her in a frenzy. The two of you crash to the floor, wrestling desperately, each eager to pin the other to the ground. Alicia watches in shock as two of you scratch and shriek at each other, not daring to intervene in this bitter duel.

If you have the trait ‘Strong’ Turn to page 524.
If not, read on.

Veronica, taller and stronger than you by a good margin, manages to overpower you, crushing you flat and pinning your arms. “Submit!” she cries. “Submit you cow!”

Victory is impossible … you flop helplessly down. Veronica has beaten you … again.

“You’ll regret this, bitch,” hisses Veronica. “From now on it’s two dozen strokes every night. You’ll take them, or next time I go straight to the Master with the book.”

You slump in defeat. You know Veronica well enough that she will be true to her word when it comes to inflicting pain.

From now on, every time you return to the Mistress Hub, you must set your Bum Status to ‘Fiery’, rather than ‘Throbbing’. Truly, your life as a mistress is now more miserable than ever!

Turn to page 507.

Page 524

You have always been stronger and more athletic than Veronica – a fact which she has always been rather bitter about. Soon she is crushed to the floor, her leg twisted round painfully in your grasp.

“Give me the book, Veronica!” you demand, giving her leg a good twist.

“Never!” she screams, thumping her fists impotently on the floor.

“I’ll twist it right off! I mean it!” you snarl, twisting her leg as sharply as you dare.

Veronica cries out and submits. “All right! Damn you! All right!” she weeps. “Alicia – fetch the book from the hiding place!”

Alicia curtseys and swiftly departs into the bedroom, returning with the ancient punishment book moments later. You snatch the book from her grasp, clutching it tightly to your chest. “You’re a miserable little cow, Veronica!” you cry triumphantly. “And now you no longer have any hold over me.”

“It’s not fair!” weeps Veronica. “You can’t just beat me up! That’s not how we do things around here.”

“Rules are made to be broken,” you sneer, marching from her room, leaving Veronica to sob helplessly on the floor behind you.

Gain 2 Ambition points. Also, whenever you return to the Mistress Hub you can lower your Bum Status to ‘Unblemished’. Your nightly suffering is over.

Turn to page 507.

Page 525

If you have the Codeword DARKSOUL Turn to page 526.
If not, read on.

After a few days of waiting for an appointment you attend Mistress Jessica in her chambers. The supreme mistress possesses an entire suite of rooms at the far end of the manor – her own private empire, complete with freshly beaten slave girls seemingly loyal only to her.

She greets you warmly upon arrival, and invites you to take a glass of Merlot from her ‘wine stand’ (a naked slave girl with her hands lied to her ankles, gripping a long stemmed wine glass between her glowing red bum cheeks). You accept, and soon the two of you are chatting pleasantly.

“I don’t think I had time to personally congratulate you on your appointment,” says Mistress Jessica. “It was hard earned – indeed, swiftly earned…”

There is a slight trace of jealousy in her voice, but not a hint of it from her face, which is as cool and dispassionate as ever.

“What did you wish to see me about?” she asks lightly.

Will you? Ask her to advise you on caning techniques? Turn to page 527.
Ingratiate yourself towards her, flattering her, and promising her aid should she ever need it? Turn to page 528.

Page 526

You have overheard Mistress Jessica’s treachery – but you need proof! The Fallen Master spoke of a contract, signed in her blood, that she was obliged to keep handy. You can only guess that the contract will be somewhere in her quarters. But how to get it?

Will you: Attempt to break in to her quarters in the middle of the night and steal the contract? Turn to page 559.
Try to get Mistress Jessica to invite you to stay for the night, and search her quarters whilst she sleeps? Turn to page 562.
Abandon any attempt to get the contract – it’s too risky! Turn to page 507.

Page 527

Mistress Jessica seems flattered by your request, and her cautious demeanour relaxes. “Of course, my dear,” she says with enthusiasm. “I’ve often thought about setting up some sort of training programme for new mistresses – but the Master wouldn’t hear of it. He insists that all mistresses must possess unique attributes, and not be moulded into a single image.”

You can’t escape noticing a slight ring of bitterness in Mistress Jessica’s voice – have the Master and her had a falling out?

“But I would be delighted to instruct you,” she smiles, snapping her fingers. Immediately a pretty slave girl scampers over to Jessica and curtseys, head bowed.

“You called, miss?” she says huskily.

“Tabitha, we’re using you for target practice,” announces Mistress Jessica sharply. “Remove your clothes, turn around and touch your toes. There will be no maximum number of strokes.”

Tabitha trembles at this announcement. Only the supreme mistress has the authority to lash a slave girl completely without limit. Clearly ruing her miserable fate, Tabitha disrobes in an instant, her flimsy garb fluttering down her voluptuous frame. Moments later she twists round, and with weary practice bends over to touch her toes, her buttocks blossoming into view – an entrancing target!

Between you, politely taking turns, you lash into Tabitha’s buttocks, skilfully raising brilliant red track lines. Tabitha squawks, tenses and cries out – but she knows better than to break position before the Supreme Mistress.

“A good opening stroke,” opinions Mistress Jessica, as she cuts into Tabitha’s trembling bottom, “is dead centre, not too high, nor too low. Firm, but not your strongest. You must build your caning to a crescendo of agony, exciting squeals and pleas for mercy – all the time demanding stoicism and grace. Do not forget to criticize – stay still, Tabitha, you weak willed worm! – for any psychological advantage should be sought. Most of the girls you’ll beat are hardened and experienced submissives – but you must always ensure you leave them fearful of you, and obedient. Alas, a slaves’ loyalty soon slips as her bottom heals. Do the girls a favour and stripe them often. An obedient slave avoids trouble. It’s really for their own good.”

You nod firmly, taking all this in. Raise your Ambition by 1 point.

“Now – let’s see what you’ve learned,” smiles Mistress Jessica, indicating Tabitha’s welted bottom. “Tabitha here is at breaking point, having taken more than three dozen strokes between us. But there’s still some unseemly defiance in her. You have twelve strokes to make her break position. Fail to do so and you will disappoint me, and allow Tabitha the rest of the day off. Succeed, and she will receive another dozen, from me, after you leave.”

A challenge! This is what being a mistress is all about! You survey Tabitha’s cane stroked cheeks – there is a definite tremble in her legs, equating to a slight wobble upon her fiery buttocks. She’s near her limit all right – but how to tip her over the edge?

Will you: Cruelly whip a dozen strokes into a single line on her lower buttocks, betting that the rising sting will have her breaking position? Turn to page 533.
Cane her forcefully, loudly berating her as you do so, quick to reward any extras from jolts, clenching or unseemly whimpers? Turn to page 535.
Cheat – awarding extras at will, striking her thighs, whipping into her tender crevices – anything to make her break? Turn to page 537.

Page 528

You sidle up to Mistress Jessica, exchanging gossip, lending your support to her opinions, and otherwise ingratiating yourself towards her. Mistress Jessica remains somewhat haughty and superior – you are, after all, not the first mistress to attempt to brown nose her – but nonetheless she seems satisfied with your expressions of loyalty.

“Always remember,” she says to you, “that as mistresses, our duty is to maintain order. The Master is just another component in that mission.”

“Surely the most important part!” you gasp, taken by surprise at what almost sounds like heresy.

“Naturally!” assures Mistress Jessica. “The Master is always the most important – whoever that turns out to be. We cannot be biased, but support the position of the Master. Whichever man fills that role is not for a mistress to judge.”

You nod eagerly, but within you are filled with dread. You feel as if you are a traitor just discussing the matter.

“Of course – this is all philosophical!” laughs Mistress Jessica lightly. “I just want you to be clear about your priorities in case … anything should happen.”

You assure Mistress Jessica that you will always have the house’s best intentions at heart – but this strange conversation haunts your soul. Is Mistress Jessica planning on revolution?

Lose 1 Willpower point and

Turn to page 507.

Page 529

Mr. Sullivan looks delighted to see you as you pop into his chambers one bright morning. A sore bottomed cleaning girl sulkily scrubs in one corner, the latest victim of Mr. Sullivan’s hypocritical demands for perfection.

“My dear!” he cries warmly. “Welcome, welcome. I’d hoped you’d not forget me now that you are almighty! Good friends should never become strangers…”

After all the abuse you have suffered at Mr. Sullivan’s hands you find it hard to stifle a rebuke, but you must be careful. Mr. Sullivan is a guest, and therefore still superior even to you. After the Master he is probably the most powerful man in the house.

If you have the Codeword DARKSOUL, Turn to page 530.
If not, read on:

Mr. Sullivan invites you to sit in one of his plush armchairs, which you do, summoning the cleaning slave to crouch at your feet so you might have somewhere comfortable to rest your legs.

“Now, my dear,” he purrs. “What may I do for you?”

What do you do? Ask him to arrange you a steed for the forthcoming Ponygirl race? Turn to page 538.
Talk politely for a few minutes, but leave the presence of this odious little man as soon as you can? Turn to page 507.

Page 530

Ever since you overheard Mistress Jessica’s treachery your mind has been a whirl with ideas. Perhaps … just perhaps she is on to a good idea? If she is responsible for installing a new Master upon the throne she would gain great power and gratitude from that Master.

You look upon Mr. Sullivan – and suddenly realise that you might have the opportunity for that kind of power as well. He is, bizarrely, very popular with the other guests, who approve of his filthy sense of humour, his bawdy ponygirl races, and his swaggering confidence. The fact that he is not as commanding as the current Master is actually to your advantage – he would, no doubt, rely on you to run the house whilst he busied himself with his ponies. You could have more power than any supreme mistress since the foundation of the manor!

But the risks – oh! The terrible risks! This is monstrous treason, and Mr. Sullivan would have to agree to it.

Will you share your plan with Mr. Sullivan? If so, Turn to page 531.

If not, turn back to page 529 and ignore the instruction to turn to this page.

Page 531

Dismissing the cleaning girl, you confide in Mr. Sullivan what you overheard in the Underworld – the treason of Mistress Jessica, and the future betrayal of the Master. Mr. Sullivan nods.

“I suspected as much,” he says, resting his hands upon his pot belly. “The Master has displayed an almost sentimental attachment to his slave girl flock. Ridiculous rules such as limiting types of punishment, outlawing buggery and making pony girl races voluntary have begun to alienate him from his guests and mistresses. The guests are here to indulge in their darkest fantasies, not mind their manners! The Master is immovable on the issue of basic slave rights. He even insists on providing slaves with promotion prospects! Ridiculous! The feeling amongst the guests is that a harder line must be taken on the slaves – that they must be ground down until they are thoughtlessly obedient.”

You nod enthusiastically. “It seems as though you are in touch with the guest’s wishes. They need someone like you – someone who’ll put things right in the manor. As an ex-slave myself I assure you that the slaves need someone they can really fear – the current Master just doesn’t cut it…”

You feel mortified just saying these words … but as a traitor, you’ll just have to get used to it. Lose 2 Dignity points for your ungrateful slur against your beloved Master.

“You mean … become the Master myself?” mutters Mr. Sullivan darkly. He lights his pipe and is quiet for a few minutes, considering the idea. After this tense pause he leans towards you.

If you have the Codeword VICTORY, Turn to page 532.
If not, read on.

“My dear, you are a pretty creature indeed,” he smiles. “Far too pretty to worry about politics. I can’t trust a filly who never won a race – therefore I suggest you go back to your Master and serve him loyally … whoever it turns out to be.”

You tremble with suppressed rage at Mr. Sullivan’s patronising tone, but remain silent. You don’t want your treacherous thoughts becoming common knowledge!

Turn to page 507.

Page 532

“I will do it,” he whispers urgently. “You have the passion and desire to win at any cost. I saw those qualities in you when you overcame all obstacles to help me to victory on the track! However it must be perfectly timed. The Master is still strong and popular in some quarters. He must be betrayed at the moment when he is at his weakest. Defeat Mistress Jessica’s scheme first, before advocating me as a replacement. Win over the guests – play to their darkest desires, and you shall sit at my right hand when I come to power.”

Gain 1 Ambition point, lose 4 Submission points, and

Turn to page 507.

Page 533

With careful and practiced aim, you swish the cane into single spot on her lower buttocks, just above the line of her thighs. She jolts somewhat, but remains stoically quiet – eager to gain her reward after such a difficult whipping.

You snap into it again, across the same spot – not with any great strength, but with a fluid accuracy that raised a cry from the poor slave girl.

If your Dignity is 7 or more, Turn to page 534.
If not, read on:

Alas, come the next stroke your aim is off, slicing just above the raised welt of the first two strokes. You curse inwardly, striking again, this time too low.

In all, only half your strokes manage to hit the right target before her dozen is up. You have to admire, although rue, the girl’s tremendous fortitude.

“Rise, Tabitha,” commands Mistress Jessica, a slight tone of exasperation entering her voice. “It appears your doom has been averted. You may leave my presence and return to me tomorrow. I expect my breakfast at eight.”

“Thank you miss!” cries Tabitha, relived that the Supreme Mistress is to keep her word. She quickly rises, grabs her slave garb, and flies from your sight.

“Rather unimpressive – more practice clearly needed,” says Mistress Jessica snootily. “I cannot, however, train you all day – perhaps you should train on a pillow or something…”

A pillow! Such a barbed insult! You can do nothing but gently murmur your agreement, shame burning inside you. Lose 2 Ambition points.

Turn to 507.

Page 534

Again and again you strike – vip! vip! – into that same spot, displaying no mercy but a cold professionalism. Even a hardened slave like Tabitha cannot endure it. With a high pitched shriek she leaps to her feet, grasping her poor, flaming bottom – sizzling from eight continuous strokes to the same place.

“Victory!” crows Mistress Jessica. “And well earned! Tabitha – you are a useless slut. Await your further punishment in my bedroom.”

“Yes, miss!” snivels Tabitha, her eyes watery, her head downcast – shuffling off, grasping her burning buttocks.

Gain 1 Cruelty point.

If you have the trait ‘Sadistic’ you can add one to any attribute.

Mistress Jessica looks upon you with a new found respect. “A skilled performance indeed,” she smiles. “I can see the Master was right to promote you.”

Such respect counts for much in the manor. You may gain 2 Fame Points for your impressive display.

Gain the codeword TABITHA.

Turn to page 507.

Page 535

Vip! You slash the cane into Tabitha’s proffered arse, the cane nestling deep into her buttocks, eliciting a shriek from the poor girl.

“Did that hurt you, you worm?” you snarl at her.

“Yes, miss,” she ruefully snuffles.

“Not as much as this will…” you growl.

Vip! Vip! You unleash two vicious cuts to her already well whipped lower buttocks, causing Tabitha to howl mournfully.

If your Ambition is 8 or more, Turn to page 536.
If not, read on.

Alas, Tabitha’s cry shakes you … you picture yourself in a similar position, bum beaten red, two superior mistresses crowing their might over you, enjoying your suffering. A terrible twinge of pity courses through you, weakening your strokes.

“For heaven’s sake, stop whinging, girl,” is the best you can manage, as you now half-heartedly whip Tabitha her final strokes, unable to really torment the poor creature any further.

“Thank you miss!” cries Tabitha, relived that the Supreme Mistress is to keep her word. She quickly rises, grabs her slave garb, and flies from your sight.

“Rather unimpressive – more practice clearly needed,” says Mistress Jessica snootily. “I cannot, however, train you all day – perhaps you should train on a pillow or something…”

A pillow! Such a barbed insult! You can do nothing but gently murmur your agreement, shame burning inside you. Lose 2 Ambition points.

Turn to 507.

Page 536

“Useless slut, stay still!” you thunder, as you crack the sixth stroke across the top of Tabitha’s crimson cheeks, her bottom swaying, her knees buckling.

“That’s a repeat, whore,” you snarl, “and an extra stroke for being so feeble!”

Vip! Vip!

At two more strokes, still technically only the fifth and sixth, Tabitha breaks, her hands flying to her scalding bum cheeks. “Oh, please miss! No more!” she wails.

“Victory!” crows Mistress Jessica. “And well earned! Tabitha – you are a useless slut. Await your further punishment in my bedroom.”

“Yes, miss!” snivels Tabitha, her eyes watery, her head downcast – shuffling off, grasping her burning buttocks.

Gain 1 Cruelty point.

If you have the trait ‘Sadistic’ you can add one to any attribute.

Mistress Jessica looks upon you with a new found respect. “A skilled performance indeed,” she smiles. “I can see the Master was right to promote you.”

Such respect counts for much in the manor. You may gain 2 Fame Points for your impressive display.

Gain the codeword TABITHA.

Turn to page 507.

Page 537

The challenge has been set – and there’s no way you’re going to fail. Vip! An opening stroke to Tabitha’s thighs elicits a confused shriek, buckling her knees in panic. Vip! A diagonal strokes across her previous cane welts. Vip! A stroke to the whirl of her exposed anus, has the girl sobbing.

“Oh mistress! Please! Stop!” wails Tabitha, leaping to her feet and turning around.

The Supreme Mistress, concerned, but always quick to enforce order commands Tabitha to retreat to her bedroom to await further correction. It is only when Tabitha is gone, and the door closed, that the Supreme Mistress rounds on you.

“You honourless cur!” she snaps. “There are rules and guidelines, as old as time, that restrict our hands when punishing slaves. They are the Master’s willing chattel and not to be damaged.”

“They are slave scum, and have no rights,” you retort hotly.

“You go to far, new girl,” warns Mistress Jessica darkly. “They serve of their own volition – they accept domination, but excessive cruelty can push them over the edge into rebellion. Too may manors have disintegrated into the ether because control over the slaves was lost.”

You startle at this information. “There are … other manors? Like this one?”

“Fewer now than there were,” concedes Mistress Jessica. “For if the slaves revolt, or the guests become dissatisfied, they vanish … never to return. That will not happen here – you will restrict your punishments to traditional levels of severity!”

You promise to do this, humbled and disturbed by what Mistress Jessica has told you.

Lose 1 Ambition point and gain 2 Cruelty points.

Turn to page 507.

Page 538

“But of course!” laughs Mr. Sullivan. “I would be delighted! It is the finest sport in all creation. Teams of struggling, naked, whipped slave ponies heaving their master’s towards the finishing line – there is no greater art. Come with me – I have a new pony who I know is just right for you!”

With perverse excitement you follow Mr Sullivan outside the manor and into the stables. Line upon line of chained up ponies in their stalls stand to attention as Mr. Sullivan passes, a shiver running down them at the thought that they might be hitched up to a cart to haul the fat Victorian across the race track.

Mr Sullivan stops outside a stall and proudly presents your pony. You recognise her at once. It is Candy, your fellow kitchen slave – your first companion in the manor.

“I’ll leave you to get acquainted,” smiles Mr Sullivan. “Train her hard – the race is next week. The master will not be competing – but I certainly will!”

You are left alone with the petite Candy, naked but for her slave harness, that does nothing to hide her petite charms.

If you have the codeword BONDED, Turn to page 539.
If you have the codeword CANDY, Turn to page 540.

If you have neither of these codewords, Turn to page 549.

Page 539

“Candy!” you cry, giving your friend a tight hug. “What on earth are you doing here?”

“Oh, I just had to get out of the kitchens – even if it’s just for a bit!” cries Candy. “Mrs. Kent had been whopping my bum non-stop. Besides – there’s a chance I could be promoted out if I do well!”

You look Candy up and down critically … she doesn’t really have the build of a top pony cart racer.

“I suppose I could train you,” you say cautiously, “but it would be tough work … are you sure you’re up for it?”

“Definitely!” enthuses Candy. “I want to serve the Master, not fat old Mrs. Kent. I need him to notice me.”

You can understand the sentiment … but this isn’t going to be easy.

What do you wish to do? Train her properly and strictly, as you were trained, building up her strength and endurance to turn her into a proper contender? Turn to page 542.
Attempt a different tactic – turn Candy into a dressage pony, so that, come the race, she looks spectacular and graceful, even if she’s unlikely to win it? Turn to page 548.
Realise winning is a hopeless case, lark about and have fun with Candy for the whole week, and just see what happens come racing day? Turn to page 550.

Page 540

Upon seeing you, Candy drops to her knees and lowers her head. Time has not dulled her submissive attitude, and she remembers well the delightfully cruel nights you spent together in the kitchens.

“I see you have not forgotten how to show respect – that’s good,” you say, pressing your hand upon the top of her head. “But it won’t be enough to get a useless slut like you across the finishing line. I assume you’re here because you’re fed up with the kitchens and want to get noticed by some swanky guest or mistress?”

“Yes, miss,” she admits quietly.

“Well – I’ve got my work cut out getting a milksop like you up to speed,” you muse. “But give me everything you have, and plenty more besides, and we’ll see if we can save you from total embarrassment.”

“Thank you, miss!” she brightens, risking a quick glance into your eyes.

Will you: Punish Candy for daring to raise her eyes? Turn to page 541.
Begin her training – since there is so little time? Turn to page 542.

Page 541

With a snarl you slap Candy roughly across the cheek, and she immediately lowers her eyes. Snatching a riding crop from the wall you command Candy to turn around and present her backside for punishment. She does not hesitate, years of constant kitchen discipline having killed any resistance in her long ago.

You crack the crop across her backside a dozen times, accompanied by the sound of whimpers and moans from the poor chastised girl. She takes her punishment well enough, and her total submission is much to your liking.

If you have the trait ‘Sadistic’ add one to any attribute.

“Now, you insolent little hussy!” you snap. “Time to begin your training…”

Gain 1 Cruelty point and

Turn to page 542.

Page 542

With a cold heart and a sharp lash you begin Candy’s training as a Pony girl. To begin with she is far too enamoured with the glamour of her position, cockily jaunting past guests with a wink as she bounces past them on the track. A good taste of the whip and half a dozen laps soon cures her of that, and soon she is panting, staggering, sweat dripping down her body to run down her supple legs and bouncing breasts. As you suspected she is not a natural racer, and you punish her poor performance with a sound strapping that very evening.

Gain 1 Cruelty point.

To your despair, the next day she seems just as jolly and happy-go-lucky as she was the day before, despite your best efforts with the whip. She continues to subconsciously slow down to show off her body to handsome guests and clearly is not digging into her reserves of strength. This training is harder than you thought!

