Venus in the Country

Erotic tale dealing with the human desire for submission and discipline. Flagellation has been with humanity from time immortal. What is it that so enamors the human thought process to combine pain and pleasure?

Fostered from the age of 15 by Mr. and Mrs. Rumple, young Pamela finds herself surplus to Mrs. Rumple's household needs at 18. Mr. Rumple is tasked with informing young Pamela of her new employ, but having harboured a letch for the pretty girl for some time, he takes full advantage of the situation by requiring an intimate 'inspection' before she departs. One thing quickly leads to another, and another, and before she leaves all her orifices have been thoroughly educated.

Having enjoyed her sexual education, Pamela avails herself of every conceivable opportunity to exercise and educate all about her in her new position. Expected to act as governess to her new employers children, it is not long before the birch begins to feature.

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Excerpt:

"The girl will have to go, Horace," Mrs. Rumple declared soundly to her husband. "She's getting ever a healthier appetite and a new dress needed every year. It's all become too much. We can get a cheaper skivvy who will do twice as much housework as she and have her room into the bargain."

"Yes, my dear," Horace Rumple agreed sadly. He had no wish to see Pamela go. Now approaching eighteen, she was as lovely a lass as he had ever seen and many a time had given him a fine tingle in his breeches.

At the age of fifteen, Pamela had come into the care of the Rumples, who were considered by one and all in the district to be the most charitable of people. Her parents, it was said, had been lost at sea, her father having been the captain of a fine merchant vessel en route to India. Mrs. Rumple had looked the girl up and down and considered she would make a nice servant to open the door to their guests and to do the housework and all manner of things.

But little by little the good lady had begun to find Pamela a bit highborn in her ways. Not that the sweet girl intended to be. She was quiet by nature and well spoken. Perhaps her accent was a trifle superior to that of her guardians, which upset Mrs. Rumple considerably.

"You must tell her today, Horace, and have done with it."

"Yes, my dear, but we can scarce put the poor thing out on the street."

Mrs. Rumple was only waiting to produce her trump card.

"There is no need, Horace. I have made due arrangements. An advertisement in The Times called for a companion. I answered it. I gave them the highest credentials. They are pleased to say that they accept. She may leave tomorrow."

Horace Rumple gazed across the breakfast table in awe at his good lady. She was ever resourceful and he lived in some fear of her. Had he not, he would have hopped into bed with Pamela ere this. Now he saw his chance. If the girl were to depart tomorrow, she would have little enough time to say anything to Mrs. Rumple about it. As luck would have it, his wife was to attend a social occasion that very afternoon. Beyond the windows of the house the sun shone bright in the garden. In every way it seemed a very fine day, he thought.

"I will attend to all, my dear," he murmured.

Mrs. Rumple nodded. A clatter came from the hallway where Pamela was dusting. Finishing her tea, the good wife entered the hall and addressed the girl.

"I am to have my hair dressed this morning, Pamela, and I shall not be here for most of the day. Mr. Rumple has some news to impart to you. Attend him now."

"Yes, Mrs. Rumple."

Pamela never curtsied, which annoyed her guardian. She would teach the next servant to do so as she believed they all did in the grand houses. Glaring slightly at the lissome suppleness of the girl's figure as Pamela dutifully, made her way to the dining room, Mrs. Rumple attended to her own affairs.

Horace received Pamela graciously. By his reckoning she had grown prettier by the month. Her chestnut locks fell thickly to her shoulders, which - such as he could see of them - were dazzling white. Her nose was neither too long nor too short and perfectly straight, being enhanced by two large, liquid eyes that ever seemed to hold an expression of wonderment. Of moderate height, the incurving of her waist and a certain fullness to her bottom - added to which was some impressive thrusting in her corsage - Pamela presented a picture of considerable allure.

"We - er - have something to discuss, Pamela. I think perhaps if we take a turn in the garden? I rather wanted to look at the summerhouse."

A trifle surprised, Pamela followed him out. The grass was green and lush on the lawn, and many pretty thoughts came to her as she gazed at the flowers and shrubs. The summerhouse lay at the end of the garden and it was thence that Horace led her, to be well out of sight of his wife. Within all was cosy, for this was in part his private den. The floor was carpeted and a pleasant divan stood in one corner. Next to the divan was a cabinet which - although Mrs. Rumple knew it not - contained a number of saucy photographs of naked and half-naked maidens which her husband secretly collected.