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Review This Story || Author: Smackmagnet

Chastening Day

Part 6

This story is a work of fiction. Do not copy anything in the story.


CHASTENING DAY    Act II:     A POOR GIRL, A RICH BOY


© smack magnet


Ch 6: Mister Jaxo


Though the main group was receding, a few men remained. Sturmer stood there, looking down. Other stragglers leered.

“A second shrew,” a portly man said. “What for this one, eh?”

“Want some help there, boy?” a second man jested.

Joseph nervously handled his willow switch. The men stepped closer. The first one said, “A thrashing first s it? ’Fore that other thing?”

“Show us a look-see between her legs, eh lad?”

The third voice was Jaxo’s. “You’re her master today, boy. Bob Dummet speaks the truth. You want her naked, you can have her naked.”

Misha’s torso shuddered as Joseph stared.

“Prob’ly wants her private,” the fat man said.

“Private, is it?” Bob Dummet asked. “So private two blokes can’t stand and make suggestions, eh? Go on boy, let’s see her privates.”

Joseph looked, unsure, to the man Misha knew as Jaxmund Urmsvend. “Jaxo?” he asked.

“We’re not in your father's garden now, boy. Out on the heath, I'm Mister Jaxo. So say it, eh?”

Joseph opened his mouth, non-plussed.

“Say it or you won’t get no present off me.”

The boy’s eyes flicked to Misha, then back. “Sorry,” he said. “Mister? Jaxo?”

“Faster, boy.”

“I’m very sorry, Mister Jaxo.”

Sturmer grunted, half way to a laugh.

“Go on, boy,” said the fat man with the jowly face. “Give us a show. There’s only us to see.”

Dominic had the elders near out of sight. Joseph and Misha, Sturmer and Jaxo and the other two stragglers stood on their own.

“Easy, Arnath,” Jaxo said. “It’s first time for the boy. It was first time for us, once.”

“Tell him to get on with it,” the second straggler said.

“Patience, Dummet. Now, lad. You fancy doing her, right?”

Misha flicked Joseph a frightened look. Joseph nodded, faintly, to Jaxo.

“There’s a maid in your bed, eh? You can have her two ways. Clothes on or clothes off. Which might you fancy?”

Joseph’s voice barely made a sound above a whisper. “Off,” he husked.

“Go on then, boy.”

He hesitated. Misha tried to catch his eyes. But a harrowing squeal came distantly from Anja, which had Misha flinching weak at the knees. Joseph reached in, unfastening the bow which was tied at her waist.

It was different with Jaxo, different watched by Sturmer. These men were Joseph’s familiars. Though Arnath and Dummet mumbled to themselves and muttered to each other, Jaxo held them both in check. Gone were the jeers of the other rough men. Joseph, near gently, lowered Misha’s skirt.

“No need to stop there, boy.” That was Sturmer, one of precious few phrases he’d uttered to Joseph. Though Misha flinched, Joseph slid his thumbs inside her under garment’s rim. The skin of her hips felt warm to his touch.

“Do it, boy,” Bob Dummet said.

Joseph lowered them, sinking as he did so. Then, responding to a mime from Jaxo, he prompted the girl in the small of her back. As her sensible laced shoes shuffled forward, her skirt and under clothes stayed back on the ground.

“What think you now, boy?” Jaxo asked. “Take a good long gander.”

Joseph looked. Misha proved to have no thick thatch of hair between her legs. Just neat blonde wisps, fine and silky, with a sweet little kiss curl curved at her cleft.

“Fair up top and fair below.” Jaxo laughed, winking. “Just one thing more, boy. Show us how you’re fixing to do her.”

Misha’s eyes flicked in fright from eye to lusting eye. With her elbows held by the thin hemp rope, a thin line of snot dribbled downwards like a snail. Joseph, not knowing where to start, wiped it away with his own silk cloth.

Jaxo chuckled and said, “Good lad.”

“Um,” said Joseph. He took Misha’s elbow. He turned her back towards Sturmer and the stragglers. Then he pressed it down till she bent at the waist.