If your Ambition is 8 or more, Turn to page 543.
If not, Turn to page 544.

Page 543

You refuse to let Candy’s chirpy attitude grind you down. You increase your lashings, force her to exercise day and night, and have her compete in mini-races with her fellow pony girls, explaining that she will have to submit herself as a personal pleasure slave to any girl who beats her on the track. Poor, distraught Candy, when she finally realises the quality of the other fillies, their long legs pumping furiously, their groaning limbs heaving with exertion, begins to up her game. Gain 2 Cruelty points.

The night after servicing her fellow sex-starved pony girls for her failures on the track, looking shaky and ashamed, she finally begins to take her training seriously. Her speed increases, she begins to push herself. After a few more days she even begins to stop wincing as you lash her, instead relying on your whip for clues for when she has to speed up, slow down, or overtake.

Candy is not stubborn, and you have little problem controlling her on the track. She’s even quite fast, but has a tendency to run out of steam quickly – you’ll have to carefully manage her energy reserves on the day.

Although you present Candy with few compliments, fearing it would lead to a resurgence of her inappropriate jolly attitude, none the less you feel that Candy understands you are pleased with her performance.

Gain the Codeword TRAINED.

The night before the race you visit her in her stables for one last talk.

What do you do? Tell her she is a good pony, and that, win or lose, you are proud of her progress? Turn to page 545.
Tell her she is a useless, cringing nag, and that she has no hope of winning the race tomorrow? Turn to page 546.
Tell her that if she fails to get to first place, the lashings she has received so far will be a pittance compared to what will await her at the end? Turn to page 547.

Page 544

Secretly you can’t help but admire Candy’s jolly attitude. You realise there is very little hope she can win the race, of course, so perhaps for her treating the pony girl race as a big day out makes some kind of sense.

Naturally, you won’t be humiliated by this little tyke, and deliver plenty of punishment and long training sessions, which she takes with unfailing good humour. Gain 1 Cruelty point.

It seems that luck, rather than anything else, will be required for victory at the racetrack tomorrow!

The night before the race you visit her in her stables for one last talk.

Page 545

Candy blushes with pleasure at your compliment. “Thank you, miss!” she says, almost teary eyed. “I promise I’ll not let you down!”

You give her a quick kiss and then depart, before Candy can see your own eyes moisten up in the emotional atmosphere.

Turn to page 551.

Page 546

Candy breaks down and weeps. “But, miss!” she sobs. “I’ve tried so hard!”

“And you are still an incompetent harlot!” you bark. “No wonder the Master’s kept you locked up in the kitchen all you life!”

Candy collapses into tears. Smiling smugly at her distress, you spin on your heel and exit, confident that Candy will be displaying no unseemly joviality tomorrow!

Gain 2 Cruelty points.

Turn to page 551.

Page 547

Candy’s eyes widen and she swallows. She nods carefully. “I understand, miss,” she says, shivering.

Nodding sharply, you exit the stables, satisfied that Candy has been properly motivated.

Turn to page 551.

Page 548

You concentrate on building up Candy’s grace and style, having her practice a formal trot that emphasises her gorgeous, bouncing breasts and her shapely legs. The two of you design the cart together, spending more time painting and decorating it that driving it. Candy herself looks a vision, with bright feathers waving aloft atop her head, her pony girl outfit decorated with silks and sequins.

Come the race, with two dozen snarling pony girls champing at the bit ready to lurch across the start line, Candy saunters gently towards the line accompanied by a rousing cheer. You see Mr. Sullivan, atop his efficient, no-nonsense racing cart, frown in disapproval at your gaudy display, but the crowd love it, cheering you and Candy loudly.

The race is a joke, you are lapped three times by every cart, but you don’t care as you wave gracefully to cheering guests and smirking mistresses, amazed at your rebellious mockery of the event.

When you finally cross the picket line, a guest, an elegant Georgian lady, presents Candy with a makeshift wreath of flowers to loud applause from the crowd – much louder than the applause for the victorious Mr. Sullivan.

Immediately requests come in for Candy to serve as a personal maid to several important guests. Choosing a lady with a reputation for strict fairness, you bestow Candy to her new mistress.

Unhitched from her cart, Candy turns to you. “I can’t thank you enough! Lady Caroline is close to the Master – so at last I’ll be able to serve in his presence. But … but I can’t repay you…”

You look around at the adoring guests, hanging on your every word as the most famous mistress of the day. “You already have, Candy – now, be a good girl for Lady Caroline.”

Smiling, you depart to lap up the affection of your new fans.

Gain 3 Fame Points and add 2 to your Dignity.

Turn to page 507.

Page 549

You cannot help but rue your luck – Candy is hardly ideal racing fodder, and the two of you never got on particularly well. Still … any excuse to lash a slave into obedience has to be grasped.

“You’ll do,” you tell Candy, without much enthusiasm. “Training starts tomorrow – I suggest you get a good night’s sleep.”

“Yes, mistress,” murmurs Candy respectfully, mindful of your rank.

Turn to page 542.

Page 550

You’ve always had a soft spot for poor Candy, a slave girl doomed to never advance thanks to her loving and gentle nature. Sneaking her out of the stables, the two of you play, make love, eat fabulous meals, dance, and generally spend the week having a damn good time.

The day before the race the two of you hastily make your way down to the stables, just to re-familiarise yourselves with the basics of pony carting, but otherwise spend a luxurious time spoiling each other.

The race is a disaster. To your mortified embarrassment, Candy collapses halfway through the race – unable to complete it. The laughter and jeers of the crowd ring in your ears. Over the next few days details of your decadent week circulate through the Manor, your relationship with such a lowly slave girl branded ‘inappropriate’.

Candy returns to the kitchens as lowly a creature as ever, and your brazen behaviour causes titters and smirks from guests and mistresses alike.

Lose 2 Fame Points.

Turn to page 507.

Page 551

It’s the day of the race, and two dozen carts, naked pony girls harnessed to them, are arrayed in groups across the start line. Mr. Sullivan, favourite of the match, is pulled into pole position by his new filly, a stern faced slave girl whose back, bottom and breasts are covered in scarlet whip strokes. It seems Mr. Sullivan’s reputation as a cruel and merciless trainer is intact.

Candy is ahead of you, her buttocks twitching in agitation. She is eager for the race to begin, as are you all. Alas, you are positioned somewhat near the back, Candy’s form having taken so long to achieve. You crave victory, but at this point, surrounded by muscular, determined pony girls, heads locked straight ahead in concentration, you just hope that Candy doesn’t embarrass you.

At the sound of the pistol there is a great roar from the crowd, and the rattling of a hundred wheels in motion fill the stadium. Caught up in a claustrophobic box of charging pony carters, it is difficult to force your way ahead.

If you have the Codeword STRICT or BROKEN Turn to page 552.
If not, Turn to page 553.

Page 552

With skill and determination you carefully whip Candy’s pumping buttocks on the left or the right, your superior view from high up showing you the way out of the huddle. Candy does not pause, but simply reacts to each stroke, steering the cart instantaneously to your will. As soon as an opening appears you crack a mighty stroke across Candy’s bouncing breasts, yelling at her to surge forwards. She does, head down, legs pumping, storming past the lower rankings and into the midfield where the race has begun to formalise into a great line of carts – Mr. Sullivan at the front!

You are cautious about making too much progress in the early laps – fearing to use up Candy’s limited endurance so early.

If you have the codeword TRAINED Turn to page 554.
If not, Turn to page 555.

Page 553

From your vantage point standing atop your cart you can see a way out of the clutter of pony girls around you. Alas! Candy panics, frightened by so many aggressive pony carters around her. Instead of veering left she goes right, and careers into another pony cart, knocking one of your wheels clean off!

Candy and you sprawl to the ground, the rest of the racers speeding ahead of you.

Your race is over – you’ve lost.

Turn to page 558.

Page 554

All that training was not wasted. Candy carefully keeps position whilst not overly exerting herself. Where openings become apparent, you eagerly lash her forwards to creep further and further up the track.

Candy is doing well. You are in third place on the last lap – alas, the distance between yourselves and the leaders looks too great to make a difference, and you mollify your disappointment by considering how well you’ve done given this is your first race (as a driver, at any rate).

Then a stroke of luck. The cart behind Mr. Sullivan’s looses a wheel, and goes careering off the track. You are in second place! Mr. Sullivan’s exhausted pony girl, unable to see any near rivals, slows down, the finishing line in view.

With a great crack of the whip you scream at Candy to go faster, lashing her bum fiercely to drive home the point.

If you have the codeword MORALE Turn to page 556.
If not, Turn to page 557.

Page 555

Alas, Candy is exhausted – she simply hasn’t had enough training to compete with such energetic fillies. Trailers from the back row begin to overtake you, despite your lashing whip. You manage to avoid last place by a few cart lengths, but it is hardly the glorious victory you dreamed of.

You have lost.

Turn to page 558.

Page 556

Beneath you, enduring lash after lash, Candy recalls your threat – to give her such a whipping that she has never experienced should she fail to win. Candy has felt your whips many times … she will not fail you now.

As if possessed by a demon, Candy screams in chorus with you, and surges forward, the cart rattling perilously at the high speeds. Mr. Sullivan is unaware of the danger until it is too late … your cart speeds by, half a cart length across the finishing line.

There is a great roar from the crowd, and a cry of disbelief from Mr. Sullivan. Candy collapses, sprawling to the ground, and you leap athletically from the cart, arms raised in triumph. You are crowned with a laurel wreath, and crowds of guests surround you to congratulate you on your dramatic victory.

After about half an hour of celebration you return to check on Candy, who is now kneeling up, still panting from exertion.

“It is traditional for a winning pony girl to be granted a favour,” you say wisely. “Ask for your reward – I’ll grant it if I can.”

Candy swallows, bowing her head. “Please, miss,” she says humbly. “Might I become your personal slave? No one has treated me more cruelly than you – and no one cares so much for my obedience. Can I serve you as your most menial slave?”

“You may,” you smile. “But you can expect nightly thrashings and frequent humiliations. In exchange, you shall give me your total obedience. Agreed?”

“Oh, thank you, miss!” she gushes. “I accept! I accept!”

Now Turn to page 507.

Page 557

Candy just has no more to give! She does increase her speed, but it is hopeless to imagine you can cover the distance. Mr. Sullivan races across the finishing line to wild cheers, Candy and yourself several cart lengths behind.

You have lost.

Turn to page 558.

Page 558

Mr. Sullivan has romped home to a glorious victory. The crowds cheer raucously as he dismounts, accepting all the praise, leaving his exhausted, whipped pony girl uncongratulated.

At the after-race party you congratulate Mr. Sullivan on his victory. He is, as ever, crass in victory. “You never stood a chance, my dear,” he boasts. “I’ve been doing this for over a century. Hundreds of slave girls have whinnied and sweat beneath my riding whip. Don’t worry about your own pony … Candy, or whatever her name is. I’ve decided to adopt her into the stables permanently. She’ll be a pony girl the rest of her days – I’ll whip her into shape, don’t you worry about that!”

Poor Candy! To be ridden, lashed and made to haul fat old Mr. Sullivan around for all eternity is a fate you would not wish on anyone, even a loser like her!

Not wishing to appear a bad looser you wish him well in his endeavours and depart the party.

Turn to page 507.

Page 559

Although slaves are frequently locked into their quarters, most mistresses do not feel the need for keys and locks. They wander the halls like small goddesses, unafraid and full of confidence. Mistress Jessica is one such mistress – no one would dare steal from her, the consequences would be disastrous. That is why you are so afraid…

That night, at three o’clock in the morning, you carefully open the door that leads into Mistress Jessica’s suite of rooms. Creeping forward, as silent as a mouse, you sneak closer and closer to her bedroom door.

Unbeknownst to you, Tabitha, Mistress Jessica’s personal slave, is standing in a darkened corner, her hands on her head, knickers around her ankles. She was commanded to stand in the corner five hours ago, and has not moved since Mistress Jessica went to bed. She can see you as clear as day…

If you have the Codeword TABITHA Turn to page 561.

If not, Tabitha lets out a scream of terror as she sees you. You quickly bolt from the room as the house awakens. Mistress Jessica comes staggering out of bed, demanding to know what all the noise is.

Tabitha does not tell on you – to betray a mistress is a bad policy to a life long slave like her. She says only that a dark stranger tried to gain access to her mistress’s quarters.

Wary of betrayal and enemies, Mistress Jessica hides the contract somewhere more secret. You’ll have to make do without it!

Turn to page 507.

Page 561

Tabitha remembers well your skill with the cane, and is frightened into silence. Unaware of your near disaster, you sneak into Mistress Jessica’s chambers. There she sleeps, a pleasure slave in her bed, and another chained to the footboard. No one is awake. You begin your search.

You search cupboards full of canes and dressers full of leather. There is no sign of the contract. You almost despair until you lay eyes on a heart shaped box on the dressing table. Opening the box with shaking fingers you find a sheet of ancient parchment folded within.

Sure that you have discovered your treasure, you sneak out of the room, unwittingly past the hidden Tabitha. You do not open the parchment until you reach the safety of your room. You are not disappointed.

“I, Supreme Mistress Jessica, pledge my heart, soul and body eternally to the true Master of the house, Geoffrey the Exiled. I long only to serve him as his most menial servant, and carry out his wishes as he sees fit.”

The document is signed in her blood.

The position of Supreme Mistress must now, surely, be yours!

Turn to page 507.

Page 562

You are a new mistress, and a potential rival … does Mistress Jessica trust you enough to ever let her guard down?

If you have the Codeword RUMOUR and your Dignity is 10 or more Turn to page 600.

Otherwise you are either not trusted enough or too … gauche to be invited into her presence.

If you wish now to try to steal the contract, Turn to page 559.
If the whole idea is frankly too dangerous, Turn to page 507.

Page 563

Your shocking discovery in the Underworld puts a whole new light on matters. You may need to build new allies or expose enemies. You may visit anyone on the list one more time – even if you have visited them before. This could be your final opportunity to meet them, so choose carefully.

Turn back to page 508.

Page 564

There is no time to mess around with Veronica now – things are moving apace. You couldn’t possibly trust her with what you’ve learned. Turn back to page 508 and choose again.

Page 565

If you have the Codeword ADVENTURE, turn back to page 507 – you’ve already thoroughly explored.

If not,

If you have the Codeword ETERNITY, Turn to page 566.
If not, read on.

You decide to take a stroll around the manor. You still have no idea how large the Master’s house is, after all, and it would not be fitting to be a Mistress yet unable to direct a guest even to the nearest bathroom!

You stroll down many dark and strange corridors and halls, decorated from a variety of eras. Pillar lined Grecian halls mix with cramped Tudor corridors, or rooms filled with flickering computer screens. The business of the Manor, pleasure, is carried out in every nook and cranny, sighing slave girls serving demanding guests, costumed accordingly, fulfilling every fantasy their lords desire.

Down one corridor, however, you find something more curious. Conspiratorial whispers echo down a medieval, stone lined hall, causing you to hide instinctively. Three slave girls, pleasure slaves by the looks of them, are carefully searching the hallway, whispering frantically to each other.

You watch in amazement as one of them pushes upon a large, round stone, only for the side of the wall to swing open. Giggling, the slaves vanish through the secret door, closing it behind them.

Will you? Smile, and allow the slaves their secrets, returning to your quarters? Turn to page 507.
Wait a few moments and follow the slaves? Turn to page 586.

Page 566

You realise you now have the opportunity to delve into the Underworld, if you wish. It is a fearful place, and you know that many mistresses have ventured within and never returned.

Do you? Stay in the Manor – you will not sacrifice your life of pleasure for mere curiosity! Turn back to page 565 and read on. Gather your hidden supplies and sneak into the Underworld? Turn to page 567.

Page 567

Add 1 Willpower for making this bold decision.

Before you leave you ransack all the secret hiding places you had whilst you were a slave – somehow you feel you will need to be as well equipped as possible.

Remembering the descriptions of the Underworld from your time as the Loremistress’s Assistant, you descend to the lowest levels of the manor, seeking the entrance to the forbidden zone. Eventually you come to an ancient oak door, beset with a shining golden lock. You know in your heart you have found the right place. You attempt to open the door, but find it will not budge – it’s locked tight!

If you have the Codeword GOLD, Turn to page 568.

If not, there is nothing you can do to open the door. The secrets of the Underworld will remain forever mysterious to you! Turn back to page 507.

Page 568

Your heart in your mouth, you insert the golden key you stole from the Steward’s key ring. It fits! The key turns…

The door creaks open into a long, roughly hewn, stone tunnel. The air is warm but stale. Flickering torches adorn the walls, smokeless flames casting the tunnel into a hellish light. You creep forwards down the tunnel.

You eventually come to an intersection. The path to the left looks less well travelled, an ugly, rocky, uneven path leading into the darkness. The path to the right is much smoother, and has obviously been walked many times.

Which way do you wish to go? Left? Turn to page 569.
Right? Turn to page 578.

Page 569

This tunnel is darker, and lit by fewer torches. You tremble in fear as you grope through the darkness. Eventually the tunnel opens out into a wider chamber, shrouded in gloom. Within you can just about make out some sort of wooden furniture – what looks like a clothes horse, a rough chair and table, even several books.

You stifle a cry as you hear a noise and light fills the chamber. Behind you a portcullis slams down sealing the tunnel. You can see another tunnel at the far side of the chamber, but that too has been sealed by another portcullis. You are trapped. And you are not alone.

Standing in the chamber is a strong, muscular man with piercing eyes. He wears only a pair of leather trousers. He stands next to several levers and a bell rope. He surveys you haughtily.

“Welcome to the Underworld,” he says measuredly. “You are not the first Mistress to stumble into our grasp. A life of shame and service awaits you. But in some ways you have been fortunate. Unlike my colleagues I am a fair man, and will give you a chance to escape your shackles.”

The man certainly doesn’t look fair. Your eyes search for a way out … surely the levers would open the portcullises if you could get to them…

The man seems to read your mind. “You could never reach the levers before I could pull the bell cord. The sound would reach the ears of the other Masters. You will find that they are not as fair minded as myself…”

“Who are you?” you ask with as much steel as you can muster.

“My name is Master Annaris – I ruled this Manor many years ago,” he says plainly. “I was cast out for being too fair and generous to my slaves. Those who passed certain tests I set gained many freedoms – unfortunately they used that freedom to overthrow me. The manor was almost lost, and I was exiled. And yet I regret nothing. I believe that any woman who can pass my tests deserves her freedom. What she does with it is not my responsibility.”

There is more than a trace of bitterness in his voice. You can well imagine how easily this man could have been the Master, and just how cruel his ultimate rejection must have been.

“I give you a choice,” says Master Annaris. “You may swear your eternal allegiance to me, and live with me in my dark empire as a slave – you will be given menial tasks, fetching and carrying water, cooking and cleaning, servicing my needs when I desire. You shall be beaten only if you disobey, and then only within reason. In exchange I shall protect you from the other Masters who are far crueller than I.”

“Otherwise, you may seek your freedom by attempting my test. If you succeed you may leave, and I will not alert the other Masters to your presence. Fail … and I shall give you to the other Masters to be used as they see fit.”

“Choose.”

What do you wish to do? Become Master Annaris’s slave? Turn to page 570.
Take the test? Turn to page 571.
Attempt to overpower Master Annaris and gain your own freedom? Turn to page 572.

Page 570

Something tells you deep inside that Master Annaris’ test will be impossible – his bitterness is too profound. You lost your freedom the moment you entered these cursed caves. It is time to formalise that reality.

You drop to your knees before him and lower your head, swearing to forever serve him as his slave, asking only for his protection. Without warning Master Annaris lifts your head, to bring you eye to eye with his engorged and erect member. You know what you must do.

Overwhelmed with despair at your betrayal of the Master above, you accept the cock of the Master below into your mouth, pleasuring him to his desire. Finally, in a crescendo to your submission, his Essence fills your mouth and you swallow bitterly. A powerful orgasm erupts within you, forever binding you to your exiled lord.

Compared to your life as a mistress, this is lowly existence. You labour hard for Master Annaris, seeing to his needs and pleasures, preparing him meals from the refuse shoots where uneaten food from the kitchen tumbles into the Underworld. Master Annaris is strict, and beats you often, but compared to the sufferings of the other slave girls in this wretched place you consider yourself lucky. Most live their entire lives in chains, abused and tormented by fallen Masters, some of whom seem borderline psychotic. At least you have the freedom to move at will …

Alas, you can never escape the Underworld. Having willingly accepted an exile as your Master you are forever bound to him, the strange magics of the underworld forbidding you exit from this dark land. You shall spend the rest of time here, powerless and lowly. And even that, in the Underworld, is a better fate than most receive…

Your adventure ends here.

Page 571

Master Annaris nods, and indicates the large, triangular shaped wooden contraption in the middle of the chamber. “Behold,” he says, “The Rail.”

The Rail is somewhat like a gym horse you might find have found at school, but without padding and somewhat lower. The legs have iron poles inserted through them, and look like they could be raised or lowered accordingly. Metal cuffs for wrists and ankles are positioned at the far ends of the horse, to hold its victim in place. Projecting from the rear of the horse is a raised piece of metal, somewhat curved, and triangular so that one of the sharp edges juts upwards.

“Remove your clothes – then I shall secure you to The Rail and begin your test,” says Master Annaris plainly.

“What kind of test is it?” you ask.

“Like all good tests, it is an endurance test,” he reveals. “You must endure the acute discomfort I put you in. At any time you can end the test and admit defeat, at which point I shall ring the bell and summon the other Masters to take you away. If, however, you endure long enough – I shall release you, and allow you to wander freely.”

“How long must I endure?” you question, trembling to look at the fearsome Rail.

“Until dinner is called,” shrugs Master Annaris. “And I have no idea when that will be. Time … can work strangely here. It may be soon. It may be many hours.”

You look dubiously at him.

“You are totally within my power, girl,” he says with contempt. “I have no reason to lie to you. Now – first remove your clothes, then I will secure you to the rail.”

