Portrait of a Disciplinarian Read Online Free

think about your beastly proposition.’
    He paused a moment before speaking again, carefully, as if each word had been chosen only after considerable reflection.
    ‘Seems to me, seeing as how you want to think about it, that maybe you’re not so very prim and proper as you might be. And seeing as how you can manage to think about it, you might as well do it. Seems so.’
    Stephanie threw him an angry glance, unable to dispute what he was saying because he was right. He responded with a dirty grin, as if reading her mind, then spoke again.
    ‘Done it before, have you?’
    ‘No, I have not!’ she answered him.
    ‘How do you know it’s so bad then?’ he asked.
    Again Stephanie made a face, not knowing what to say.
    ‘A lot of girls like it,’ he went on. ‘Very keen, my missus used to be, back when we were courting. Used to rub him between her dumplings and all, she did. Nice, that was. Shame you’re not so generous in your hamper, but I do like small ones …’
    Stephanie put her hands to her breasts, conscious of how their shape showed through her wet dress.
    ‘That’s right,’ he said, ‘give them a little rub. Make you feel better about it.’
    ‘I am not …’ Stephanie began in outrage, and stopped.
    Despite the bright spring sunshine she was starting to feel cold, and badly needed to take off her clothes to let them dry. The drayman obviously wasn’t going to go away. At the thought of taking her clothes off in front of him she began to blush again, and, as she turned away, she spotted her lost shoe, lying at the water’s edge beneath the bridge. She went to fetch it and slipped her foot inside, only to discover that it was full of mud, which squashed up between her toes and around her ankle, soiling her stocking. It seemed that fate was against her.
    ‘So what’s it to be?’ he demanded. ‘If you’re going to be missish about it, I’d best be getting along.’
    ‘I am not being missish!’ Stephanie snapped. ‘You’re being a beast!’
    He merely shrugged and began to walk towards his dray. Stephanie watched, her mouth working in indecision as she thought of the ignominious arrival at Driscoll’s without her car, the shamefaced interview with Great-aunt Victoria and the others, the exposure of her bottom in the drawing room, the bite of the cane into her tender flesh …
    ‘Oh, very well!’ she spat. ‘But I’d like you to know that you’re a horrid pig, and no gentleman.’
    ‘I don’t recall saying I was a gentleman,’ he answered, leering as he turned to her once more. ‘Let’s get the business done, then, and my girls’ll have you out of there in a trifle.’
    Across the road was a small quarry, perhaps used in the construction of the bridge, which looked as if it might provide suitable concealment. Feeling thoroughly put upon but nevertheless acutely conscious of the intimacy of what she was about to do, Stephanie took the drayman by the hand and led him across the road, her feet squelching in her muddy shoes. He followed, suddenly pliable now that he’d got his way, and she found herself within a ring of cut granite, open only at one side, and that grown over with gorse and brambles. It was obvious that nobody had worked the place for years. At least nobody would see her disgrace herself.
    Several chunks of granite lay among the soft grass on the quarry floor. The drayman went over to the largest of them, unfastened his trousers, pushed them to his ankles and sat down. Beneath, he had coarse woollen longjohns of a greyish-yellow hue, with buttons at the front, two of which he unfastened to allow him to flop out the large dun-coloured penis she had seen before, along with a set of large dun-coloured balls.
    ‘Off with your clothes then, my love,’ he ordered as he began to stroke himself, ‘and I dare say if you spread them out on the rocks they’ll be dry in a moment.’
    Her face set in an angry scowl, Stephanie obeyed, peeling her dress up and off, then starting on