“Her wicked tongue come a cropper now, eh?” Arnath’s laughter jiggled his belly.

At a prompt from Jaxo, Joseph swished his willow whip, air into air.

Bob Dummet asked him, “This ’un shrewed you with her tongue did she, boy?”

Joseph nodded. “Yes.”

Jaxo flicked his head back. “You can stuff all your da said up his back pipe now, boy. My guess is this. You’re born here, of here. You’re one of us, lad. You can prove it, can’t you?”

As Misha flickered a darting eye, Joseph’s stayed locked on Jaxo’s. The gardener grinned a left-side grin, then popped his brows wide.

“Right lad? So do her!”

Joseph cracked her buttocks with his ribboned willow. The wand was close to a yard in length, three strands of pliant twig, each plaited one about the rest, with red and blue ribbons threading spiral up the stems. It cracked tight cheeks and cannoned straight back.

Sturmer growled his quiet approval.

Jaxo said, “There. A lad of the heath.”

As Misha sucked her breath in sharp, and flinched and jerked, he flicked in more.

“There’s my boy now,” Jaxo said.

From the distance, a squeal floated up to them.

“But just so our priest don’t have me for a fool… that other game. Show us you remember it, eh?”

Joseph breathed harder. He turned, stepped away. He pulled on Misha’s elbow, straightening her, walking her backwards.

A grating scream came distantly. Misha’s arms trembled and her breath came ragged. Joseph wouldn’t look at her face. He stopped her close to a fresh clump of gorse.

He looked to Jaxo. “How should I do it?”

The gardener rumbled, “You could force her, boy. Some might do it that way. But she bent for your whip. Maybe see if she’s willing.”

Joseph’s breathing came faster. He moved one of Misha’s legs out from the other. He jostled her back another step.

He said, “Misha? Lower your hips for me, please.”

Misha seemed confused. She blinked at him, then at Jaxo and the stragglers. Then down between her legs. She shuddered, once.

Sturmer mimed pushing her down with his hand.

The juvenile bush between Misha's legs was both younger and smaller than Anja’s had been. But its needles were fresh and pin-sharp green. Misha’s knees locked.

Bob Dummet growled, “Go on, lad. Drop the bitch in it!”

Joseph tightly shook his head. He looked the frightened girl directly in her eyes.

“I want you to lower your hips,” he said.

She stared back. Blinked once, blinked twice, her pupils dilating. With a faint little squeal, she lowered her hips, by hands and by inches, till the needles found their mark. And there, though she shuddered her shoulders and clamped her teeth locked, she strove to hold her pose.

Joseph stepped back to take in the sight. He’d always loved the vivid yellow of flowers of gorse, loved their welcoming shape. Made for bees to impregnate, like the delicate lips between the legs of a girl.

The yellow flowers kissed Misha’s pretty lips as her body shuddered strongly from the sharp prick of thorns.


Jaxo said in a quiet aside, “We’ll be moving on in a minute, Sturms. We’ve other business elsewhere now.”

“The Smolt girl. Done a runner, ha’n’t she?”

“She has.” Jaxo pointed. “Ran yonder way, so Faltren said.”

“Who’s chasing?”

“No man, not yet anyroad.”

Sturmer clicked his tongue against his teeth. “Years since we had a runner.”

“Your second chastening, wa’n it?”

“You know it. Mizzy Polder.”

“You caught her an’ all. I recall the tales.”

“Me and Arnath there. And another lad or two. Arnath weren’t half that fat back then.”

Jaxo laughed, quiet and low. “I still sees her about, that Mizzy Polder.”

“Aye.” Sturmer spat. “She still ha’n’t forgive us.” He chuckled. “Mind, neither would I, if she’d a done to us some o’ what we done to her.” He laughed again, remembering. “Round up the other casuals, should I?”

“You figure anyone else has clocked she’s a goner?”

Sturmer turned his head to peer at Pavel’s receding pack. “Got a bird in the hand, that lot, ha’n’t they? Coming, then?”