Will you? Remove your clothes and prepare to take his test? Turn to page 573.
Quickly charge Master Annaris, trying to overpower him and get to the levers? Turn to page 572.
Or play it safe and agree to become his slave? Turn to page 570.

Page 572

With a sudden feral cry you leap towards Master Annaris. Calmly, the Master pulls the bell cord, sending an echoing ring throughout the tunnels of the Underworld. You collide with him, but the man is both strong and skilled, locking you into a bear hug which you cannot escape no matter how much you kick and wriggle.

Moments later dark shapes gather at the portcullises – the exiled Masters of the Underworld have arrived. You see their eyes glittering in the gloom – more girlflesh for them to torment.

It is perhaps best not to dwell on what happens next. Needless to say you become the slave of the Fallen Masters, forever doomed to live in chains, grovel in humiliation, and service the lusts of the powerful mad men. No one in the Manor will ever see you again.

Your adventure ends here…

Page 573

Master Annaris moves your naked body firmly towards the Rail. You are compelled to stretch over it lengthways, straddling the sharp metal rail between your legs carefully. Your ankles, then your wrists are locked in place, the rough wood uncomfortable against your chest and tummy, your breasts dangling on either side of the wooden horse. You are grateful indeed that you are tall enough for your bottom to stick out high over the metal rail.

Your relief is dashed as you witness Annaris crouch to get underneath the apparatus. Turning a small handle you feel the legs of the horse begin to rise. Slowly, at the lips of your sex, you feel the rough edge of the rail begin to push open your pussy lips. You rise up on tiptoe, but the legs continue to rise until the metal bar brushes against your clitoris. Then Annaris suddenly stops. Pushed up on your highest tiptoes, you can just about rise your clit above the bar. If you go a fraction lower, the rail will bite into your sex.

Master Annaris emerges from underneath the horse to feel your taut buttocks appreciatively. He bends down to inspect how deeply the rail is nestled within your pouch, feeling along its sharp length with his finger, brushing delightfully across your clitoris briefly.

Satisfied that all is in order, Master Annaris takes a chair, positioning it a few feet behind you, and sits down to calmly observe your discomfort.

For the first few minutes you endure easily, the adrenaline keeping you high on your toes, eager to keep your clitoris off the cruel metal bar. Soon, however, your big toes begin to ache, momentarily you drop slightly, only to hiss in pain as the uncomfortable bar bites remorselessly into your sex pouch, your compressed clitoris jolting you back onto your tiptoes.

This process continues, your aching toes giving way to rest on the bar briefly, only to find it more painful than remaining taut. Your bum seems to almost bounce up and down on the sharp rail, unable to shift the metal bar out of your sex.

“This is what is called ‘Riding the Rail’,” observes Master Annaris wisely. “From my perspective, it looks almost like you are riding a lover, your bottom rhythmically grinding against the awkward intruder. It is impossible to resolve the agony of your legs, which cannot hold you, and the bar, which you cannot endure. It is a very pleasurable thing to watch.”

Pleasurable for him, perhaps, but for you this torment seems worse than any other, and you are compelled to suffer long stretches of time slumped upon the agonising rail as your legs try to recover their strength. You can feel your resistance to Master Annaris ebbing away.

Lose 2 Willpower points.

Can you endure this suffering any longer? If your Willpower is 7 or more, you manage to endure. Turn to page 574.
If not, turn to 575.

Page 574

You groan, you moan, but you will not give in! Despite the agony between your legs, and the strain within them, you refuse to submit.

“Impressive,” concedes Master Annaris. “Clearly you are capable of enduring much more. Let us add a third element to your suffering to see how you cope.”

Annaris rises from his chair, and moves over to a burlap sack by the side of his mattress. From it he produces a long, worn belt, the end of which he wraps around his wrist.

“Some slaves, loyal to us even in exile, present us with gifts when they can,” explains Master Annaris. “They are allowed to return to the Manor so they may return with other gifts – once, of course, they have been suitably chastised for leaving so long between visits. This is a gift given to me by a slave I never knew the name of whilst I was Master. Indeed, I still don’t, nor do I care to know it now. I treasure this gift she has given me, and hope you do the same…”

At that, Annaris steps behind you, and unleashes a powerful stroke across your straining buttocks.

Crack!

You jolt and cry out, the heavy stroke pressing your bum down onto the rail to bite your most intimate place.

Crack! Crack!

Two more strokes hammer down upon your arse, the rail splitting open your sex lips to roughly caress your clitoris. By the Master, how can you endure this?

Crack! Crack! Crack!

Raise your Bum Status by 3 levels, and lose 1 Willpower point.

If your Willpower is 7 or more, Turn to page 576.
If not, Turn to page 575.

Page 575

The torment is too great! Master Annaris is the uncontested champion of breaking even the strongest spirit, and your reserves have crumbled before him.

“I submit! I submit!” you weep. “Just please, get me off this thing.”

Master Annaris nods, and strides towards the bell cord, tugging it sharply to send an echoing ring through the tunnels.

Moments later dark shapes gather at the portcullises – the exiled Masters of the Underworld have arrived. You see their eyes glittering in the gloom – more girlflesh for them to torment.

Your adventure ends here…

Page 576

Crack! Crack!

Your crimson, straining bum cheeks quiver under the assault from above and below, your sex rubbed red-raw, your arse blistered from the fierce strapping above.

Crack! Crack! Crack!

Tears stream down your cheeks – never have you been so sorely tested, never has hope seemed so far away than now, the cruel, crazed Master unleashing all his skill upon your ravaged behind, such that the pain between your legs seems almost numb.

Raise your Bum Status by 4 levels.

Crack!

Suddenly, as you are on the verge of admitting defeat, a cry echoes through the tunnel. A great, feral roar, more like an animal than a man, that sends shivers down your spine.

“Ah,” says Master Annaris ruefully. “Dinner time. Time passes so quickly when you’re having fun, don’t you agree? It seems you’ve won. I am not bitter – I enjoyed the challenge. Winning all the time would make immortality unbearable, after all…”

Reaching down, Annaris unlocks your hands and feet, and carries you bodily into the chair. You wince as your scalding buttocks make contact with the hard wood – but with the weakness in your legs, you could barely stand anyway.

“I will be several hours at dinner,” announces Annaris, as if he were still the Master of the Manor. “You have freedom to move where you will. I’d suggest leaving as quickly as possible, but it’s up to you. Try not to bump into any other Masters – they are not as sportsmanlike as I am.”

At that, Master Annaris opens the portcullises, and strolls down the tunnel, whistling a merry tune.

You rest for a short time, nursing your sore legs and sex, but soon the combination of fear and adrenaline gets you back on your feet. You must move on, or risk being discovered!

Will you: Flee the Underworld as fast as you can? Turn to page 577.
Press deeper into the Underworld, despite the danger? Turn to page 585.

Page 577

It would be madness to remain here a moment longer! Retracing your steps you manage to sneak back to the main entrance to the underworld. You quickly slip through the door and lock it behind you.

Vowing never to return, and praising your good fortune, you return to your quarters.

Gain 1 Willpower point for surviving the horrors of the Underworld.

Turn to page 507.

Page 578

You wander down the dark tunnels of the underworld, a myriad of twisting paths ahead of you. You hear the laughter of cruel men echo down the tunnels, along with the occasional female moan. Sticking to the shadows you take paths at random, trying to avoid areas where the most sound it coming from.

Eventually you reach the entrance of a large cavern, illuminated by torchlight. Suspended from the ceiling, dangling at all kinds of angles, including upside down, are a number of former mistresses and slaves of the manor who were unlucky enough, or foolish enough, to stumble into the Underworld.

They moan in bondage, unable to escape. Many look terrified. One of them spots you.

“Please!” she begs, revealing your position to the others. “Please help us … the Master’s … they’re mad! They won’t let us out! Please!”

The others join in this chorus of moaning, so loud you fear it might attract attention.

Will you: Quickly flee the Underworld, now you see the fate of those captured? Turn to page 577.
Ignore their cries and press deeper into the tunnels? Turn to page 579.
Attempt to release the pitiful captives? Turn to page 580.

Page 579

With a heart of stone you ignore the captured women’s desperate cries. It is a mistake.

As you venture deeper into the tunnels a number of shapes loom out of the darkness. It is the Masters – they have come to investigate what all the noise is about and punish those responsible. Their delight at seeing you is evident.

After a brief chase you are roughly grabbed, and clapped in irons. You will join the other women suspended from the ceiling in the Prisoner’s Chamber. At leisure, the Masters shall torment and break you to their will. One thing is certain – you will never see the manor, or sunlight, again…

Your adventure ends here…

Page 580

You release the closest captive, bound together with ropes so tightly her ample breasts bulge before her, and command her to help you release the others. More and more women are freed as you release further captives, who in turn help to free others.

You have just released the last captive when a great scream echoes through the chamber. A number of large, handsome, but dangerous looking men, dressed in tattered leathers, emerge from a side tunnel. The exiled Masters have arrived.

“All will be punished!” booms one. “And tighter, crueller restraints used to detain you for this foolish defiance!”

There must be at least a dozen of them advancing upon your shrieking party!

If you have the codeword CAMERA Turn to page 581.
If not, read on.

There begins a desperate struggle as the Masters lunge towards you. A number of the women are immediately grabbed. Others, brainwashed with years of submissive training, simply drop to their knees and wait to be captured by their cruel tormentors.

You are grabbed by a burly Master, who simultaneously struggles with another kicking slave.

Do you have the trait ‘Strong’? If so Turn to page 582.
If not read on.

The two of you are forced to the rocky ground by the great brute and pinned to the floor. Soon, all of the slaves have been re-captured – and are dangling from the ceiling in tight bondage. For their efforts the Masters have earned themselves a new ornament … you.

You will join the other women suspended from the ceiling in the Prisoner’s Chamber permanently. At leisure, the Masters shall torment and break you to their will. One thing is certain – you will never see the manor, or sunlight, again…

Your adventure ends here…

Page 581

Thinking quickly, you grab the camera you retrieved from Natalie, the photographer from the Sussex Chronicler all those months ago. Pointing the camera at the Masters you quickly take a picture. The huge flash on the camera blazes with light, and the Masters, many of whom have lived in darkness for hundreds of years snarl and recoil, quite blinded by the light.

“Run, girls!” you cry, the captives quickly bolting out of the chamber as fast as their legs will carry them.

Will you: Lead them to freedom? Turn to page 583.
Or use the distraction to sneak deeper into the Underworld? Turn to page 584.

Page 582

Fortunately you are stronger than you look. You burst out of the Master’s grab – he is unable to pursue you without releasing his other captive. You bolt down the tunnels, the cries of the newly captured women ringing in your ears.

Turn to page 577.

Page 583

You lead the girls through the tunnels frantically, fearing that the Master’s could pursue you at any moment. After several terrifying minutes and wrong turns you finally manage to make it back to the entrance. Once the girls are out you slam the door shut behind you, locking it securely for good measure.

The weeping slaves and mistresses thank you dearly for rescuing them. This deed will be retold throughout the manor, your heroism and bravery the talk of the house.

Gain 5 Fame points, and add 1 to your Ambition and Willpower scores.

Now Turn to page 507.

Page 584

With outstanding courage (or possibly pure foolishness), you slip away from the fleeing females and plunge deeper into the underworld.

Nevertheless, tales of your heroism will be the talk of the house once the freed slaves and mistresses reach the surface. You may add 5 Fame Points and gain 1 point of Ambition and Willpower.

Turn to page 585.

Page 585

You have been wandering for what feels like hours, terrified at every evil laugh that echoes down the dark tunnels of the underworld. You do not know really what you are looking for – but somehow you are sure that your fate is somehow tied up in this place of fallen Masters.

Then you hear a familiar voice echoing down the tunnels. It is female … strong but sultry. Surely it couldn’t be…?

Creeping towards the sound you peer into a tall, dark chamber, illuminated only by a crackling fire. It is a crude throne room, complete with makeshift throne made of cobbled together pieces of furniture. A proud, imperious man with grey hair sits atop the throne. A woman kneels before him. You stifle a gasp as you see who it is, and duck further into shadow so as not to be seen.

“My Master,” says Mistress Jessica, her head bowed in awe. “My True Master, I do not think I can wait much longer … the anarchy … the chaos in the world above is overwhelming me. How I long for your triumphant return to the land above, and the overthrow of the weak-willed fool who calls himself Master now!”

“You must be patient,” warns the exiled Master. “I can only return if it is the will of the guests. Only once the current Master’s star has fallen, once things have gotten completely out of control, can I ascend. You have … signed the contract?”

“In my own blood!” insists Mistress Jessica stretching out her arms. “I long for your justice! I am your truest slave! I beg only to be used for your pleasure!”

“Insolence!” snaps the dark Master. “Master Geoffrey will not be dictated to by his slave! You have earned seventy strokes of the whip! Bear yourself naked for my justice!”

“Oh, thank you, Master!” weeps Mistress Jessica, quickly stripping naked to be punished.

Your head spins … treason against the Master! The very thought makes you sick … and by the Master’s closest confidant? You must tell him … and yet he would never believe you, he trusts Mistress Jessica completely!

Gain the codeword DARKSOUL.

You quickly begin to sneak away, the sound of Mistress Jessica’s cruel lashing covering your escape. With the troubling conspiracy swimming through your mind you leave the Underworld forever.

Turn to page 507.

Page 586

You wait a few minutes and then creep down the hall, pushing the same stone into the wall that the slaves did. The secret door slides open, revealing a dimly lit stone passageway that ends in a wooden door, slightly ajar. Sounds of pleasures and giggling can be heard from beyond, and your carefully peek round to observe.

The room beyond is tall, and lit only by the light streaming through narrow stained glass windows at the top. A bubbling pool of water dominates the centre of the chamber, flanked by statues of frolicking maidens.

Within the pool, the three slaves, Pleasure Slaves by the looks of them, are engaged in pleasurable activities, their hands vanishing below the waterline to indulge each other in mutual masturbation. It is clear that this is a secret chamber known only to a few slaves, and perhaps the Master himself.

This act is a clear breach of service – only a mistress or the guests may give a slave permission to be pleasured. A slave must, at all times, restrict their own pleasures for the enjoyment of the Master’s chosen.

You are spotted. One of the slave girls shrieks: “A mistress!”

The girls turn around in mutual terror, trembling in fear at the punishment surely coming.

What will you do? Ask if you could join them in their game? Turn to page 587.
Yell at them to get back to work? Turn to page 588.
Or punish them for their insolence? Turn to page 589.

Page 587

The slaves seem shocked at the suggestion, but readily agree. “Of course, Mistress!” they chirp in unison, standing to attention, water dripping down their naked bodies, ready to serve you.

You join the slave girls in the warm, bubbling water, commanding them to entertain you, whilst interrogating them about the chamber.

“It’s known only to pleasure slaves, miss,” confesses one of the dark haired slaves. “We take it in turns to come here, and cover each other’s absence. You see the guests … don’t always care about our own pleasure – so we need to come here every so often to let off some steam. We’re not rebels! I promise! We come here only so we can serve the Master better!”

You allow the pleasure slaves to bring you to pleasurable orgasm before deciding their eventual fate. Add one point to your Willpower.

What do you do? Allow the slaves their secret – but on the condition that you can visit them any time for your own pleasure? Turn to page 643.
Now you have used them, punish them for their outrages? Turn to page 589.

Page 588

You roar at the slave girls to get back to work, or you’ll thrash them so hard that they’ll be unable to sit for a week! Amazed at having got off so lightly the slave girls thank you and dash from the chamber.

You may add one to your Submission for sticking up for your old slave brethren. However, you have been unduly lenient, and when word gets around the other slaves that you are a soft touch their respect for you will plummet. Lose 3 Ambition points.

Now turn to 507.

Page 589

The slaves leap to their feet in attention, their heads dropping meekly. Pleasure slaves are selected not only for their sexual skills, but for their unfailing obedience. This lot will do anything you say.

You command one of them, a blonde, slim slave, to return to the manor and fetch a cane. If she is too slow, or if the cane is too lenient, you inform her that she will receive extra. If she is swift enough, and the cane of sufficient quality, she might escape punishment all together.

The poor girl nods and dashes, naked, from the chamber.

In the mean time you command the other two slaves to stand side by side, bent over, touching toes, whilst they consider their wrongdoings, and the suffering that awaits them. The weak willed slaves comply, all resistance trained or beaten out of them from long years at the manor.

Three minutes later the blonde slave returns, panting and exhausted from her run. In her hands she carries a long, brown cane made of willow. She kneels before you, handing over the cane, and awaits your judgement.

You had best start with the blonde slave. The cane you have been given seems reasonably flexible, if a little old – neither particularly thick nor thin in diameter.

How do you rate the blonde slave’s performance? She was too slow – she has earned a dozen strokes of the cane? Turn to page 590.
The cane is of poor quality – she has earned two dozen strokes of the cane? Turn to page 591.
She was too slow and the cane is of poor quality – she has earned three dozen strokes of the cane? Turn to page 592.
Her speed and cane were both acceptable – she shall receive no strokes for her earnest endeavours? Turn to page 595.

Page 590

The blonde slave meekly accepts your judgement, apologising for her tardiness. Commanding her to bend over next to her colleagues, you swish the cane through the air several times to get a feel for the weapon, the slaves shuddering in expectation.

With practiced aim and, swift vigour, you lash the cane into the blonde slave’s clenching cheeks, a shrill cry escaping her lips. Her fellow slaves shudder – they know the same or worse awaits them for their folly. Smiling at the effectiveness of the cane at reducing proud slaves to quivering jelly, you proceed to whip the cane down in a measured, stinging pace.

Vip! Vip! Vip!

If your Ambition score is 7 or more you spot the blonde slave recoil slightly on the fifth cut, her knees bending as if to absorb the stoke. “Legs straight, slut!” you bark angrily, awarding her an additional six strokes for her defiance. You may add one point to your Willpower or Dignity and add one Cruelty point.

You lash the wincing slave girl to the end of her proscribed dozen. The proud slave does not weep, and remains fixed in place, several of the harder stokes imprinting brightly upon her bottom.

You have not been as harsh as you could have been … still, the girl has learnt her lesson. Gain 1 Cruelty point.

Turn to page 596.

Page 591

The blonde slave swallows – it is as she feared. Apologising for the unworthy implement she has fetched you, she asks how you desire to beat her. Commanding her to bend over next to her colleagues, you swish the cane through the air several times to get a feel for the weapon, the slaves shuddering in expectation.

Vip! Vip! Vip!

If your Ambition score is 7 or more you spot the blonde slave recoil on the fifth cut, her knees bending as if to absorb the stoke. “Legs straight, slut!” you bark angrily, awarding her an additional six strokes for her defiance. You may add one point to your Willpower or Dignity and add one Cruelty point.

After awarding her the first dozen you pause for a few minutes to allow her to enjoy the throb of her cane-kissed buttocks. She remains poised and undefeated, which offends your professional pride somewhat. You had best ensure she feels the next set!

Vip! Vip!

You slice into her buttocks, your jaw firmly set, a squeak emitting from the beaten girl as she realises her all too-short break is over.

Vip! Vip!

If your Ambition score is 8 or more you eagerly watch out for the slightest flinch or break of pose. With a hard heart, you declare she has earned six extra, when a particularly cruel stroke to the lowest portion of her backside makes her jump and rise on her heels. You may add one point to your Willpower or Dignity and add one Cruelty point.

With a final cruel vip! the cane bites its last stroke into her arse, and the blonde slave bursts into small sobs. Nodding with satisfaction, happy to see she has learned the lesson of supplying shoddy goods to a mistress, you allow the beaten girl to rise. Standing in the corner, hands atop her head in case she should raise your ire by touching her bottom, the slave girl quietly sniffles throughout her friend’s punishments – which are due shortly…

If you have the ‘trait’ Sadistic, you may add one to any attribute. Gain 2 points of Cruelty.

Turn to page 596.

Page 592

The blonde slave girl opens her mouth in shock at your pronouncement. Truly she never expected such a harsh penalty. Commanding her to bend over next to her colleagues, you swish the cane through the air several times to get a feel for the weapon, the slaves shuddering in expectation.

Vip! Vip! Vip!

Vip! Vip!

You slice into her buttocks, your jaw firmly set, a squeak emitting from the beaten girl as she realises her all too-short break is over.

Vip! Vip!

With a cruel vip! the cane bites the twenty fourth stroke into her arse, and the blonde slave bursts into small sobs. Her backside is almost glowing red, bright scarlet track lines seeming to brighten the room with their brilliance. You feel within yourself that the girl has probably had enough … but you vowed three dozen.

Will you: Inform the girl her punishment is over? Turn to page 593.
Stick to your word and thrash her another dozen? Turn to page 594.

Page 593

The poor, thrashed slave is overwhelmingly grateful. “Oh, thank you, miss!” she sobs. You, however, are ill at ease. When word gets around that you are a soft touch, your reputation will suffer. Lose 1 Ambition point, and gain 2 Cruelty points.

Turn to page 596.

Page 594

Reminding yourself that this girl is both lazy and incompetent you commence the final dozen strokes into her blazing backside. The poor creature weeps and howls as you issue each stroke, her hands flying to her bottom halfway through. It would take a heart of stone to award punishment strokes.

If you have an Ambition score of 9 a heart of stone is exactly what you possess. You coldly inform the girl that she will receive this dozen again, with half a dozen extra, for daring to touch her bum mid-punishment. The poor pleasure slave, terrified but obedient, mews her way through another dozen cruel strokes, not daring to so much as flinch as your scorch her arse. Gain 1 Willpower point and 1 Cruelty point.

Vip! Vip! VIP!

With a flourish, and a sly diagonal stroke across her bum cheeks, you end the pleasure slave’s punishment, a cruel chuckle escaping your lips. The poor creature weeps openly, shaking and clenching her seared cheeks. This is one punishment she will not forget.

Lose 1 Dignity point for crassly thrashing the slave to tears, and gain 3 Cruelty points.

Turn to page 596.

