Edward Cartwright

The Family Man

CHAPTER ONE

There could be no mistake about the sound that came through the library door to catch the attention of the two men who sat sipping sherry.

First there was the angry swish of the birch, then following closely, the sound of it curling around a bare posterior. The loud girlish cry of pained protest which followed closely. After a brief pause, the sounds were repeated in the same order.

“I say, Harry,” the guest looked confused and his words confirmed it, “it sounds for all the world like… well…”

“Like my fifteen year old daughter Faith having her bare bottom birched? That's precisely what it is. I feel that stern discipline is the only answer in times such as these. Without it, children would be completely spoiled.”

Instantly aroused by the sounds of a well developed girl of fifteen being birched on her naked posterior, the guest wanted very much to stay. Yet, the manner of his host gave a strong indication that he should leave.

It was just the impression Harry Brougham wanted to give his guest. Just through the door, Elizabeth, the children's tutor, would look breathtaking in her role of avenging angel.

Her strong body would be poised, firm breasts, buttocks and thighs straining the plain white frock as she bent over the wailing culprit and brought the birch down again and again on the flawless satin half moons of Faith's writhing, twitching buttocks.

Already, the lush white mounds would be red streaked against the alabaster background. A few more strokes, and the hillocks would be more red than white.

Elizabeth, he recalled, liked to apply the birch with a slow rhythm, a maddeningly slow one to the victim who counted those received and dreaded those yet to come at the pleasure of the woman who knew so well how to ignite fires under sensitive skin. He had to get rid of the man at once.

“I'm sure you'll understand, Charles,” Harry rose as he spoke. “It seems that a family emergency has arisen and I must attend to it.”