“Quick word with the lad first,” Jaxo said. He pulled a thin hemp rope from his shoulder and called, “Here, boy. Catch.”

He tossed it to Joseph. Taken by surprise, the young man fumbled it. He stooped to picked it up, blushing briefly as he glanced back at Misha in her stoop.

Jaxo stepped closer. “What you might want to tie, boy… up to you, that is.”

The boy nodded, blinking at the length of rope.

“You see I’m here as well, eh? Got no boy of our own, me and Zelma. Girls only. Someone got to.”  Jaxo was now standing close to the boy while Sturmer spoke to Arnath and only Bob Dummet leered down at the girl. Jaxo rumbled in Joseph’s ear, “If you fancy my suggestion, you tie her baps up good and tight. Near to the chest. Several loops. Don't stint on the loops, boy, or you might risk damage to the things they bind.”

“Thank you, Jax… Mister Jaxo.” Joseph’s eyes were wide. "You are very kind to me."

Jaxo looked back. “Kind, I dunno. I’ve a soft spot for you, boy. Feels right. That’s the truth.” He chuckled to himself. “And ’cause you've got the gist now, here's a second present.” He pulled something from his back pocket. “Just in case you might want to get intimate.” He handed the boy a pair of stout leather gardening gloves. “They’re not my big ’uns. I took ’em off Arnath. See the man with the belly? Arnath might look big with that gut of his, but his hands are half way to a woman's. These might just fit your piano player's mitts.”

Joseph looked at the gloves, then his hands. He said, “Thank you, Mister Jaxo. What are they for?”

Jaxo ruffled the boy's sandy hair as he’d sometimes done when Joseph was little. “Nothing I wouldn't do.” A sly, lopsided lust tweaked his mouth. “Which ain't a lot, maybe. Though we never used gorse when I was a lad, ha! Look at her a minute.”

Joseph stared at Misha, who was beaded with sweat as she fought to keep her hips low.

“You know what, boy? She ain’t tried to run, not like that Smolt girl. You told her to drop, and the beauty’s stayed dropped. I heard her a few times, she’ll talk till she’s blue. But push comes to shove, she’s docile enough. Do a lot worse than a docile girl. How d'you feel about her, eh? You sweet on her yet?”

Joseph blushed. He shook his head.

“She look at you wrong once, did she then?”

With a pause, Joseph nodded.

Jaxo's voice dropped low to a growl. “You want to do her proper, do you boy?”

The boy’s breath huffed out quick through his nostrils. He nodded imperceptibly.

“Know what?” Jaxo said, conspiratorial. “Sex is good. Fucking a bird is good. But this… what you got here… what you might just do to this one now... I tell you boy, there's nothing like it. Nothing in the world. When it was my turn, it was the biggest rush I ever had. And we didn’t stand for no namby-pamby tip-taps, not the way we done it then. All that crap came later, and how weak and sad it feels to this day. But today… things just changed for wilder. You can feel it. I say feel it, I can fucking hear it.” In the distance, on cue, Anja’s squeal echoed raw. “You make sure you take advantage, eh? Savour it. And here’s my final point, if you’ll bear a few words more. Don't you go too fast.”

“I won’t,” Joseph said. “I don't want to.”

“’Cause we can’t see the future. Worst comes to worst, this may only happen once. For me? One chastening, and that was my lot. So remember, slow. The slower you go, the longer you can make her last.” Jaxo sneaked a look behind. His voice dropped to a whisper. “You know what I think? You should take her some place quiet. Where it’s you and her and no man else. My pick, that would have been, if I’d only had the choice. You take this chit somewhere private and you tell her not to scream. Bit of silence and the riff-raff oughtn’t be attracted to you.”

He peered at the girl. He winked at her.

“She's docile enough, I see it straight. She might do you proud, if you don’t use her up. So enjoy yourself, boy. ’Cause my guess is, once you start… you won't want to stop.”


Review This Story || Author: Smackmagnet
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