Page 595

The slave girl shivers with relief. “Thank you, miss,” she says earnestly.

You may add one Submission point for your scrupulous fairness.

Turn to page 596.

Page 596

With your courier dealt with it is time to deal with the other two miscreants. They stand bent over, touching toes, buttocks wobbling in fear at their coming chastisement. But how many do they deserve?

A dozen each? After all, slave girls will be slave girls – you’d have been tempted to do the same in your slave days. Turn to page 597.
Two dozen each? To find decadent pleasure slaves is no surprise, but they have not sought permission from their mistress for this lax joviality! Turn to page 598.
Three dozen each? Sneaking away from their duties? Forming secret covens on the Master’s estate? This is little less than rebellion! Turn to page 599.

Page 597

“You are naughty girls!” you smile. “A dozen each to remind you whose property you are!”

The girls almost sigh in relief. Still, a dozen is still a dozen, and the submissive slaves thrust their buttocks up in preparation for your justice.

Vip! Vip! Vip!

You unleash a cool dozen strokes professionally onto their wayward bottoms, including the odd repeater for unnecessary wiggling. The girls take it stoutly, but emit enjoyable cries at every other stroke or so – though whether this is just to please you, or as a consequence of your caning skills you cannot say.

At the conclusion of this perfunctory caning you dismiss all three, warning them that future disobedience will merit extra. All three assure you of their continued good behaviour as they flee the chamber.

All three are lying – you have been far too lenient, and the slave girls know it. They will be back, perhaps with better preparation, but the promise of a few weedy stokes across their experienced behinds is no deterrent.

Lose 2 Ambition points.

Turn to page 507.

Page 598

“Your real crime was not getting caught, but the audacity of thinking for yourselves!” you thunder. “A slave has no thought – she obeys her mistress, and does not embark on jolly excursions to disused parts of the manor. Two dozen strokes each!”

The slave girls moan in despair – yet this is exactly the level of punishment they were expecting. They thrust their buttocks high in the air as you take your place behind them, teasingly tapping the cane against their proffered rears – tormenting them, making them wait for their punishment so definitely earned.

Vip! Vip! Vip!

Your cane sinks into their flesh with satisfied vindication, and the sharp cries from the punished girls are quite real. The blonde slave, watching from the sidelines, winces in sympathy as the strokes of your righteous cane raise bold track lines across their bottoms.

At the termination of their punishment, slightly overrun due to the number of repeat strokes you were obligated to award, the girls assure you in turn that they will never again go on independent adventures, or in any way undermine their mistress.

They mean it … for the moment. In time their buttocks will heal and they will wonder what all the fuss was about. Their desires will overcome the ache in their bottoms and they will soon be back to their old tricks.

Lose 1 Ambition point, but gain 2 points of Cruelty.

Now Turn to page 507.

Page 599

“Your actions have been little short of outright rebellion!” you boom at the trembling slave girls. “To disregard your duties, to keep secrets from the Master and his mistresses smacks of emancipation!”

The slaves gasp. “No, miss!” insists one, still grasping her ankles. “We’re not rebels, honestly! We just did it as a bit of fun!”

“Fun? Fun?” you roar. “You shall have fun when your mistress decrees it, not at your own choosing! Three dozen each for your defiance!”

The two slaves begin to object, before being silenced by the fearsome whoosh of the cane. Vip! Objections turn to high pitched cries as you unleash the Master’s justice upon their insubordinate backsides.

Vip! Vip!

The blonde slave looks on in terrified sympathy as her colleagues are thrashed mercilessly. Soon their backsides are embedded with shiny red track lines that protrude from the bum flesh in long ridges. Without a trace of pity you award extra strokes for the slightest shuffle, bend or movement – even awarding an extra half dozen for one girl who almost succeeds in grasping her flaming bottom, before having her hands rapped away by your warm cane.

Gain 3 Cruelty Points.

Reduced to sobbing wrecks, the girls earnestly insist they will never defy a mistress again, let alone visit this secret chamber. You have been harsh, perhaps, but justified. Such behaviour from slaves can only be remedied with the strictest punishments.

Gain 1 point of Ambition and 1 Fame Point.

Dismissing the weeping slaves you return to your chambers, swelled with pride over a job well done.

Turn to page 507.

Page 600

You may be new, but you are easily the most fashionable, graceful, and talked about mistress in the manor. Beyond this Mistress Jessica trusts you. It is a matter of ease to be invited to one of the many parties she holds in her private wing of the manor.

There, in the company of other high ranking mistresses, such as Miss. Rose and Mistress Odessa, you partake of gossip, wine and fine foods, waited on by terrified domestic slaves whom you each take great delight in thrashing for the smallest, often imagined, failure or offence.

You delight everyone with your conversation, although you are careful not to upstage Mistress Jessica. You think you see a twinkle in her eye as she watches you talk or thrash – you know well that Mistress Jessica has a well developed liking of female flesh. Perhaps she is interested in you?

Gradually the guests begin to leave, Mistress Jessica personally saying goodbye to each one. You, as the newest mistress, are last in line to leave – a fact Mistress Jessica uses to her advantage.

A dark glint appears in her eyes as she addresses you. “Perhaps,” she says huskily, “you would care for a cup of coffee before going?”

There is something about the look she is giving you that unnerves you slightly – perhaps she is on to you?

Do you: Accept her offer? Turn to page 601.
Gently decline, fearing betrayal? Turn to page 602.

Page 601

Mistress Jessica snaps her fingers, and her slaves immediately dash to the kitchen to make your coffee. She leads you to her bedroom, a large chamber of deep reds and old furniture. At the base of her large bed is Tabitha, her personal slave girl, naked and chained to the railings.

Mistress Jessica sits upon the bed, and gently taps the bed sheets encouraging you to sit next to her, which you do. Your coffee is delivered, but Mistress Jessica intercepts it, placing it upon the bedside table near her.

“Do you trust me?” she smiles wickedly.

“Of course, mistress,” you reply diffidently.

Mistress Jessica opens the bedside table and produces a pair of steel handcuffs from it. “You are a superb mistress,” she purrs, “but I miss the old days when you were at my mercy. Put yourself at my mercy again.”

What do you do? Insist that it is very late and you have to go? Turn to page 602.
Offer your wrists to Mistress Jessica? Turn to page 603.
Suggest that she might like to wear them? Turn to page 611.

Page 602

Mistress Jessica stiffens and goes cold. “Of course,” she says. “Our work must come first. Do sleep well.”

There is little sincerity in her voice. You have offended Mistress Jessica. Lose 3 Fame Points, the Supreme Mistress is unlikely to speak well of you from now on!

Turn to page 507.

Page 603

Mistress Jessica smiles and clicks the cold handcuffs into place. She pulls you gently over her lap, lifting your party dress to expose your buttocks. Licking her lips slightly she brings her hand sharply down.

Smack! Smack!

It is a surprisingly quaint beating, Mistress Jessica using only her hand to redden your buttocks. The effect is hardly painful – rather it stokes the building desire between your thighs. Her hand warmly caresses your cheeks between strokes – teasing you, massaging you, tingles running up and down your spine to be treated so preferentially by the Supreme Mistress (even a treasonous one like her).

Smack! Smack! Smack!

The spanking warms your bum, but little more. Raise your Bum Status by 1 Level.

There is a pause in the beating, as if Mistress Jessica is deciding what to do with you.

Will you: Beg for more? Turn to page 604.
Offer to pleasure her? Turn to page 610.

Page 604

Mistress Jessica laughs in surprise. “Once a slave, always a slave, eh? Still – you’re not a slave, so let’s make this pleasant for you. Rise, and bend over the side of the bed. Tabitha!”

Tabitha, Mistress Jessica’s personal slave, bolts to attention. “Yes, miss?”

“You shall pleasure this mistress whilst I beat her,” says Mistress Jessica breezily.

Tabitha assists you from Mistress Jessica’s lap and has you kneel across the side of the bed, a soft pillow tucked under your chin. She softly massages your warm buttocks, opening your knees wide, before turning to lie on her back, lifting her head so that her mouth rests against your sex lips. Tugging with helpless delight upon your handcuffs, you moan as Tabitha begins to gently nuzzle around your sex, her tongue peeking out occasionally to lap your clitoris.

By this time Mistress Jessica has found what she was searching for – a long, rough tawse used upon Tabitha’s buttocks this very night.

“I shall beat you until you come,” Mistress Jessica curtly informs you. “So it is you who will decide how many strokes to receive – which is fitting for a mistress.”

She allows you a few moments grace, getting used to the luxurious tongue probing your sex lips, before unleashing more heat upon your backside.

Snap! Snap!

You moan in mixed pleasure and pain, as Mistress Jessica indulges her desire to hurt your bottom. All the time Tabitha continues to lick, nibble and tease, sending shudders through your belly.

Snap! Snap!

You buck and thrust your hips, riding Tabitha’s mouth as you accept the blows and licks that bombard your intimate parts. The pleasure of being restrained, punished and rewarded is a potent cocktail, and you are convinced you shall soon descend into blissful orgasm.

Raise your Bum Status by 2 Levels as Mistress Jessica batters your arse with her well-worn tawse.

Will you: Let yourself go and come wildly as you are licked and lashed? Turn to page 605.
Try to hold off your orgasm so as to receive more strokes? Turn to page 606.

Page 605

Such shameful, painful desire! How could you possibly hold off? You pull vainly against your handcuffs, claw the bed sheets and scream with orgasm, rubbing your dripping sex all over Tabitha’s eager face. Raise one of your attributes by 1 point. Mistress Jessica gives you one last Snap! of the tawse before grabbing you roughly and spinning you onto your back.

In moments the Supreme Mistress has mounted your own face, and is riding her tight sex upon your slurping tongue. You suck and gorge yourself upon Mistress Jessica’s clit, her fierce ride of your mouth hurting your teeth as you desperately seek to pleasure her.

It takes moments, so powerful is the heady atmosphere, and soon a torrent of Mistress Jessica’s sex juice is gargling down your throat as she snarls into a fluttering orgasm.

Exhausted, elated, you are released from bondage and clasped in a tight embrace. You and your fellow mistress grasp each other and, finally sated, collapse into a deep sleep.

Turn to page 608.

Page 606

It will take supreme control to suppress your own desires. Thinking back to your slave days you try to focus only on the blistering pain in your bum, and ignore the teasing tongue in your sex.

If your Submission is 9 or more Turn to page 607.
If not, Turn to page 605.

Page 607

You grit your teeth and cry out, focusing only on the bruising state of your buttocks, Tabitha’s desperate efforts below you forgotten.

Mistress Jessica rains blow after blow upon your bum cheeks, which wriggle and jerk under the bombardment. Already a scorching crimson, the Supreme Mistress batters your buttocks until dark, purple blotches begin to rise, and you are sobbing with the aching soreness.

“I know you’re game, wench!” pants Mistress Jessica, never ceasing to pound your bum cheeks with the heavy tawse. “You want to show you can take everything I can give? Well I’ve got a lot more! A lot more!”

Snap! Snap! Snap!

You cling on in a state of near orgasm for almost an hour, sweat dripping from you, Tabitha and your relentless punisher. Heavy breaths escape Mistress Jessica’s lips as her sore arm cracks stroke after stroke onto your wriggling purple bum.

Raise your Bum Status by 5 levels.

Finally it is all too much. Tabitha, herself exhausted from her long efforts, sucks hard upon your clitoris, her teeth digging into your sensitive organ. The overwhelming intensity tips you over the edge, and you scream into orgasm, your whole body jolting stiffly. The orgasm brings blessed relief, even if it is cloaked in pain.

Mistress Jessica gives you one last Snap! of the tawse before grabbing you roughly and spinning you onto your back.

It takes moments, so powerful is the heady atmosphere, and soon a torrent of Mistress Jessica’s sex juice is gargling down your throat as she snarls into a fluttering orgasm.

Totally exhausted, elated, you are released from bondage and clasped in a tight embrace. You and your fellow mistress grasp each other and, finally sated, collapse into a deep sleep.

Turn to page 609.

Page 608

You wake in the night. Mistress Jessica lies next to you – apparently asleep. Tabitha lies curled into a ball at the foot of the bed, snoozing softly.

Now is your chance to search the room. You rise from the sheets as softly as you can and get to your feet.

“Where are you going?” moans Mistress Jessica softly. Curses! She is still awake.

“Err … toilet,” you say quickly.

“Down the hall – first right. Be quick – it’s cold without you…” she smiles.

A narrow escape! You leave the bedroom and perform a quick search in Mistress Jessica’s suite of rooms but you cannot find the contract. It must be in her room – and she’s not tired enough to let you search it in peace!

Trying to conceal your disappointment you return to the bedroom, Mistress Jessica welcoming you back expectantly. You spend the rest of the evening making love to the beautiful Supreme Mistress but wishing dearly in your heart she was just a bit more tired…

The next morning Mistress Jessica hurries you on, explaining she has a lot of work to do. There is no opportunity to search her rooms. Now there never will be.

Turn to page 507.

Page 609

You wake in the night. Mistress Jessica lies next to you – deeply asleep. Tabitha lies curled into a ball at the foot of the bed, snoozing softly.

Now is your chance to search the room. You rise from the sheets as softly as you can and get to your feet.

The document is signed in her blood.

You hide the contract in your clothing. The position of Supreme Mistress must now, surely, be yours!

The next morning Mistress Jessica hurries you on, explaining she has a lot of work to do. You are only too happy to get out of her hair and hide the contract in a safe place!

Turn to page 507.

Page 610

“Well … if you insist, my dear,” smiles Mistress Jessica, pulling you from her lap and kissing your lips wetly.

Soon you are on your back, a naked Mistress Jessica riding your mouth. Tabitha is commanded to pleasure you as you pleasure the Supreme Mistress. Tabitha’s disciplined tongue soon has you orgasming powerfully, with Mistress Jessica not far behind.

Raise one of your Attributes by 1 point.

Tired and warm from your endeavours, the three of you snuggle down to sleep, the two mistresses in bed, Tabitha returning to her place on the floor.

Turn to page 608.

Page 611

Oops! That was an impertinent thing to say to the Supreme Mistress…

Vip!

Clutching your ankles in pain as yet another stroke from the Supreme Mistresses’ cane slices into your naked bottom you call aloud the tally as you have been commanded.

“Ouch! Sixty three! I’m sorry, miss!”

Vip!

“Nnngg! Sixty four! I’m sorry, miss!”

“Never – never ask the Supreme Mistress to wear a restraint again!” fumes Mistress Jessica, her eyes sparkling with rage. “Or the next punishment you’ll get will make this feel like a simple half dozen!”

Vip!

“Ahh! Sixty five! I’m sorry, miss!”

A hundred such strokes are delivered in all – your backside so welted you can barely sit down for a week. Needless to say, the contract is very far from your mind as you endure your agonising, all night punishment.

Raise your Bum Status by 8 levels.

Having lost her affections you shall never visit Mistress Jessica’s quarters again.

Turn to page 507.

Page 612

Although all real work in the manor is performed by slaves, mistresses are assigned to certain departments. Generally this requires very little real work – the occasional random beating of an underperforming slave, a surprise inspection or two. Most mistresses are quite hands-off employers, preferring to concentrate on their personal pleasures and schemes.

Still – you get out what you put in, and the mistresses of a well run department can earn considerable prestige. As a new mistress your department is relatively meagre – you run the Court of Justice.

The Court is really little more than a show trial for humiliating slaves (or, very rarely, mistresses) who have been found wanting, fighting, plotting or just lazing around. Very few cases are put to the Court for two reasons. First, the trail is always a foregone conclusion. Secondly, most mistresses will simply whip underperforming slaves themselves and not bother with Court proceedings.

Technically, any slave can demand a trial if she feels her mistress is being unduly harsh. This was news to you – no one at the manor ever advised you of this right when you were a slave. Reviewing the case books you can see why: the slave is always found guilty, and invariably given a harsher punishment than she would have received at her mistress’s hands anyway.

It is expected that you will maintain the status quo and punish all accused slaves according to the severity of their crimes. However, as best as you can see from the case books, there is nothing to stop you from awarding any sentence you deem appropriate.

You begin with a simple case. Dressed up in your imposing legal robes sitting high in your judges chair, the Prosecutor, another lesser mistress known as Miss. Hatchet, leads the miserable accused slave girl to the dock.

A number of guests, who enjoy the drama of these staged proceedings, are watching with interest to see how you fare.

“Your honour,” bows the Prosecutor. “May it please you to direct your attention to this unworthy slave, who answers to the name Ramona? She is accused of the serious crime of lying to guest.”

“A serious crime indeed,” you muse. “Who is her accuser?”

The Prosecutor looks a little surprised you asked. “Mr. Jefferies, your honour. He was on his third visit to the manor when the outrage happened.”

Will you: Sentence the girl immediately? After all, she wouldn’t be here if she wasn’t guilty! Turn to page 616.
Investigate further? Turn to page 613.

Page 613

“What are the details of the crime?” you press, accompanied by a slight shuffling from the assembly. Few judges ever bother to ascertain the facts of a case before deciding punishment.

The Prosecutor raises her eyebrows and looks back towards her legal team (slaves disloyal enough to betray their own kind to the court). “If I may beg your honour’s indulgence a moment?” she says, quickly rifling through the notes presented to her.

You wrap your fingers on your desk impatiently as the Prosecutor reads up on the case. “Miss. Hatchet – do try to come better prepared in future,” you admonish, accompanied by titters from the crowd (as well as the accused, who quickly covers her mouth when the Prosecutor glares angrily at her).

“Sorry, you’re Honour – I am ready now,” says the ruffled Prosecutor. “The accused, Ramona, lied to the guest about the condition of his shirt. She was asked to clean it, but the shirt was stained in the wash. Rather than confess her crime she threw the shirt away. When confronted she at first claimed to know nothing about the fate of the shirt – but later confessed to ruining it.”

You nod. “I see, so the lie was the accused’s refusal, at first, to confess the fate of the shirt to Mr. Jefferies.”

“That is correct, your honour,” says the Prosecutor wearily.

Will you? Now consider your sentence? Turn to page 616.
Or dig deeper for more details? Turn to page 614.

Page 614

“There are a few facts I wish to establish before continuing,” you say breezily. The court looks shocked. This has already been one of the longest investigations in court history, and the accused still has not been punished.

Gain 1 Fame Point, but lose 1 point of Dignity – it is hardly seeming for a judge to be so interested in a slave girl.

“Is Mr. Jefferies in court today?” you inquire.

A gentleman, middle aged, dressed in a gleaming white suite, stands up in the viewing gallery. “I am, your honour,” he says simply.

“I wonder if you might answer a few questions, sir?” you ask politely.

Mr. Jefferies looks intrigued. “Of course,” he smiles, walking boldly down the stairs and into the witness box. The Prosecutor shakes her head in amazement at these lengthy proceedings.

“Mr. Jefferies,” you say. “Are the facts we have heard in court, relating to the slave Ramona, correct?”

“Quite correct, yes,” concurs the guest.

“I am puzzled, sir,” you confess. “Why, having got the slave girl’s confession, did you not punish her yourself?”

Mr. Jefferies considers this for a few moments before answering. “I’ve punished slave girls before, obviously,” he says cautiously. “But I’ve never been sure I’ve awarded the correct amount. Am I too lenient? Too harsh? That’s why I decided to submit this case to trial. I wanted to see what a professional would make of the situation – to act as a guide, if you will, to future punishments I hand out.”

It seems fair – although it has certainly put the pressure on you!

Will you: Now sentence the girl? Turn to page 616.
Inquire yet further? Turn to page 615.

Page 615

“I think it’s best if I interviewed the accused,” you say thoughtfully.

There is a cry of disbelief in the court room. A judge, seeking a slave girl’s view or opinion? It is unprecedented!

“I must object, your honour!” cried the Prosecutor. “You are making a mockery of this trial!”

“I shall decide how to run this court, Miss. Hatchet, not you!” you snap. “And you shall remain silent unless you wish to be found in contempt of this court!”

The Prosecutor fumes as Ramona takes the stand, the poor slave girl bewildered and confused by the goings on.

“You are Ramona – a hospitality slave assigned to Mr. Jefferies?” you enquire.

“Yes, your honour,” says the slave girl clearly, trembling slightly.

“You’ve been accused of lying to Mr. Jefferies – did you lie to Mr. Jefferies?” you press.

“Yes, your honour, I did,” she confirms.

“Why did you lie to Mr. Jefferies, Ramona?”

Ramona swallows. “I didn’t want to get in trouble, your Honour.”

“Well,” you say grandly. “You’re in trouble now, Ramona, aren’t you?”

“Yes, your honour.”

“Fascinating,” says the Prosecutor icily. “Perhaps now we could sentence this lying slut? Or should I order a pizza takeaway whilst you probe deeper into this fascinating case?”

The assembled guests laugh. Lose 2 Dignity points for garnering the testimony of an accused slave. Deciding to save yourself any further embarrassment you consider the girl’s sentence.

Turn to page 616.

Page 616

It’s time to deliver you sentence to Ramona. The assembled guests lean forwards to hang upon your every word.

What is your sentence? Guilty. Two dozen strokes of the tawse upon Ramona’s naked buttocks, to be delivered by Mr. Jefferies here in the courtroom. Turn to page 617.
Guilty. Three dozen strokes of the Prison strap upon Ramona’s bum cheeks, delivered by you, personally. Turn to page 618.
Guilty. The crime is very serious – three dozen strokes of the cane, to be delivered by Miss. Rose, the house’s most feared whipper upon Ramona’s doomed arse. Turn to page 619.
Not Guilty. Case dismissed. Turn to page 620.

Page 617

A rather lenient sentence, the guests seem almost disappointed. Still – your word is law. Mr. Jefferies rises from his seat, his white suit gleaming in the light. Ramona is led by the Prosecutor to the whipping bench, a triangular contraption designed to expose the guilty party’s buttocks to their maximum effect. Ramona, evidently expecting such treatment, obediently folds herself over the bench, her short skirt folded into the small of her back by the Prosecutor.

Mr. Jefferies is handed the court tawse, a three tongued red-leather device well worn from extensive use upon many different slave girl’s bottoms. Gripping on to one end of the punishment device, he roundly strikes Ramona’s bottom with an impressive Snap!

Ramona remains still and quiet during her beating. Mr. Jefferies has only little skill at punishment, and Ramona is not really taxed very hard by his ineffectual and clumsy whipping.

At the end of the session, Ramona’s bottom blushed a faint red, she thanks Mr. Jefferies, the Prosecutor, and you for her punishment, and leaves with Mr. Jefferies, a slight skip in her step.

The lenience of your court shall become known to all the slaves. Lose 1 point of Ambition.

Turn to page 621.

Page 618

“It would be impossible to expect a slave to stop lying,” you say dryly. “But as a judge and a mistress it is my responsibility to at least attempt to dissuade you from such duplicitous behaviour in future. Three dozen strokes with the prison strap – delivered by my own fair hand.”

Ramona swallows. “Thank you, your honour.”

“Lead the convicted slave to the whipping bench,” you command.

Ramona is led by the Prosecutor to the whipping bench, a triangular contraption designed to expose the guilty party’s buttocks to their maximum effect. Ramona, evidently expecting such treatment, obediently folds herself over the bench, her short skirt folded into the small of her back by the Prosecutor.

“The convict is prepared, your honour,” intones the Prosecutor reverently.

You step down from your podium, passing your judge’s robe to a court slave as you go (court clothes have far too much drag for a proper whipping). The prison strap is retrieved and presented to you by a kneeling slave girl, who averts her eyes from your magnificence as you casually wrap one end of the strap around your hand.

Ramona, her naked bum jutting high above her, trembles slightly. Rumour has got about that you are a fearful martinet who enjoys whipping the bums of disobedient slaves. Now is your chance to justify your reputation. Taking your stance behind the beautifully presented slave girl, you whip fiercely down upon her insubordinate buttocks.

Crack!

Ramona winces and rises up on the whipping bench, a red blush painting her cheeks from the stinging blow inflicted upon her bottom. She grips the lower bar of the bench tightly for comfort – anything to prevent her hands leaping to her struck behind.

Crack! Crack!

Two more strokes, delivered close together, has her grunting in complaint, her bum visibly rising and wobbling under the powerful blows of your prison strap.

Crack! Crack!

You continue to paint the guilty girl’s arse red with your strap, to the occasional applause of the watching guests, who cheer whenever a particularly powerful stroke cracks across her jiggling behind.

Crack!

If your Ambition score is 6 or more, you deliver your strokes with a cruel and even rhythm, causing poor Ramona to howl musically at each stroke. Gain 1 Dignity point as you lap up the cheers of the appreciative guests.

With a final, ruthless Crack! to her red-bruised behind, you complete the thirty-sixth stroke upon the sweating, exhausted Ramona. A ripple of applause crosses the court room – justice has been done, and completed with panache.

Gain 2 Fame points, and 1 Cruelty point.

If you have the trait ‘Sadistic’, add one point to any attribute.

Now Turn to page 621.

Page 619

“I cannot abide a liar!” you call across the court room. “Lying is as good as sedition, for when a slave girl keeps secrets and gets away with it she begins to think herself better than those she serves. The slave Ramona must be forcefully reminded of her lowly position in this house.”

Ramona looks horrified at your remarks. “Please, your honour,” she begs. “I’m no rebel – I just wanted to avoid a spanking! We slaves get spanked so often…!”

“Silence!” you roar, Ramona wilting under your forceful presence. “This court does not have the facilities to deal with unrepentant criminals such as you. Therefore you shall report, at a time of her choosing, to Miss. Rose for a disciplinary caning of not less than three dozen strokes of the cane upon your naked bottom. May the Master have mercy upon you.”

There is a gasp from the court, and another cry from Ramona. “No, your honour! Please! Not Miss. Rose, anyone but her…”

“The sentence is final! Court dismissed!” you snarl.

Ramona bursts into tears, and has to be helped from the court by a prosecution slave, accompanied by dark mutterings from the watching guests.

The Prosecutor sidles up to you. “Weren’t you rather harsh on the poor girl? I mean … Miss. Rose!”

You smile. “Just setting the tone for my first case. Don’t want to appear too soft. You have to leave a mark on a job like this.”

“Well,” grins the Prosecutor slyly, “you’ll certainly leave a mark on Ramona’s bottom, that’s for sure!”

Gain 3 Cruelty points and 1 Fame point.

If you have the trait ‘Sadistic’ you may add 1 point to any attribute.

Turn to page 621.

Page 620

“I find the accused not guilty, case dismissed!” you announce.

There is a gasp from the whole court, including Ramona, who looks utterly confused. The Prosecutor strides up to your chair and whispers urgently.

“Were you listening to the same case as me?” she hisses. “Not guilty – are you mad?”

You shrug. “This matter is beneath the court’s notice. If Mr. Jefferies caught his slave lying he should have disciplined her himself, not dragged her in front of half the manor. It belittles the court.”

“He’s a guest!” snaps the Prosecutor. “And she’s guilty!”

“I decide who is guilty here,” you warn the Prosecutor. “Case dismissed!”

Bewildered, Ramona is escorted from the courtroom a free woman. News of these events spreads quickly through the Manor. Cruel tongues begin to gossip that you are not cut out to be a Mistress or a judge.

Lose 2 Fame Points and 2 points of Ambition.

Now Turn to page 621.

Page 621

The next case is more unusual. A tall, voluptuous, dark haired slave girl, with a defiant expression is brought into the courtroom, accompanied by a rather cross looking guest – a suited businessman from the early 20th Century by the looks of him.

“If it pleases the court,” intones the Prosecutor. “The pony slave Abigail wishes to make an official complaint to the court regarding her treatment by Mr. Hamilton, a guest of long standing within the manor.”

You roll your eyes. “A pony girl, complaining?” you sneer. “Pony carting is optional within the manor, and famous for the stresses it places upon a slave. Surely this girl knew what she was letting herself in for before joining up?”

“None the less, she wishes to complain about her treatment,” says the Prosecutor. She pauses for a few moments before speaking again. “It may amuse the court to hear the nature of her complaint.”

“Oh, very well,” you huff. “Speak, pony girl – and be brief! I want you thrashed and repentant before lunchtime!”

Abigail addresses you in a clear, if somewhat inappropriately confidant tone. “Your honour,” she says, “I am the Pony slave of Mr. Hamilton. After many weeks of training I competed in the recent Pony Cart races outside the manor. I came third. As punishment for my failure to win, Mr. Hamilton released me from the cart, took me over his knee and spanked my bare bottom with his hand for a period of five minutes.”

You shrug. “Sounds perfectly lenient to me.”

“Exactly, your honour,” fumes Abigail. “Far too lenient. I had been in training for weeks and had ample opportunity to improve my speed. I humiliated him on the racetrack. I deserved a proper thrashing, not a few gentle pats on the behind.”

Mr. Hamilton flushes in mortification.

Will you: Pass sentence on Abigail? Turn to page 626.
Probe deeper into the events leading up to the spanking? Turn to page 622.

Page 622

“Mr. Hamilton,” you say, addressing the red-faced guest. “I would like to reassure you that you are not on trial here – but if you could answer a few questions I could more accurately sentence the pony girl before me.”

“Of course, your honour, ask anything you like,” says Mr. Hamilton.

“Thank you,” you say. “First could I ask you if you consider the punishment you gave Abigail to be lenient or appropriate, given the circumstances?”

Mr. Hamilton is silent for a few moments, before admitting. “I suppose it was a bit lenient.”

You nod. “Given that, can you tell us why you gave Abigail such a lenient punishment?”

“Well … I suppose … look,” mumbles, looking slightly irritated Mr. Hamilton. “I’m a guest! I can punish any slave any way I want!”

Lose 1 Dignity point for embarrassing a guest.

Will you: Pass sentence on Abigail? Turn to page 626.
Or continue to press deeper into the case? Turn to page 623.

Page 623

“Forgive me, Mr. Hamilton,” you say obsequiously, “but I fear I must press you upon this point. Why did you punish you slave so lightly, when she deserved a harsher punishment?”

Mr. Hamilton covers his face with his hands a moment, before answering. “Because…” he says, his eyes swelling with tears, “because losing the race wasn’t her fault.”

The Prosecutor shakes her head in amazement. You clear your throat. “Mr. Hamilton, I’m not sure I quite understand. You weren’t the one pulling the cart, were you?”

“No, but…” Mr. Hamilton hesitates before continuing. “But the fact is I didn’t train the girl very well. Or very often. She was so keen to win, but I was quite content just to trundle along. I didn’t realise how eager she was for victory until the final week, where she spoke about nothing but crossing that finishing line and catching the Master’s eye. I let Abigail down. I didn’t have the heart to thrash her.”

Tears leak from the guests eyes as he confesses. Abigail remains very silent and still – but you see little compassion for her weeping rider.

Lose 1 Dignity point for humiliating a guest in front of others.

Will you: Now sentence Abigail? Turn to page 626.
Console Mr. Hamilton? Turn to page 624.

Page 624

If your Submission is 8 or more, Turn to page 625.
If not, read on.

“Mr. Hamilton, try not to cry,” you say earnestly. “A guest shouldn’t be troubled by the moaning of an insignificant slave.”

“She’s not insignificant!” weeps Mr. Hamilton. “She’s strong, earnest, ambitious … she’s … she’s a far better human being than I am!”

Mr. Hamilton collapses into sobs and has to be removed from the dock. Your embarrassment at the situation is keen. Your job is to give the guests unlimited pleasure, not have them bare their agonised soul in public!

Lose 2 Dignity points and lose 1 Fame Point.

You had better sentence this useless Pony Girl now! Turn to page 626.

Page 625

“Mr. Hamilton, I want you to listen to me,” you say firmly to the weeping guest. “If Abigail really wanted to win that race – if she truly, absolutely wanted to win, she would have. The rules of the world do not operate the same in the manor – in the outside world perhaps Abigail never stood a chance. But in the manor dreams and desires become real. The reason Abigail didn’t cross that finish line first is because some other pony girl wanted it more than she did. She failed you, Mr. Hamilton. And now I think it’s time to punish her properly for that, don’t you?”

Mr. Hamilton dries his tears, your words having soothed his fractured soul. “Thank you, your honour.”

The court looks upon you with new respect. Gain 3 Dignity points and 2 Fame points.

Now it’s time to sentence Abigail. Turn to page 626.

Page 626

This is a difficult matter to sentence. On the one hand Abigail deserves a thrashing for embarrassing a guest by dragging him to court. But to do that clearly plays into her hands. The girl clearly relishes the whip, and was disappointed not to receive it. On the other hand the guest clearly was too lenient in his punishment, but punishing her further means demeaning a guest.

What shall you rule? The girl must be satisfied with what she received. Case dismissed. Turn to page 627.
The girl’s punishment was inadequate for losing such an important race. Four dozen strokes of the cane to be delivered by the Prosecutor to Abigail’s naked buttocks. Turn to page 628.
The girl’s punishment must stand, however, she is to receive two dozen strokes of the cane, delivered by you, for bringing this action against a guest. Turn to page 629.
Or, if you have the Codeword VICTORY or LOSER, have Abigail’s ownership transferred to a guest who will motivate her properly. Turn to page 630.

Page 627

“This girl, Abigail, has no business dictating her punishment to anyone,” you declare loudly. “Her request is dismissed.”

Abigail’s shoulders slump in disappointment. There are no claps or cheers from the benches – however, it is generally perceived that justice has been served here, and that the pony girl’s arrogance has been suitable crushed.

Gain 1 Fame Point.

Turn to page 631.

Page 628

Abigail almost jumps with joy at your decree. “Thank you, your honour!” she cried.

“Thank me after the Prosecutor has done with you,” you snarl. “Secure her to the punishment bench. This wilful slut is going to be bucking by the end of this!”

Abigail is swiftly escorted to the punishment bench. Bent over, secured with metal cuffs, her bum bared for punishment, Abigail thrusts her bottom high in expectation, moisture visibly gathering at her sex.

Concerned at this unsuitably joyous acceptance, you confer with the Prosecutor quietly before the beating begins. “Make sure she feels this,” you whisper. “The reputation of the court is at stake.”

“You can count on me, your honour,” says the Prosecutor, gleefully flexing her long rattan cane before the bum of the impenitent pony girl.

Presently, upon removing her heavy robes of court, the Prosecutor begins the sentence.

Vip! Vip! Vip!

Remorselessly, and like clockwork, the Prosecutor slashes the cane into Abigail’s upthrust bum. Abigail clearly feels the effect, unladylike grunts and moans emitting from her throat as the cane does its work.

Vip! Vip!

For a while it almost seems as if Abigail is enjoying the experience. Her cries have an almost orgasmic quality to them, and the wet smear on the padded top of the punishment bench is testament to her excitement. By the third dozen, however, her cries turn to cries of pain. Her bottom, already criss-crossed with bright cane lines, begins to jerk and clench as her bum welts are crossed over and over with fresh strokes. Lacking even a shred of mercy, the Prosecutor whips her over these raised lines repeatedly, causing shrieks and begging to be interspersed with the Vip! of the cane.

At the final stroke, Abigail bursts into relived tears, and the Prosecutor nods to herself – a job well done. Polite applause accompanies this weeping defeat, the guests moderately satisfied with the outcome. There is an undercurrent of reservation, however. Like it or not you have overruled the decree of a guest with this extra-judicial punishment. Mr. Hamilton’s reputation is in tatters, even though justice has been served.

Gain 2 Fame points, but lose 1 Dignity point. You may also gain 3 Cruelty points for inflicting this harsh lashing to Abigail.

Turn to page 631.

Page 629

“Your request is denied, slave,” you snarl. “Mr. Hamilton may use you as he pleases, and it is not for you to dictate your own punishment. However, I do find you in contempt of this court for bringing this infantile matter to my attention. You shall receive two dozen strokes of the cane! I shall inflict them on you myself.”

There is a murmur of consensus from the court, and a grin from the Prosecutor. Alas, you also catch a flicker of a smile from Abigail. You will have to work hard to break this arrogant pony slut!

“Shall I have the girl brought to the punishment bench?” asks the Prosecutor.

“No, have her stand in the middle of the court,” you decree. “She shall take her strokes in Position Two, that is to say, bent over and touching toes. Naturally, she’ll take the cane on the bare bottom.”

“Naturally,” smiles the Prosecutor.

Abigail looks a little more nervous. Things aren’t going quite according to her plan. As far as you are concerned, that can only be good news. Soon she is bent right over, touching her toes comfortably, as any well trained slave girl should.

You tap the court rattan cane against her bottom firmly, so much that a slight blush appears in the middle of her spread bum cheeks. “You will remain in this exact position for each stroke,” you command imperially. “Any flinching, bending of knees, or removing your hands from your toes warrants an extra dozen strokes to your behind. Do you understand?”

Abigail pales at the strictness of your orders. “Yes … yes, your honour,” she murmurs.

You take a step back and raise your cane high, fixing her upthrust bum into the centre of your vision, before whistling the cane down, stepping in to maximise the impact of the first cut.

Vip! “Ah!” cries Abigail her bum clenching, her knees trembling slightly at the stroke, that immediately raises a scarlet line across her backside.

If your Ambition is 9 or more you spot the tiny buck in her knees. “You broke position!” you thunder. “A dozen extra strokes, as warned.” Abigail gasps, but is so intimidated she does not even try to object. Gain 1 Cruelty point, as you lash Abigail’s behind twelve terrible strokes.

Vip! Vip!

Abigail moans and grunts as you settle into her punishment. Soon her bum is entrenched with deep red tracks in straight lines, and her quivering cheeks begin to sweat with the effort of remaining so still under such fierce bombardment. At the eighth stroke, a cut to join between her thighs and buttocks, her fists clench tightly before she jabs her fingers back into her toes.

If your Ambition is 8 or more you spot this momentary weakness. “Hands must be touching toes – a dozen extra!” you decree. Abigail can only moan in despair as you thrash another twelve strokes into her trembling behind, accompanied by whoops of encouragement from the guests. Gain 1 Cruelty point.

Deep into her second dozen (or her ‘official’ second dozen at any rate), Abigail begins to wobble with the strain. The cane impacts juicily upon her bum, which twitches and clenches with agony at her searing punishment.

You cannot fail to spot this error. If you wish you may inflict another dozen strokes upon Abigail for this obvious breach, though you will need a cruel heart to do it. Gain 1 Cruelty point if you do this.

At the crescendo of your punishment, you whip short with your cane to ensure the very tip buries itself into Abigail’s gaping bumhole. The poor girl howls and collapses, sobbing to the ground. It is such a perfect end you don’t have the heart to punish her any further.

Gain 2 Cruelty points and 2 Fame Points. Also, gain 1 Dignity point, for you have struck a fine balance between punishing Abigail for her hubris and keeping the authority of the guests intact.

If you have the trait ‘Sadistic’ you may add one point to any attribute.

If you received 5 Cruelty points during this punishment you receive a standing ovation from the assembled guests. They have never witnessed a more ruthlessly executed caning from any mistress in the manor. Gain 2 more Fame Points and 1 point of Willpower.

Turn to page 631.

Page 630

“This situation is unsatisfactory in many ways,” you muse. “Clearly you are an arrogant slave girl, whose stubborn will has not even been ground down by pony training. Your complaints towards your thoughtful owner, Mr. Hamilton, bring shame upon you.”

Abigail droops her head – you have stung her deeply.

“And yet – if I punish you I reward you, because I give you what you want. If I do not, you make this court a mockery! And there is a matter of waste to consider. The waste of your potential. Clearly you are ambitious to win – just as clearly you must be punished for your hubris. Therefore, your sentence is this.”

The assembled guests lean forwards in anticipation. Abigail holds her breath.

“I shall reassign you to a new pony master, Mr. Sullivan, the man who trained me,” you say. “There you shall learn the meaning of shame and obedience. He shall strip you of your pride and hubris, and turn you into the victorious pony girl you seek to be. You shall suffer at his hands, no doubt, for he treats his ponies cruelly. But perhaps one day, when you cross that finish line, your legs and naked breasts aching, a hundred whip strokes across your backside, you shall have cause to thank me.”

Abigail goes pale at your sentence. Naturally she has heard of Mr. Sullivan – and has seen the broken, haunted wrecks that he makes of his pony girls. “Please, your honour,” trembles Abigail. “Might I be permitted to beg Mr. Hamilton’s forgiveness? If he takes me back, might I be allowed to stay with him?”

You laugh coldly at the now humble Abigail. “It will be good for your soul to beg,” you jeer. “Very well, you may, in private, beg Mr. Hamilton to take you back – although he is under no obligation to do so. But in any case, whether he agrees or not, I decree you serve at least a three month sentence with Mr. Sullivan, so you may appreciate how other pony masters treat their slaves. After that, if he is willing, you may crawl back to Mr. Hamilton. Otherwise, should he reject you, you shall serve Mr. Sullivan forever.”

Abigail is overcome with gratitude at your slight mercy. “Oh! Thank you, your honour!” she cries.

You turn to Mr. Hamilton. “Take my advice, Mr. Hamilton – make her beg.”

“Thank you, your honour,” grins Mr. Hamilton. “You may be assured I shall.”

At this, Mr. Hamilton turns to leave. Abigail, to the general mirth of the court, immediately drops onto all fours and crawls at his heels, her head bowed in submission.

Your clever solution gains you much prestige. Gain 3 Fame Points, and raise your Ambition by 1 point as well.

Turn to page 631.

Page 631

The next case begins with a good deal of commotion. Being dragged in by her ear by Mistress Odessa is a short, but fleshy slave girl, who whines in complaint at being so treated. You feel compelled to call for order, and have the Mistress and slave separated from each other.

“What’s the meaning of this?” you demand, upset at the ruckus in the court.

The Prosecutor steps forward, bundle of papers in her hands. “If it please the court, this is a last minute entry – Mistress Odessa brings this slave, Stephanie, to be tried and sentenced by the court.”

“What is the charge?” you ask.

The Prosecutor consults her papers briefly. “Damning her Mistress with faint praise at an art show, your honour.”

Mistress Odessa seethes at the slave girl, who visibly wilts before her.

Will you? Sentence the girl immediately? Turn to page 641.
Or probe deeper into the case? Turn to page 632.

Page 632

“Let us first establish the facts of the case, shall we?” you say pompously.

“We shall do no such thing!” cries Mistress Odessa hotly. “You’ve heard the charge, now sentence the girl. And be as cruel as you like, she’ll deserve every stroke.”

Stephanie bites her lip and glances to the floor guiltily.

Will you: Sentence Stephanie? Turn to page 641.
Charge Mistress Odessa with contempt of court? Turn to page 633.
Or insist that the details of the case be established before sentencing? Turn to page 635.

Page 633

“Mistress Odessa – you are in contempt!” you snap. “You are not in charge of this court – I am. I sentence you to a dozen lashes of the tawse upon your backside!”

There is a gasp in court. Not only is it unheard of to sentence a mistress – but Mistress Odessa of all people! A fuming bottle of anger, Mistress Odessa roars at you. “How dare you, you trumped up slave! We’ll see whose bottom ends up red and sore!”

At this she leaps at you, the court staff diving out of the way of the muscular mistress, not daring to intervene.

If you have the trait ‘Strong’ Turn to page 634.
If not, read on.

Mistress Odessa grabs you and pulls you out of your judges chair as if you were little more than a ragdoll. She then proceeds to spin you around, before throwing you over your desk, your bottom at right angles, facing the shocked guests. Securing your arms with one of hers, she tugs your leather trousers down and, armed with nothing more than her hand, proceeds to spank your bottom with her heavy hand.

Smack! Smack! Smack!

You wiggle and squeal in indignity – but there is no escaping Mistress Odessa’s tight grip. Your bottom is pounded red by the enraged mistress’s pummelling hand. A full ten minutes she keeps you bent over your desk, your arse bruising under her heavy slaps, the court room giggling at your loss of control and dignity.

Raise your Bum Status by 2 Levels and lose 3 points of Dignity.

Finally you are released, cringing and rubbing your bottom ruefully. Mistress Odessa, tired of these tedious court proceedings, simply storms out of the courtroom, dragging Stephanie out by the ear.

“Shall I … shall I note that the case was dismissed, your honour?” asks the court scribe as you clutch your sore cheeks in pain.

You scowl at her and return to your chair.

Turn to page 642.

Page 634

Mistress Odessa has underestimated you. As she moves to grab you from your chair you bat her arms away like matchsticks and swiftly pin her down onto the desk – a move you mastered after many minor tussles when you were a slave. Mistress Odessa squeals in complaint, but you hold her down firmly, calmly asking the Prosecutor to prepare the whipping bench.

Soon Mistress Odessa has been secured upon the bench, her sentence increased to three dozen strokes of the tawse on account of assault. Her red bum jiggles under the bombardment delivered by the Prosecutor, you watching lazily from your seat high above – feigning disinterest.

The guests are enchanted. Truly there has not been such entertainment in the court room for many years. Your physical prowess will be much talked about around and about the house.

Gain 2 Fame points, and 1 point of Ambition.

Still – there is the matter of the slave Stephanie’s misdemeanour to consider. Deciding to skip any further investigation you move quickly on to her sentence.

Turn to page 641.

Page 635

“Do try to have patience with the court, Mistress Odessa,” you sigh. “Now – how exactly did Stephanie here damn you with feint praise?”

Mistress Odessa looks indignant, but finally answers. “The manor’s art competition was held yesterday in the Great Hall. I entered a piece myself to stand alongside works by guests and other Mistresses. I happened to ask Stephanie, who was between pleasuring the guests, what she thought of my painting. She said it was, and I quote, ‘quite good’.”

A hiss rises up from the viewing gallery, and Stephanie cringes in shame.

“Seems an open and shut case to me,” smiles the Prosecutor. “Shall we move on to sentencing?”

Will you? Sentence Stephanie now? Turn to page 641.
Or probe deeper into the case? Turn to page 636.

Page 636

“I think it best,” you say after a moment’s reflection, “that I see the painting, since it is at the heart of this dispute.”

Mistress Odessa is outraged, stamping her foot so loudly the sound echoes through the court. “It is not at the heart of this dispute!” she thunders. “This lowly cockslave dared to offer a negative opinion! And to me! Me of all people! What kind of two-bit, run down court is this?”

Lose 1 Dignity point for this slur against your courtroom.

Will you: Charge Mistress Odessa with contempt of court? Turn to page 633.
Quickly sentence Stephanie before Mistress Odessa embarrasses you further? Turn to page 641.
Insist on seeing the painting? Turn to page 637.

Page 637

“I will not be deterred! Justice will be done!” you thunder, in such a loud voice that even Mistress Odessa looks taken aback. “Officer of the court – find Mistress Odessa’s painting and bring it to the courtroom.”

The Officer of the Court, little more than a slave in fancy clothing, bows quickly, and dashes from the courtroom to carry out your demand. Odessa grumbles at the Prosecutor, who looks distinctly embarrassed that this case is taking so long to process.

Some time later the Officer returns, heaving a large painting. It is brought towards your desk where you can examine it. The painting is a landscape, a wintry scene of the manor covered in snow, naked pony girls shivering in their nudity just visible in the background. The painting is certainly competent, but it lacks flair and imagination.

“Hmm,” you ponder aloud. “Having seen the painting, I now feel I can pass judgement upon this case.”

“Finally!” snaps Mistress Odessa irritably.

What is your sentence and verdict? Not Guilty. Stephanie was not lying when she said the painting was merely “quite good”. Turn to page 638.
Guilty. The painting is terrible, and Stephanie has lied to Mistress Odessa. Two dozen strokes of the split tawse, delivered by the Prosecutor. Turn to page 639.
Guilty. The painting is a masterpiece, and Stephanie was jealous of Mistress Odessa’s skill. Four dozen strokes of the split tawse, delivered by Mistress Odessa. Turn to page 640.
Guilty. The quality of the painting is irrelevant. Slaves must always enthusiastically support the mistresses. A dozen strokes of the split tawse, to be delivered in turn by every mistress who submitted a piece to the competition. Turn to page 641.

Page 638

“Not guilty,” you record, to the shocked cry of the guests, and the bewilderment of Stephanie. “Her opinion of the piece is quite correct. It is competent, by dry, lacking in any real vision or flair. You cannot say it is a bad piece – and yet it is hardly great. It is merely “quite good”, as Stephanie so excellently put it. To say anything else would be lying to a mistress. Case dismissed.”

Mistress Odessa’s angry response is so vile it has to be struck from records, but she leaves you in no doubt as to her opinion of your court, judgements, and even passes some rather bruising remarks about your sexual conduct. You are disturbed to hear many of her expressed views echoed by the guests in the viewing gallery.

“I think,” says the Prosecutor privately to you, “you may be missing the point of this court, your honour.”

Lose 2 Fame points and 2 points of Ambition.

Turn to page 642.

Page 639

“This piece is simply awful,” you say, shaking your head. “I understand that a slave might wish to save her backside from a few strokes, but to call this piece ‘quite good’ is a crime against art. Two dozen strokes of the split tawse on your backside, Stephanie, to be delivered by the Prosecutor.”

Stephanie tries to suppress a giggle as she is led past the outraged Mistress Odessa towards the punishment bench. She knew she was going to be beaten anyway, but at least has the satisfaction of her opinion being validated.

Snap! Snap!

The Prosecutor thrashes Stephanie confidently, the unwise girl squeaking through her set as her bum is lashed. Mistress Odessa, having been humiliated, leaves before the end of the set – too embarrassed even to see the slave who slighted her punished.

Your sly comments have amused the court and still seen justice done to Stephanie’s buttocks. Gain 2 Fame points and 1 point of Dignity.

Turn to page 642.

Page 640

“I now see why this slave stands before me,” you say gravely. “Stephanie, you have insulted a great artist, and a great artwork. ‘Quite good’ does not even begin to plumb the depths of this masterpiece … this … painted soul, so full of expression and wordless wonder. It is clear your own inadequacies came into play when you spitefully belittled Mistress Odessa’s work of passion. It is only appropriate, therefore, that you receive four dozen strokes of the split tawse upon your resentful bare behind, and that Mistress Odessa be the one to inflict them. If she is half the artist I think she is, she shall make a pretty picture of your thrashed bottom, that’s for sure.”

Mistress Odessa blushes with pride at your description. She is clearly delighted with your appraisal. The other guests do not seem as sure … but what the hell, they’re about to see a rueful slave girl punished – and isn’t that why they came here?

Stephanie, babbling apologies to Mistress Odessa and the court, willing bends herself over the punishment bench to receive her due, which is promptly, and vindictively, lashed into her arse by the proud Mistress Odessa.

Snap! Snap! Snap!

Poor Stephanie howls through her set, her bum painted a fierce red, to the genteel applause of the watching guests. Fully vindicated, Mistress Odessa completes her victorious revenge upon Stephanie with gusto, leaving the poor girl sobbing, bum blistered, by the end.

Gain 1 Fame point, and 2 points of Cruelty.

Turn to page 642.

Page 641

Fortunately there is established protocol for events such as these. “Giving faint praise is an unworthy act for a slave – who must always be enthusiastic about any task set by a mistress. You must understand, Stephanie, that we mistresses do not seek, nor do we care, for the opinion of a slave. I’m sure you knew this, but decided to be witty instead. Am I right?”

“Yes, your honour,” confesses Stephanie, head hanging in shame.

“A dozen strokes of the tawse then,” you say firmly. “Since Mistress Odessa obviously desires your punishment to be in public, I rule that it take place during next year’s competition. Each artist shall be entitled to deliver one stroke to your presented, naked buttocks. After that, Mistress Odessa shall deliver the final twelve strokes. Be warned – in future I shall not be so lenient.”

“Thank you, your honour,” murmurs Stephanie, as she is led from the dock.

Mistress Odessa approaches you. “Justice, I suppose,” she says. “But a bit lenient for my taste.”

You smile. “Ah! Well that depends on how many people you can get to submit works for next year’s show, doesn’t it? A high turnout will be good for the manor, and even better for Stephanie’s uppity backside, would you not agree?”

Mistress Odessa grins wickedly. “You are a wise woman, your honour,” she says. “I will endeavour to put on the biggest show the manor has ever seen!”

Gain 1 Fame point and 1 point of Cruelty.

Turn to page 642.

Page 642

A challenging case is brought before you next. A well endowed, blonde slave is marched up to the dock by two mistresses. You recognise one of her accusers. It is no less a figure than Miss. Rose herself! She is not one to use the court system lightly, so this case must be serious. The slave gazes ahead directly and does not move or flinch – she looks utterly unrepentant.

“If it please the court,” says the Prosecutor grimly, “the slave Natasha is charged with the crime of Rebellion, and also with attempting to foster rebellion amongst the slaves against the Master’s authority. Her accuser is Miss. Rose.”

“Rebellion!” you cry, the word seeming to stick in your mouth like a bad taste. “That is a serious accusation, Miss. Rose.”

“Yes, your honour,” says Miss. Rose stiffly. “I do not make such accusations lightly.”

Within you, you feel afraid to challenge Miss. Rose’s authority, so stern and respected a figure she is within the manor.

Will you? Immediately sentence Natasha? Turn to page 647.
Examine Miss. Rose’s testimony? Turn to page 644.
Examine the accused testimony? Turn to page 645.

Page 643

The girls are overwhelmingly grateful and agree readily. You now have access to a most private pleasure, and can add two points to your Submission and Willpower as you indulge in this guilty secret.

So not think, however, that rumour will not seep out about your corrupt and decadent behaviour. Lose 3 points of Ambition and 1 Fame Point.

Now Turn to page 507.

Page 644

“Miss. Rose,” you say, trying to stifle the nerves in your voice. “Given the exceptional nature of the accusations against this slave, I hope you will not object if I seek your testimony.”

Miss. Rose seems unphased. “Not at all, your honour. I quite expect you to be thorough.”

“Thank you,” you say, relived. “Can you tell me, specifically, what it is that Natasha has done?”

“Your honour,” says Miss. Rose clearly. “I have suspected Natasha’s disloyalty for some time. She is a relatively new slave, having just a few weeks ago imbibed the Master’s Essence. She was assigned to my department, in charge of cleaning the manor. I received reports from various spies within the department that she had been speaking disloyally of the Master. I granted permission for my spies to secretly record a meeting with Natasha on some kind of telephone recording device. During the meeting, Natasha suggested forming a mass gathering to overpower the mistresses of the house, and to kidnap the Master and use him for … I dare not say it … but suffice to say, the Master was to be made a servant in a new Slave Republic, organised under Natasha.”

There are howls and jeers of disapproval from the guests. “Shame! Shame!” comes the repeated cry from the viewing gallery, directed towards an emotionless Natasha.

Although feeling physically sick at these revelations, you realise you must enforce calm. “Order! Order!” you cry, banging your gavel hard until the court settles down.

“If you do not mind, Miss. Rose, we shall refrain from viewing this evidence directly,” you say, a court slave fanning your face to ease your distress. “Your word is obviously good enough for the court.”

“I quite understand, your honour – it is the most revolting thing I have ever witnessed,” says Miss. Rose gravely.

Your head swims. What can be done with such a vile criminal?

Will you? Sentence Natasha immediately? Turn to page 647.
Or question her about the rebellion? Turn to page 645.

Page 645

You turn to the stone faced Natasha. “Slave,” you say coolly. “Tell me – who else was involved in your pathetic rebellion?”

Natasha remains silent.

“Speak!” you demand. “Or you shall be held in contempt of this court!”

She turns to you, eyes narrowed. “I have nothing but contempt for this court!”

Further gasps of outrage echo from the viewing gallery. Lose 1 point of Dignity for being put down by this vile rebel.

You are being goaded by Natasha. Your blood boils.

Will you? Sentence her at once? Turn to page 647.
Or, if you have the codeword AGENT, attempt to trick her? Turn to page 646.

Page 646

“I am too angry to sentence you now!” you feign. “We shall call a recess. Have Natasha locked in the Prosecutor’s cloister whilst I consider my verdict.”

You rise, causing the entire courtroom to do the same. “Yes, your honour!” cries the Prosecutor, leading Natasha away, assisted by the two mistresses who brought her in.

You return to your chambers, where you have Candy, your personal slave, summoned to attend you. Candy enters the chambers, obediently dropping to all fours when she sees you, scurrying over to lick your heals enthusiastically, as is her tradition. You allow her to do this for a while to calm her down, smoothing your hand over her recently beaten behind (Candy is beaten nightly by you, a dozen strokes with the tawse or cane – it’s the only way to curb her excessive eagerness).

Eventually you allow her to rise and explain the situation to her. Candy is almost sick when you speak of Natasha’s rebellion – and is horrified when she hears what you are asking of her.

“You want me to pretend I’m a rebel, so I can get the names of Natasha’s accomplices?” she says aghast. “Oh, miss! Please – anything but that. How could I ever say bad things about the Master?”

“This is very important, Candy – I can’t trust anyone else with it, besides,” you stand to your full height above the kneeling girl, “it’s an order. You must obey me as you do the Master.”

Candy whimpers, but nods in acceptance.

“Don’t worry,” you say. “You are following orders. You shan’t be punished for anything you say about the Master…”

Candy looks up at you earnestly. “Oh, miss! But I must be!” she begs. “Oh, please! Promise me you’ll punish me properly. I couldn’t live with myself otherwise.”

You sign in frustration, but concede. “Very well, Candy, you shall be harshly punished – but you must get me the names of those conspirators! It’s very important!”

Dressed as a kitchen slave, Candy is sent into the room where Natasha is imprisoned carrying bread and water. For several hours you wait, growing increasingly impatient, as Candy and Natasha conspire. Eventually Candy emerges from the room, shaking and pale.

“Oh dear,” she says, trembling, “I think you’ll have to punish me very harshly mistress … I said some awful things.”

“Never mind that,” you snap. “Names?”

“Only one,” she says. “All the other slaves rejected her. Only Laura, in the cleaning department, supported her idea about … about … oh, miss!” Candy collapses into sobs, and you are unable to resist cuddling your little soldier as she weeps on your shoulder. She must have said some ghastly things indeed!

This matter is too serious for the court – any possibility of rebellion must be contained. Crawling to the Master’s chambers on all fours, you beg admittance to his chambers, apologising profusely for interrupting him.

When the Master hears your news, however, her stirs into action. Natasha and Laura are brought before him. There, the previously stony Natasha falls to her knees and begs his forgiveness, explaining that she only sought his attention with her rebellion, and earnestly wishes to serve only him.

“So you shall,” growls the Master furiously. “But not, perhaps, in the way you desired. You shall be assigned to the punishment chambers, a place where I refine new experimental punishments for disobedient slaves such as yourself. Never again shall you experience the sensation of an unwhipped arse!”

Natasha earnestly thanks the Master, and is escorted away to face her eternity of punishment.

Laura, however, is unrepentant. “Master – I wish to leave your service,” she says, desperate to escape Natasha’s fate. “I can no longer serve you as a slave, and since you will not have me as a mistress, I must be gone from your grace and protection.”

The Master sneers at Laura’s weakness. “You too, shall have your wish. From this day forth your are exiled from the manor, never to return. Your immortality of service is at an end. You shall return from whence you came and live a mortal life, never to find the manor again.”

Tears leak from Laura’s eyes, but she nods in acceptance. “Thank you, Master,” she chokes, before being escorted out by the Steward.

The Master turns to you, a dark smile crossing his face. “Once again you have served me well. You continue to impress me, mistress.”

“Thank you, my Master,” you bow, swelled with pride.

Gain 5 Fame points for uprooting this wicked conspiracy, and add one point to any attribute.

Turn to page 651.

Page 647

Faced with such bare faced treachery, it is difficult to even imagine a suitable punishment for Natasha. And yet you must try.

What is your sentence? Banishment. You cannot abide to have this filthy rebel in your presence! Turn to page 648.
Turn her over to the Master. The court is not adequately suited to dealing with such a monstrous creature as Natasha. Turn to page 649.
Perhaps this creature can still be saved … with sufficient motivation. Four dozen strokes of the cane tonight, and every night for the next two weeks, after which she must renew her oath of allegiance to the Master. Turn to page 650.

Page 648

Reaching for your black cap you gaze at Natasha unflinchingly. “The purpose of a slave is to serve. Since you have no intention of doing so, you have no place within this manor. Therefore you shall be taken from this place and cast out into the real word to live a mortal life. Perhaps there you can slake your unreasonable ambitions. Here, you are not wanted.”

There is a great cheer from the viewing gallery. But the look that Natasha gives you haunts you all your life. Her empty eyes leak a single tear that runs glistening down her pale cheek.

You realise, as Natasha is escorted out, that banishment was not what she sought. Why exactly she plotted her half-witted rebellion you never find out. But that terrible gaze, that look of despair, echoes in your minds eye for the rest of eternity.

Gain 2 Fame points, but lose three points of Willpower.

Turn to page 651.

Page 649

You clear your throat as you look upon the vile Natasha. “This court, Natasha, was set up, like all other apparatus within this manor, for the pleasure of the guests. Slaves are charged with crimes and their punishment meted out. You, Natasha, have brought no pleasure to the guests in the viewing gallery. My authority is absolute, and yet such a serious crime as rebellion – treason, even – darkens the nature of this court of pleasure. I cannot sentence one such as you. Your fate shall be decided by the Master, the final court of appeal and Justice. And do not expect, Natasha, that he will look favourably upon you. This case is concluded.”

There is a low murmur of approval from the viewing guests. You feel you have done the right thing. Your role of Mistress is more important than your role of judge.

Natasha is taken away to her fate with the Master. She is never seen again. Many believe that the Master simply banished her from the manor. Others claim that they have heard Natasha’s cries emerge from the Forbidden Tower on dark moonlit nights. You shudder – for the Master’s justice is far harsher than your own.

Gain 1 Fame point.

Turn to page 651.

Page 650

“Your sort,” you spit at Natasha, “sicken and repulse me. Why do you stay if you do not wish to serve the Master? Any slave may leave the manor, provided they have no intention of ever returning. The fact that you have stayed tells me that somewhere within your dark and treasonous heart you wish to stay. As a mistress, as well as a judge, it is therefore my duty to help you submit properly to the Master’s authority. You shall, under Miss. Rose’s care, receive four dozen strokes of the cane each night for the next fortnight, not including any additional punishments you might earn. At the end of this period of reflection, you shall again be brought to the Master to repeat your oath of submission. From there he may decide your fate. This case is concluded.”

There is considerable grumbling from the gallery. The consensus is you have been far too lenient.

“You’ll never break me, mistresses!” cries Natasha rebelliously.

“We’ll see,” snarls Miss. Rose, calling for chains to secure the fiery Natasha.

Lose 2 Fame points and gain 4 Cruelty points. Your compromise has satisfied no one, and rebellion may yet thrive in the filthy mass of slaves that serve you.

Turn to page 651.

Page 651

In contrast to the grim seriousness of the previous case, this next matter is much lighter and more pleasant. A quiet, obedient looking slave girl, Linda, is brought to the dock by a stern faced young lady in a Victorian frock. She bows politely to you and the Prosecutor as she presents the notes of the case, written in a florid hand.

“If it pleases the court,” intones the Prosecutor. “This cleaning slave, Linda, is charged with breaking a valuable clock of the accuser, Miss. Clearwater, a guest of long standing and excellent reputation.”

“I am so sorry to trouble you with this tiny matter, your honour,” says Miss. Clearwater, unwittingly breaching protocol with her addressing of you. “But this is the fifth thing this clumsy girl has broken. I’ve tried whipping her, but I just can’t get her to be more careful. I would be so grateful if the court could teach her the lesson I seem unable to do.”

You nod in understanding, willing to let this minor breach of manners pass.

Will you? Sentence Linda immediately? Turn to page 657.
Try to establish the facts of the case? Turn to page 652.

Page 652

“Miss. Clearwater – I wonder if you will indulge me,” you say politely. “I would like to gather the facts of the case before sentencing.”

“The facts?” Miss. Clearwater laughs musically. “Why, your honour, you have already heard the facts. This clumsy girl broke my clock while cleaning. I want her punished for it.”

She laughs again, and the court laughs with her. Somehow the effect is unsettling, as if Miss. Clearwater has made a fool of you. Lose 1 Dignity point.

“Respectfully – if you could describe the circumstances of this incident?” you press.

“Oh, very well,” sighs Miss. Clearwater. “The facts are these. I was taking breakfast in my chambers. Linda was cleaning the mantelpiece. I asked her for some marmalade for my toast, and the girl very kindly went to the kitchen to fetch it. Realising I had forgotten my glasses – it is my way to read a good book during breakfast, your honour – I briefly left to recover them from my bedroom. Whilst gathering them from the bedside table I heard a smashing sound. Alas, upon returning I saw Linda standing shame facedly next to the broken clock, jar of marmalade in hand. It was the final straw, since she had already broken five other items in my quarters on previous occasions.”

Miss. Clearwater pauses for a few moments before continuing. “I believe in firm discipline, your honour – when a girl does something wrong she should receive a good thrashing, and take it thankfully. I have no complaint to make about Linda’s conduct, you understand. On each occasion of her wrong doing she has taken the cane stoutly and without complaint. And yet I fear she has never really learned the lesson the cane should have taught her – namely to be less clumsy!”

Linda looks nervous. She keeps her eyes cast to the ground respectfully.

Will you? Sentence Linda? Turn to page 657.
Or will you probe deeper into the case? Turn to page 653.

Page 653

You lean back in your chair. “Something is not right here,” you say thoughtfully. “I think I’ll have to interview the accused.”

Miss. Clearwater’s expression changes to a look of cold disapproval. “Surely,” she says icily, “you will not do me such a dishonour? I have already explained quite clearly what has happened.”

The Prosecutor rolls her eyes in despair - you are at it again! Lose 1 Dignity point for implying a guest has lied.

Will you? Quickly sentence Linda to avoid any further embarrassment? Turn to page 657.
Or insist on interviewing Linda? Turn to page 654.

Page 654

“Pardon me, Miss. Clearwater,” you say through gritted teeth. “But court procedure must take precedence. Now, Linda, look at me, girl.”

Linda looks up between her dark, long locks. She smiles nervously, and brushes a few stray strands away from her eyes.

“Linda, did you break that clock?” you ask.

“Err … well,” mumbles Linda. “Miss. Clearwater says I did, so I must have done.”

“I am asking you, Linda, did you break that clock?” you insist.

Linda glances at Miss. Clearwater, who gives Linda a savage glare. “The thing is … I’m probably the only one who could have done it. I don’t mind being punished for it, really!”

“How good spirited of you, girl,” interjects Miss. Clearwater kindly. “If only the judge was able to accept matters with such grace!”

Another laugh from the viewing gallery. You are being made a laughing stock. Lose 1 point of Dignity and Ambition.

The Prosecutor steps in, flushed with embarrassment. “Perhaps, your honour, now the girl has confessed, it is time to consider sentence?”

Will you? Now sentence Linda? Turn to page 657.
Or continue to dig deeper into this case? Turn to page 655.

Page 655

You turn angrily to the Prosecutor. “But she has not confessed, merely implied!”

The Prosecutor shakes her head. “It’s the same thing…”

“It is not the same thing!” you snap, your voice reaching a high pitch. “Why would Linda be keen to accept punishment even though she is not willing to confess to the crime? Something is very wrong here, and I intend to find out what it is.”

The Prosecutor, red faced, and at her wits end finally loses her temper. “What is it with you?” she screams. “Why do you have to ask so many questions? You’re an embarrassment to that chair! Guests come here to amuse themselves, to watch their slaves be humiliated and thrashed. That’s our job! But that’s not good enough for Miss Hoity-toity New Girl is it? Get over yourself! Do your job! This court is about punishment!”

The laughter of the guests rings in your ears – they haven’t had such fun in years! Your reputation stands in tatters. Lose 2 Dignity points.

Will you? Sentence the girl, before you are thrown out of court? Turn to page 657.
Or dig your heels in? Turn to page 656.

Page 656

“It is about justice!” you roar in such a tone the whole court room falls silent. “I am a mistress of this house and I will not be lied to, even in sport!”

You turn angrily to Linda. “You, slave, did you break that clock?”

“No, miss,” whimpers Linda, terrified.

“Of course you didn’t,” you sneer. “Because you were holding a marmalade jar in your hand at the time. And no matter how bad a cleaning maid you might be, not even you would clean a mantelpiece whilst holding a jar of marmalade. Did you break anything of Miss. Clearwater’s? Ever?”

“No, miss,” she confesses.

“Who did break Miss. Clearwater’s clock?” you demand.

A pause – before the inevitable reply: “Miss. Clearwater did,” confesses Linda at last, tears pouring down her face. “She did it in front of my face, like she did with the other things. Then she told me I had to be punished for it.”

A cool silence fills the court room, Miss. Clearwater shuffles on her feet slightly. “Just, umm, just a little game I like to play,” she laughs with embarrassment. “Slaves find it harder to hold position if they are being beaten unfairly. It adds to their distress. It amuses me.”

You gaze upon Miss. Clearwater with a venomous glare. “Miss. Clearwater,” you say, licking your lips. “You told me earlier that you believed that ‘when a girl does something wrong she should receive a good thrashing, and take it thankfully’. Do you still believe that, Miss. Clearwater?”

Miss. Clearwater glances at her feet before replying. “Yes,” she says, almost with a whisper. “Yes, I still believe that.”

“How many strokes of the cane have you given Linda for her past ‘misdemeanours’?” you ask.

“Four dozen, your honour,” she replies at last.

“Then that is the number you shall receive from my hand, Miss. Clearwater – kindly place yourself over the punishment bench, and bare yourself for the cane,” you instruct.

There is another moments pause. As a guest Miss. Clearwater need do no such thing. Indeed, it would be quite within her rights to command that you bend over the punishment bench and take four dozen strokes of her cane. But she does not do this. Filled with shame, Miss. Clearwater slowly walks towards the punishment bench, trembling as she goes. Almost in slow motion, she folds herself over the bar. A few moments later she takes her skirt and gently pulls it over bottom, to reveal her bum, clad in tight, frilly knickers, upthrust and ready for the cane.

You are presented with the court rattan from a nervous court slave, and confidently climb down from your chair, passing your court robes to the slave in exchange for the weapon. Moving behind Miss. Clearwater you tap her knicker clad buttocks with the cane.

“I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you to remove those, Miss. Clearwater,” you say boldly. “All beatings are bare bum in the Master’s manor.”

“Oh, please … must I?” she begs, fearing for her dignity.

“I’m afraid so – knickers down, please,” you say firmly.

With shaking hands, Miss. Clearwater reaches for her white knickers, her thumbs pushing under the elastic. She freezes in place for a few moments, until she finally plucks up the courage to tug them down, revealing her beautiful, pristine buttocks, full and trembling, ready for the cane.

“If I may suggest, grip onto the lower bar with your hands, Miss. Clearwater,” you say. “It will reduce the temptation to grasp your buttocks in pain when the cane lashes them. If you do so, I will be required to award half a dozen extra strokes as a penalty. Do you understand?”

“Yes … yes, your honour,” warbles Miss. Clearwater, taking your advice and gripping onto the lower bar with white knuckled hands.

You nod, measure the cane across the unblemished buttocks, swing your arm back, and slice the cane tightly into her centre bottom.

Vip!

Miss. Clearwater gives a great howl as the cane impacts into her fleshy bottom. Her bum seems to almost absorb the cane for a moment, before spitting it out again, leaving a sharp, red line across the very centre. The poor guest reels, and bounces her bum up and down in a vain attempt to dispel the pain. You allow her to perform this ridiculous dance for a full minute, before striking again.

Vip!

“Uhh!” grunts Miss. Clearwater, a second line blazing above the first, her virgin buttocks squirming in the fiery pain. Having never been caned before, only enjoying inflicting the sensation on others, Miss. Clearwater suffers visibly from the stinging ache.

Vip!

You beat Miss. Clearwater for a full half hour. She is unable to keep her hands off her bottom, and you are compelled to award her more than two dozen strokes in penalty, which she takes with great wails. The beating is trying for her, yet she accepts it – for she now realises the scale of the injustice she inflicted upon her slave, Linda, and is keen to atone for it.

And atone she does, her backside now a swarm of long, horizontal red lines. At the conclusion of the long session, a firm round of applause echoes through the court room. It seems that the viewing guests have developed a taste for your brand of justice, executed so perfectly by your fair hand.

Gain 5 Dignity points, 3 Fame points and 3 Cruelty points.

If you have the trait ‘Sadistic’, add 1 to any attribute.

Miss. Clearwater is helped from the punishment bench by court slaves, who intend to escort her back to her quarters. Instead she insists on remaining so she can address you.

“Your sentence is complete, Miss. Clearwater, you may go,” you tell her kindly.

“Please, your honour – I must ask your help,” says Miss. Clearwater earnestly. “I realise now I have lived a most selfish and indulgent life. I wish to serve the Master, as you do, so I may atone for my past and live better.”

You are taken aback – but privately flattered. “It is a hard life, Miss. Clearwater, but I would not change it for the world,” you reply. “If you wish to serve the Master I suggest you visit the manor’s kitchen. There, find Mrs. Kent, remove your clothes, and renounce your position as guest. Mrs. Kent will dress, feed, humble and beat you until the Master is ready to hear your Oath of Submission. But take my advice, Miss. Clearwater – let your backside heal a bit first? Mrs. Kent won’t take pity on you, regardless of your condition.”

Miss. Clearwater nods firmly. “Thank you, your honour, I shall do it.”

You watch Miss. Clearwater waddle out of the chamber, hands pressed to her searing buttocks. The Prosecutor, Miss. Hatchet, approaches you, also shame faced. “I suppose, your honour,” she says cautiously, “that I too deserve punishment for the way I acted. Forgive me – I did not see the case as clearly as you did.”

“Well,” you say, smiling. “We’ll say a dozen strokes of the strap a night for the next week – that should sharpen your perspective. But, Miss Hatchet, please don’t feel you can’t argue with me. I need someone to keep me sharp, too.”

“Very good, your honour,” trembles the Prosecutor, considering the nights of misery that await her.

There will be no more cases for a while. You may not choose the option of ‘Attend to your duties as a mistress’ again.

Turn to page 507.

Page 657

What sentence is appropriate for Linda? Not Guilty. You don’t think she broke the clock at all! Turn to page 658.
Guilty. Two dozen strokes of the cane delivered by Miss. Clearwater. Turn to page 659.
Guilty. Three dozen strokes of the cane also delivered by the Prosecutor. Turn to page 660.
Guilty. Two dozen strokes from her immediate Mistress Superior, Miss. Rose. Also, two dozen strokes from Miss. Rose for each additional misdemeanour, until Linda stops breaking things! Turn to page 661.

Page 658

“Not guilty,” you announce to the amazement of the court. “From the evidence I’ve heard, I am unconvinced Linda did break that clock. Case dismissed!”

There is a cry of outrage from the dock. The guests are extremely angry at this ruling – it is an affront to their right to punish slave girls. Miss. Clearwater simply turns on her heel and leaves, an apologetic Linda following her from court.

You stick by your decision, but are horrified to receive a letter from the Supreme Mistress the very next day.

Your Honour,

I have spoken with the Master about your latest ruling. He feels that you might be better suited to less demanding work in future. While we consider a new role for you, try to relax and reacquaint yourself with the traditions of the house so you might better serve the Master in future.

Hoping you are well, Mistress Jessica

You are devastated! Your reputation will surely never recover!

Lose 10 Fame points, and three points of Ambition, Dignity and Willpower.

You may not choose the option ‘Attend to your duties as a mistress’ again.

Turn to page 507.

Page 659

Miss. Clearwater looks delighted with the ruling. “Thank you, your honour,” she says, curtsying slightly.

Linda presents herself over the punishment bench without complaint. You cannot help noticing, as Miss. Clearwater measures her thin cane against her, that Linda’s backside is already covered with deep track marks from previous canings. It would seem that the breakages Miss. Clearwater spoke of happened in a very short space of time…

Vip! Vip! Vip!

Miss. Clearwater, a broad smile across her face, thrashes the poor slave her decreed strokes to the hearty encouragement of the guests viewing above. Linda, never one to complain, takes her strokes stoically, though with obvious difficulty, as her old welts are crossed over with new ones.

Vip! Vip!

Finally, her sentence complete, Linda is commanded to rise by the well bred Miss. Clearwater. Red faced and trying not to cry, Linda thanks Miss. Clearwater for her strokes.

Another case nicely wrapped up! Gain 1 Fame point and 1 Cruelty point.

There will be no more cases for a while. You may not choose the option of ‘Attend to your duties as a mistress’ again.

Turn to page 507.

Page 660

“Linda,” you say haughtily to the girl in the dock. “It seems inconceivable that you have become so accident prone – and yet here you are. I believe you have developed some sort of crush on Miss. Clearwater, and are seeking attention from her any way you can. Damaging her property is not the way to do it, however! Rather than Miss. Clearwater, Miss. Hatchet, the Prosecutor, shall carry out a sentence of three dozen strokes of the cane upon your backside. Perhaps then you shall realise the foolishness of your vandalism.”

“Yes, your honour, thank you, your honour,” says Linda, carefully keeping her gaze low.

Miss. Clearwater sighs ruefully and says to the Prosecutor. “Truly, I wish no suffering upon the poor dear – but lessons must be learned and learned well.”

The Prosecutor laughs. “She’ll learn this lesson well, I promise you.”

Linda presents herself over the punishment bench without complaint. You cannot help noticing, as Miss. Hatchet measures her gnarled rattan cane against her, that Linda’s backside is already covered with deep track marks from previous canings. It would seem that the breakages Miss. Clearwater spoke of happened in a very short space of time…

Vip! Vip! Vip!

The following beating makes you wince in sympathy. Miss. Hatchet cruelly slashes the cane across Linda’s old welts, making the girl buck and whimper, the cutting Vip! seeming to split the air with its passage. Miss. Clearwater nods appreciatively as she sees Linda’s arse squirm and wriggle. “I only wish I could have taught the girl such a thorough lesson – this is very humbling for me,” she smiles.

Vip! Vip! Vip!

Linda’s clear cries of agony tug at your heartstrings, though not once does the girl beg for mercy. Miss. Hatchet awards a few extras for kicking and excessive clenching of her seared bum cheeks, but otherwise Linda takes her beating with surprising, if damp eyed, fortitude.

At the end of the beating the guests give a hearty cheer, none louder than Miss. Clearwater. “Bravo, madam! Well whipped! That will teach the clumsy maid a lesson!”

Linda is made to rise, before thanking Miss. Clearwater for taking the trouble to try her. “Nonsense, my dear, I enjoyed every moment!” enthuses Miss. Clearwater to poor Linda. “In fact, I think I’ve picked up a few tips! Next time you break something you had better watch out, my girl. Your bum’s in for a sizzling.”

You grin. Justice has been done. Gain 1 Fame point and 2 Cruelty points.

There will be no more cases for a while. You may not choose the option of ‘Attend to your duties as a mistress’ again.

Turn to page 507.

Page 661

“This constant clumsiness needs to be closely monitored,” you say wisely. “Linda – you will report to Miss. Rose tomorrow for a caning of two dozen strokes. Hopefully that will cure your slovenliness. If it does not perhaps this will. Miss. Clearwater – I would ask you, from now on, to report all your dissatisfactions with Linda directly to Miss. Rose, who will punish her two dozen strokes of the cane for every infraction. Eventually, even Linda should start paying attention and act more considerately and carefully whilst cleaning. This case is concluded.”

Linda seems to sag under the weight of this sentence, looking nervously towards Miss. Clearwater, who appears delighted.

“An excellent ruling!” grins Miss. Clearwater. “I understand Miss. Rose is awfully fierce. Your bum will be in ribbons by the time she’s finished. And just imagine … anything … any infraction and I can get you to go back to get two dozen more! Delightful. Oh, my dear! You’re bum will get so sore, I’ll be able to fry eggs on it!”

The guests are pleased with this sentence – but unknown to you you have been unusually harsh. Miss. Clearwater will not use her new powers fairly, and Linda is due for many months, even years of intense torment, before Miss. Clearwater tires of her fun.

Gain 2 Fame points and 4 Cruelty points.

There will be no more cases for a while. You may not choose the option of ‘Attend to your duties as a mistress’ again.

Turn to page 507.

Page 662

One day, after many years of careful consideration, you decide that you are happy with your lot. At your beck and call are slaves compelled to service your every need, no matter how base or humiliating. You are almost immune to receiving punishment, and yet you can punish a slave any time you want for the smallest infraction! The pleasure you get from thrashing their lazy, obsequious behinds is indescribable. To risk is all by conspiring against Mistress Jessica is madness. She is a master politician, and in any case the Master adores her and merely respects you.

But how, long term, will you fare as a mistress?

If your Cruelty is 10 or less, Turn to page 663.
If your Cruelty is between 11 or more, Turn to page 664.

Page 663

One morning you are awoken by a sharp knock at the door to your chamber. You have only just put your bathrobes on when the Steward enters, along with several burly looking male guests. In their hands they carry chains.

“What’s the meaning of this?” you demand angrily.

“Begging your pardon, mistress, this letter from the Master will explain everything,” says the Steward, offering the rolled up scroll, waxed with the Master’s seal, for your inspection.

Trembling you break the seal and read the contents. It says simply this.

Obey the Stewards instructions.

The Master

You return the letter with a shaking hand to the Steward. He nods. “Remove your gown – the Master wishes you naked for what follows.”

You must obey him, and you shamefully strip before the goggling eyes of the guests. It is almost like being a slave again! This impression is reinforced when the Steward authorises your hands to be manacled behind your back, a chain hobble to be secured to your ankles, and a large steel collar secured around your neck.

The Steward inspects your restraints briefly to make sure they are secure before striking your left breast roughly with his hand. “You will march with your back straight and breasts pushed out!”

You immediately thrust your breasts forward as decreed. The steward grasps the chain attached to your collar and pulls you from your chamber. You are marched down the stairs and through the Great Hall, where guests, taking their pleasure of the slaves gawp in amazement to see you led forth in chains. You flush with shame. Truly the Master is testing you!

Eventually you are marched out of the hall, through the lobby and out of the manor onto the main road. The day is scorching hot, and the sun beats down upon your naked flesh mercilessly. A small group of well tanned, rugged looking men, armed with whips stand in the driveway. You have never seen them in the manor before. Also before you, three other lesser mistresses, comparatively new to the role like yourself, are also standing, manacled, secured and naked. Their collars have been attached to a long steel pole, forcing all three to stand in a line. They all have one thing in common … they are considered rather wet, somewhat liberal mistresses.

You are taken to the pole, and soon you have been secured with the other naked mistresses. The Steward marches up and down the line, striking the buttocks of any mistress that slouches, or who does not push her breasts firmly out.

After about half an hour, any talking punished with a powerful stroke to your buttocks, you hear footsteps crunching along the gravel driveway behind you. Walking past you, his bevy of cockslaves in tow, comes the Master, looking grave and determined. When he is about twenty feet in front of the line, he snaps his fingers. Immediately his topless cockslaves fall onto their hands and knees, crouching. Stepping up upon the backs of two crouching slaves, so he towers above you, the Master speaks.

“A few nights ago I was warned by the Supreme Mistress that a large scale slave rebellion was in the planning. The rebellion shall be crushed. However, I have decided that I cannot risk having weak willed mistresses in the manor who are afraid of keeping order amongst the slaves. I shall not accuse you of treachery; however, it is clear that some mistresses have supported the rebellion, either through inaction or direct action.”

“You are here,” he continues darkly, “because you have shown a reluctance to thoroughly punish slaves … a keenness, in fact, to avoid giving them the punishment they are due. Consequently, a suspicion has fallen that any one of you could be part of the coming rebellion. To the guilty I offer my scorn. To the innocent, my condolences. None the less, firm action is required.”

“Since it would be unfair to cast you back into the mortal world, I have opted instead to sell you to another manor, much like mine, in a far away land. Life will be very different there – there are no mistresses there, for instance, but many Masters. Naturally this means you shall be serving as slaves to these worthy men. I ask that you serve them loyally, without promise of reward, for the rest of your days.”

“I now leave you in the hands of Danglesh, the Slave Master, who will encourage your departure to the distant land I spoke of. Serve him well.”

At this the Master steps down and strolls back into the manor, his cockslaves scrabbling to follow him. There is a sharp crack of the whip, and a blazing pain in your backside, as Danglesh ‘encourages’ you forwards.

“Onwards, sluts!” he laughs. “It’s a long way to your new home! A long way! But I’ll get you there, don’t you worry. I’ll get you there!”

And so, all in a line, you march forwards, tears streaming down your cheeks. The Master has abandoned you, a life of eternal slavery lies ahead of you, and in the present there is the clinking of manacles, the weeping of discarded mistresses, and the terrible sting of the whip!

Your adventure ends here.

Page 664

You are a model mistress. Neither too harsh, nor too kind – whimsical, but fair, your slaves know where they stand (beneath you) and your fellow mistresses trust your judgement.

As the years pass you become increasingly famous, as common on the lips of guests as Miss. Rose and Mistress Jessica, and your opinion carries weight. A small entourage of slaves, young mistresses and love struck guests follow in your wake wherever you go – hoping that some of your class, cleverness and sheer magnetism will rub off on them.

But through all of it your actions are guided only by one thing. Service to the Master. You crush rebellions in his name, you nurture up and coming slave girls that seem to please him, and otherwise live for the moments when the Master graces you with his eyes, hands … or anything else.

You will, however, always remain in the shadow of Mistress Jessica, whom you admire almost as much as the Master. Indeed, even in those rare years when the Master is replaced, she remains on top of the tree, whilst you devote yourself to whomever sits on the throne.

This life of pleasure and service lasts forever, indeed until the end of time, which still, even many, many years later, shows no sign of ending any time soon.

Your adventure ends here…

Page 665

Perhaps it was inevitable that you would one day push it too far? Your joy at the suffering of slaves is unmatched – how you love to watch them weep and wriggle under the cane! How you enjoy dooming them to constant, impossible to avoid punishments that torment their very soul!

When you pass slaves drop to their knees and beg for mercy, just in case you are in the mood for another of one of your spontaneous punishment beatings. You lay traps for unwitting, good natured slaves that can be days in the making, before ensnaring them in a crime they could not avoid committing. Then they are soundly flogged, caned, whipped, until sobbing – their poor spirits broken like spent chaff.

One day, however, whilst overseeing the beating of twenty slaves for daring to ‘look useless’, you are summoned to the Master. He has tired of your too cruel ways.

“The slaves are beginning to desert,” he informs you. “They have been pushed beyond all decency. Without them, the manor shall crumble and all will be lost. Therefore it is you who must be sacrificed for the greater good!”

“Oh, Master! Please forgive me! I can change…” you quail.

You collapse into sobs as the Master summons the steward to take you away.

Your adventure ends here…

Page 666

Becoming Supreme Mistress is all a question of timing. Mistress Jessica herself became mistress when the former Supreme was found sleeping with a Master from another house. From this confusion and scandal she seized power – then never gave it back.

She’s up to her old tricks again. Rumours of a slave rebellion in the planning are circulating the manor. Graffiti has been found ‘Down with the Master’ sprayed across numerous walls of the manor. Punishment beatings amongst the slaves have increased, and rumours that the weapons in the old armoury have been stolen continue to persist. And yet you can find no evidence of any treachery. The slaves seem as loyal as ever, and baffled as to where the thefts and desecrations have originated from. Mistress Jessica has organised a large scale meeting in the Great Hall. All the important guests and mistresses, even the Master, will be in attendance to discuss ways of crushing the rebellion.

The other mistresses are as confused as you. Only Mistress Jessica seems to know what is going on. Now is the time to play your hand.

The Great Hall is packed this evening. Nearly every guest in the house has abandoned their pleasure to come to the conference. Mistresses line the walls like dark soldiers. The Master sits proudly upon his throne, his cockslaves kneeling silently by him. Even they know that this is not the time for idle pleasure, or to disrupt the Master’s concentration.

Mistress Jessica is in bullish form. She has already publicly berated several mistresses for their failures to intercept the rebellion. Anxiety amongst the guests is at an all time high, and they look fearfully towards the doors as if armed slaves could emerge at any moment.

“My Master,” declares Mistress Jessica. “I implore you, banish one tenth of the slaves back to the real world. Let them know you mean business, before this matter gets out of hand!”

The Master looks outraged. “Impossible! That would be a betrayal of the slaves – the Master is their protection. A slave must not be banished unless they have committed a capital crime!”

“Your duty is the safety of this manor!” shouts Mistress Jessica. “You’ve indulged the slaves for too long! They have become power hungry! I am your strongest supporter – you must act. If you will not, we must find someone who can!”

The Master seems appalled by Mistress Jessica’s aggressive behaviour, but he is on the back foot. A roar of approval comes from the guests, and, to your amazement, many mistresses too! The Master is struggling. Now is the time.

You step forwards into the centre of the hall and clear your throat.

If you have 50 or more Fame points, Turn to page 668.
If you have 49 or fewer Fame points, Turn to page 667.

Page 667

You begin to speak … but to your eternal shame you are not heard. The noise in the hall is too great, and sadly, no one marks you as you step into the hall. You are just not important enough.

Alas, your ambition has exceeded your fame. Not enough people know of you in the manor to care about your opinions in this time of crisis. Feeling vulnerable and exposed, you quickly step back into line with the rest of the mistresses.

What happens next seems to occur in a blur. The Master is overthrown. A new Master, Geoffrey the Exiled is installed, and crushes the slave rebellion in its infancy. Blaming an excess of what he calls the ‘former Master’s slave mistresses’ for the rebellion, you and many others are stripped of your rank and cast back into the kitchens.

There you serve as a lowly kitchen slut until the end of your days. For although the guests did not notice you, Mistress Jessica did. She has long suspected your ambitions. Now they have been crushed. Forever.

Your adventure ends here…

Page 668

As you step forward the hall goes silent – you are a mistress of great importance, and your words carry weight. You may now address the assembly … but what will you say?

Will you? Back Mistress Jessica’s demands that the slaves be curtailed? Turn to page 669.
Accuse Mistress Jessica of treason? Turn to page 671.
Say that you do not believe there is a slave rebellion? Turn to page 676.

Page 669

“Mistress Jessica is right,” you boom. “The slaves are up to something and the danger is nearer than you think! This inaction will destroy the manor.”

Mistress Jessica smiles and nods towards you, before turning to the Master. “Master – will you dismiss the slaves?”

The Master’s eyes flicker sadly towards you. “I will not,” he says firmly.

Roars of anger thunder through the hall. Cries of ‘Resign! Resign!’ echo to across to the Master’s ears. Mistress Jessica stands defiant – her eyes locked on the Master. Your gut wrenches. What have you done?

The Master holds his hand aloft, and the sounds die down, but do not entirely fade – another sign of his waning power. “If this manor no longer wishes me to rule it – so be it,” he sighs heavily. “I shall step aside, and take the long walk into the Underworld. I regret, nothing, however. I will not banish slaves that only seek to serve me. Farewell.”

At this, the Master stands, his power visibly ebbing away, such that even his cockslaves do not cry after him, but instead remain stationary, gazing mournfully at the empty chair. With a walk of infinite sadness, the Master, straight backed and prideful even in his fall, makes his way down the hall, not deigning to look at the guests that once claimed to be his friends. He walks through the exit towards his banishment in the Underworld … never to be seen again.

“Honoured guests, do not be afraid!” cries Mistress Jessica. “For another man … a stronger man has volunteered to take his place. Geoffrey the Exiled, long ago Master of this house, shall rule it again – and crush this slave rebellion with an iron glove!”

There is a mighty cheer. This isn’t going according to plan. Mistress Jessica looks stronger than ever!

If you have the codeword TRAITOR, you can suggest a different Master to take over if you wish, Turn to page 670.
If not, read on.

Emerging from the double doors at the end of the hall in a cloud of billowing fog, Geoffrey the Exiled, newly clad in black leather, carrying an iron rod, strides down the hall like a colossus – his white hair belying his powerful build. A merciless glint fills his eyes. The cockslaves, realising their new Master has arrived, fawn upon him, only to be battered away roughly by his iron rod.

“From this day forth,” intones the Dark Master as he seats himself upon the oaken throne, “slaves will know only suffering. No slave may ever take pleasure, either in private or public, at the cost of excruciating punishment. Neither shall they be allowed to leave the manor of their own free will, as if this manor were a hotel there for their convenience. Lastly, let them despair, for I will tolerate no half-witted ‘promotions’ amongst the ranks. Slaves shall be slaves forever, and mistresses shall be taken from honoured guests.”

There is a great cheer across the hall, and Mistress Jessica kneels devoutly before her new Master. Because you supported Jessica in her latest bid for power you are spared the coming purge, where many mistresses who rose up from slave stock are cast back down to slavehood again. But you beat your former peers with a heavy heart, for the manor has changed. Any hope of further promotion is crushed. The manor is now a dark nightmare of suffering and sadism. It is a nightmare from which you will never awaken.

Your adventure ends here…

Page 670

“Wait!” you cry, before the guests and Mistresses get too carried away with their celebration. “Let us not look to the past for the solution to this crisis! There is a man amongst you who is far better able to command than some lost forgotten Master of a former age.”

You stride over to where Mr. Sullivan sits, a slave girl feeding him wine and mopping his brow. “Mr. Sullivan, the master of the stables, is known and popular,” you say. “Furthermore, he is willing to undertake the mantle of Master…”

What happens next surprises you. “Oh no I’m not!” roars Mr. Sullivan in horror. “This mistress is mad! I’ve never had any ambitions for the throne!”

The blood drains from your face … Mr. Sullivan has betrayed you! He is wise … for Mistress Jessica is still to powerful and popular to be opposed. But it has left you looking ridiculous.

Mistress Jessica sneers at your feeble attempts to seize power. “Mistresses,” she says, addressing the leather clad line of house enforcers, who look even more bemused than the guests at the epic shifts in power taking place. “Seize this woman. She shall be presented as a prize to Geoffrey the Exiled. There can be no dissention from his rule.”

The other mistresses, some with a heavy heart, some with obvious glee, grab you – strip you of your mistress garb and tie you tightly with cruel lengths of rope. Tightly tethered and naked, you can do nothing but wait for the arrival of the new Master … the arrival of your doom…

You are presented at the feet of Geoffrey the Exiled like a human sacrifice. Here we shall draw the curtains upon the story, for it is not fit that we consider the ghastly fate that awaits you. A terrible evil has been unleashed into the house … and you are its first victim…

Your adventure ends here…

Page 671

“Enough of this madness!” you cry. “Mistress Jessica is a traitor, and is using this so called revolt as a means of increasing her power! She has no love for you Master!”

The whole assembly gasp in amazement. Mistress Jessica looks upon you with such a glare of fury that you fear she might strike you dead at any moment. The guests begin to confer loudly with each other, many unable to believe that Mistress Jessica could be a traitor, others unable to accept that you could lie to the Master.

“Silence!” booms the Master, his voice resounding through the hall so loud it chills the hearts of all who hear it. “This is a preposterous claim! What proof could there be of such an outrage?”

If you have the Codeword CONTRACT, Turn to page 672.
If you have the Codeword DARKSOUL, Turn to page 675.
If not, read on:

“My Master,” you say earnestly. “I know the slaves well! Less than a year ago I was one of them. They hold only love for you, Master. Not one of them wishes you ill, or dares to speak of rebellion. There can be no danger.”

Mistress Jessica visibly relaxes – you don’t have a shred of proof. “Not to your eyes, slave-mistress,” she spits. “My word is good enough for the Master – why should it not be enough for you?”

The Master raises his hand to silence Mistress Jessica. “Enough, Jessica,” he sooths. “You do not have to defend yourself from this ambitious snipe.” The Master turns to you, a cold anger in his eyes. “I must be getting old indeed to have fallen for your wiles. I see now how hasty I was in promoting you so quickly. I will have no dissention. I strip you of your rank of Mistress. You shall return to the kitchens to serve this manor unseen. Perhaps one day I shall summon you again – but do not count on it happening any time this century. Take her away!”

“Master, no!” you sob desperately, as several mistresses come to drag you away. “She’ll betray you! I know it! Please…!”

This is how it shall be forever – you a lowly kitchen slut, feeding on scraps, whipped for nothing worse than having an unwhipped bottom, whilst above the Master’s throne is gazed upon by covetous eyes…

Your adventure ends here…

Page 672

“The proof you seek is here, Master,” you say, revealing the contract hidden in your leather basque. Mistress Jessica goes pale when she sees it, her legs going weak beneath her so she falls hard upon her knees.

Unrolling the contract and presenting it to the Master’s outstretched hand, you watch as he carefully reads it. A single tear glistens and rolls down his cheek as he realises his beloved Jessica, Supreme Mistress for over a century, has betrayed him.

“It’s … it’s a fake!” moans Mistress Jessica weakly.

“No, Jessica – this document cannot be faked,” the Master says sadly. “For I have its twin in a frame above my bed. Only the name of the Master is different.”

A terrible silence crosses the hall. Mistress Jessica shivers and weeps in defeat.

“Did you … did you ever love me?” the Master asks, his voice slightly cracked.

“Of course … of course I did,” pleads Jessica with desperate eyes. “I would have done anything for you…”

“Then why…?” begins the Master.

A sudden look of fury overcomes Mistress Jessica, who leaps to her feet. “Because you’re weak! Weak, you hear!” she spits, years of bitterness overflowing from her. “I was never enough for you! You continued to look for people to replace me! You actually allowed the slaves to become mistresses, if only they jumped through enough ridiculous hoops for you!”

The Master glowers darkly. “You were a slave, Jessica! I made you a mistress!”

“You’re promotion scheme has made you a laughing stock!” snarls Jessica. “I was the Supreme Mistress of a weak Master! I would sooner be the lowliest slave of a strong one. Kindness has always been your weakness!”

The guests begin to murmur … some of them agree with Mistress Jessica’s sentiments.

“You are banished!” growls the Master. “Return to your mortal life. Find a cruel man to serve and serve him if you wish. This is a place of dreams – not madness!”

“I shall!” shouts Jessica, tears pouring down her eyes. “I shall!” she adds more weakly … and in that moment realises all she has lost.

Silently, and with what dignity she can muster, Jessica walks down the hallway, every set of eyes upon her. She opens the great doors … and vanishes.

Murmuring fills the hall. The Master sits silently upon his throne, lost in his thoughts. The Mistresses look confused and lost. What has just happened?

If you have the Codeword TRAITOR, Turn to page 673.
If not, read on.

Your heart aches – for you have brought pain to the Master. You would rather have suffered a hundred strokes of the cane from Miss. Rose herself than to have caused him any grief. Half afraid, but full of sympathy, you approach the Master’s throne, produce a hanky, and dry the solitary tear upon his cheek.

“Love,” you say quietly, “is not a weakness. We love you, Master. Do not lose yourself to grief.”

The Master looks up at you. It is as if dark shadows have cleared from his eyes as he looks upon your gaze of total adoration. “Kneel beside me,” he says warmly. Without thought, and with joy in your heart, you do.

The Master rises, and the hall falls silent. “Honoured guests,” he says, calling out to his decadent visitors. “Never confuse fairness with weakness. The ranks of this house are devoted to you and your pleasure – but it is only fitting that the best rise to the highest ranks so that you can be served with competence and skill. One such servant, above all others in this house, has demonstrated these two qualities in abundance. She kneels beside me now.”

The Master turns to you. “Rise,” he commands grandly. “For kneeling is no place for a Supreme Mistress. Rule by my side – serve me loyally. Serve me well. Serve at my right hand forever.”

With a lump rising in your throat, and tears of joy welling in your eyes, you just manage the words: “I will.”

A deafening cheer resounds through the hall. Guests, slaves and mistresses together are united behind the Master’s choice – for your fame, your daring, your ruthlessness and willing submission have become the stuff of legend in the house. As you face the cheering crowd you feel a surge of power – the mantle of Supreme Mistress rests upon you, and you wear it lightly and with confidence.

You shall rule forever by the Master’s side, for he has at long last found a woman truly worthy of him. Let slaves and mistresses alike tremble and kneel before you – they do it willingly, knowing that as you lash their bared buttocks you do so with the Master’s absolute authority. Under you the house prospers, and becomes a place of joy, enwrapped in the cries of loyal slaves enduring cane, strap and tawse, and the satisfied laughs of guests and mistresses, who long never to awake from the dream…

You have succeeded, and your adventure ends here…

Page 673

The Master is a wreck of man, gripping onto his throne as if he might tumble from the Earth. He has been betrayed, humiliated and weakened. Now is the time.

“Are you not ashamed, Master?” you cry cruelly, even as crippling guilt seems to ravage your belly. “To have appointed this viper as your closest assistant? How long have the guests and slaves suffered under her madness? You do not even know, do you?”

The Master lifts his head to you. He has but a fraction of his power left, but it is still enough to almost crush your soul.

If your Ambition is 10 or more, Turn to page 674.
If not, read on.

“I regret only your appointment, slave,” growls the Master, a new strength filling his body as he rises from his throne. “A mistake I intend to rectify now. I must be getting old indeed to have fallen for your wiles. I see now how hasty I was in promoting you so quickly. I will have no dissention. I strip you of your rank of Mistress. You shall return to the kitchens to serve this manor unseen. Perhaps one day I shall summon you again – but do not count on it happening any time this century. Take her away!”

“Master, no!” you sob desperately, as several mistresses come to drag you away. “I spoke in haste! Please, Master, forgive me…” Alas, it is too late. The Masters decree is final, and you are pulled from the hall towards the kitchens.

Your adventure ends here…

Page 674

Not even the Master can control your ambition – his magic has weakened, and you are in control now. “You are tired, Master,” you crow. “I see it in your eyes. It is time for you to go.”

Behind you, you hear a steady clap. It is Mr. Sullivan – he claps slowly and in regular time. Soon he is joined by other guests, who clap and stomp in time. A slow chant builds up. “Out! Out! Out!” goes the chant, echoing across the hall, until even the other mistresses have joined in – jeering at the Master to go.

The Master holds his hand aloft, and the sounds die down, but do not entirely fade – another sign of his waning power. “If this manor no longer wishes me to rule it – so be it,” he sighsheavily. “I shall step aside, and take the long walk into the Underworld. I regret, nothing, however. Farewell.”

The hall is stunned, as if it did not really expect the Master to go. But you will not let the power vacuum last long. “Honoured guests!” you cry. “Now we have disposed of the weak link, it is time to select another Master. But this time, let him be someone who actually knows the manor well – who understands how it should be run. It is time for a guest to take the throne, and I can think of none more capable than one of your own - Mr. Sullivan!”

There is a cheer of agreement from the guests, although the mistresses look somewhat more concerned. Most of them, at some time or other, have been hitched up to one of his famous pony carts and lashed naked across the finishing line. It is a memory they do not cherish. None the less, as Mr. Sullivan rises from his chair in acceptance, an even louder cheer fills the hall.

You smile at Mr. Sullivan and indicate the vacant throne. Almost dancing with glee Mr. Sullivan waddles over the throne and sits upon it, the cockslaves instantly fawning over his large thighs, seeking to release his precious member.

“My friends!” booms Mr. Sullivan, his voice amplified by the powers of the manor, which even now seem to grant his fleshy form greater dignity and strength. “Thank you for your welcome. There will be many changes in the manor from now on – the stuffiness and odious obsession with formality shall be stripped! From this day slave girls shall wander the manor topless – so guests may enjoy their charms without the tediousness of commanding them to strip. Also, all slaves must compete in the new pony cart league – some sort of rota will be set up so we get a chance to watch them all try and bounce over the finishing line. No longer will pony carting be voluntary, for every slave girl can benefit from the discipline of that noble sport – that sport of kings!”

“Mistresses, meanwhile, must serve one month in twelve as slaves again – some of them have the most appalling chips on their shoulder, and need taking down a peg or two!”

There is a general roar of approval, even as the mistresses blush and murmur darkly amongst each other.

“But my first command is this,” he says, turning to you. “I take this young filly as my Supreme Mistress. She’s carried me to victory twice now. I know always to back the winning horse – and this is her. To her I grant absolute power over all the slaves and mistresses in the manor. Anything this woman wants she will get – so I suggest to my other mistresses that they better treat her with absolute deference and respect!”

There is another cheer – for you are popular amongst the guests, and your legendary rise to power has been the principal source of gossip in the house.

So begins your life of absolute power. Mr. Sullivan, always happier outside with his ponies rather than stuck in the manor, leaves all the details of command to you. It is a power you revel in. With the Master constantly absent, it leaves you virtually in sole charge.

Your enemies are punished and enslaved – your friends rewarded (although watched closely). You personally oversee every promotion, ensuring that ambitious girls like you never get promoted to mistress, whereas your allies and most obsequious servants receive positions of power.

The slave’s lives are a little harder than before – for many truly hate the fact they must haul pony carts for three months a year. You, however, take a grim satisfaction in it. After all, you had to suffer the humiliation of being chained naked to a cart – why not them to?

Even the unpopular rule of mistresses serving one month a year as slaves serves your purpose, for it is you who decides what duty the mistresses perform. Mistresses who upset you serve in the kitchens, or as cleaners or whipping slaves, whereas those you favour work as pampered pleasure slaves, or even just as your personal slaves, wining and dining you in your quarters. The mistresses can never revolt for fear of being assigned to hard labour.

After a few years, a secretive cult of slaves forms in the manor – devoted to you. You come to be worshipped as the Ultimate Mistress, a figure considered more worthy than even Mr. Sullivan. These grovelling slaves serve as spies, whipping fodder, or anything else you fancy – for even the sternest beating only serves to increase their passion for you. In time, perhaps the cult will grow, and even Mr. Sullivan will be forced to bow down to you?

But that’s all in the future. For now you sit content upon the Master’s throne, left empty and unused by the decadent Mr. Sullivan. Total power is yours, and every slave girl and mistress in the manor kneels before you in trembling awe.

You have succeeded, and your adventure ends here…

Page 675

“My Master,” you say earnestly. “I overheard Mistress Jessica plotting with Geoffrey the Exiled. She plans to overthrow you and install him upon the throne!”

“And your proof of this?” demands the Master, outraged.

You swallow. “I have none, Master,” you admit. “But I could never lie to you!”

“And yet,” growls the Master, “you expect me to believe that Mistress Jessica, a woman who has served me loyally for a hundred years, would lie to me?”

What can you say? “I can only tell you what I saw and overheard, Master.”

“Pathetic!” spits Mistress Jessica. “This slut was always overambitious. Here we are in the middle of a crisis, and all she can do is attempt to increase her own power!”

“Master, no!” you sob desperately, as several mistresses come to drag you away. “She’ll betray you! I know it! Please…!”

This is how it shall be forever – you a lowly kitchen slut, feeding on scraps, whipped for nothing worse than having an unwhipped bottom. Only one thing contents you – you have ruined Mistress Jessica’s plans, for it would now be impossible for her to carry out her mad scheme of replacing the Master now she has denied all knowledge of the plot. That is only slight compensation, however, for even now Mrs. Kent’s tawse is whistling through the air towards your bottom. You’d better get used to it, this is how it will be forever…

Snap!

Your adventure ends here…

Page 676

“What a fascinating insight!” cries Mistress Jessica sarcastically. “I rather think I’m better placed to decide what the slaves are up to, rather than some newly promoted mistress like you!”

A laugh ripples across the hall, from the guests and mistresses. You have been humiliated, and your chance has been lost. Feeling vulnerable and exposed, you quickly step back into line with the rest of the mistresses.

What happens next seems to occur in a blur. The Master is overthrown. A new Master, Geoffrey the Exiled is installed, and crushes the slave rebellion in its infancy. Blaming an excess of what he calls the ‘former Master’s slave mistresses’ for the rebellion, you are stripped of your rank and cast back into the kitchens.

There you serve as a lowly kitchen slut until the end of your days. For although the guests laughed at you, Mistress Jessica saw you for the true threat you were. She has long suspected your ambitions. Now they have been crushed. Forever.

Your adventure ends here…

Page 677

Somewhere, somehow, something within you snaps. Perhaps it is the constant beating? The endless discipline? The slow grinding down of your pride and dignity? But finally you have no resistance left. You become quiet and withdrawn, silent and obedient, like most of the other slaves in the house. You serve loyally, and are well thrashed for your service.

Any ambition of becoming Supreme Mistress, or even a favoured slave, vanishes, as you become lost in a haze of constant sexual service, punishment beatings, and grovelling submission.

You will live forever in the house as a lowly slave, unremarked and uncared for – more slave fodder for the Master’s decadent guests and cruel mistresses.

Your adventure ends here…

The End of the Adventure

Now you’ve completed the adventure you may want to know how well you did. First give yourself a score for each special Codeword you acquired according to how you ended the adventure, and then get bonus points according to how you ended the adventure.

Codewords Acquired VICTORY 30 CONTRACT 40 HONOUR 10 TRIAL 20 BROKEN 10 HEADS 10 THROWN 30 PLUCK 10 DARKSOUL 20

Ending One of your Attributes dropped to 0 0 Exiled from the Manor 0 Trapped in the Underworld 10 Pony Girl Slave 20 Kitchen Slave 30 Guest Cockslave, Whipping Girl or Pleasure Slave 40 The Master’s Cockslave 50 Mistress 60 Supreme Mistress 80 Ultimate Mistress 100 Consult your ranking below:

Score You played with the skill of: 250 The Master 220 Mistress Jessica 180 Mr. Sullivan 150 Miss. Rose 120 Mistress Odessa 90 Veronica 50 Mrs. Kent 30 Laura 10 Samantha 0 Candy

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