The Little Miss Collection
Carolyn Faulkner
The Little Miss Book One
The Little Miss Book Two
The Little Miss Book Three
The Little Miss Book Four
Published by Blushing Books at Smashwords
Copyright 2010 by Blushing Books and Carolyn Faulkner
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ISBN 978-1-935152-49-1
Cover Design: ABCD Graphics and Design
This book is intended for adults only. Spanking and other sexual activities represented in this book are fantasies only, intended for adults. Nothing in this book should be interpreted as advocating any non-consensual spanking activity or the spanking of minors.
Table of Contents
The Little Miss Book One
The Little Miss Book Two
The Little Miss Book Three
The Little Miss Book Four
The Little Miss
Book One
Carolyn Faulkner
Chapter One
Edmund Wainwright opened the door to his tidy little Victorian house and stepped inside, out of the cold blustery weather and into its warm confines. He removed his heavy gray overcoat and hung it on the hall tree, doffed his hat and did the same, as the tantalizing sounds of what was going on on the floor above drifted to his ears.
“Ow – oh – no – pleeaassee – Nanny – eeeek! Oh! Owwww!”
Something stiff and perhaps leather or wooden was thwacking away diligently at a soft, tender bottom that would soon be – if it wasn’t already and he doubted that it wasn’t – sore and swollen from its attentions.
His little wife, and he used the term loosely, was getting a belting, it sounded like. Or maybe a caning, but she wasn’t really yelping loudly enough for that. Perhaps her Nanny was using a ruler or a paddle... Already greatly aroused within seconds by the possibilities of the tableau he would be gleefully interrupting, he trotted up the stairs with undue haste to investigate to cluck and moan and verbally chastise the miscreant. Perhaps he’d even to join in the fun.
The door to the Nursery where she received her daily lessons in Sewing, Mathematics, French, and Comportment was wide open, and Edmund had to smile at that. Nanny Estelle was a mastermind of discipline, and she knew how much his little Lacy hated the fact that, although she was over eighteen and a married woman, she was still required by her strict, stern but loving husband to study hard – whatever subjects he and Nanny Estelle decided on (always at least one or two that she was guaranteed to have a horrible time with – like Math) – and if she did not do well, Nanny Estelle still wielded the rod – or tawse, etc – with a lethal hand, and on a frighteningly frequent basis, as her husband expected. And with the door left open, all and sundry passing by could see the woman who should be the mistress of the house tipped bare bottomed over her Nanny’s lap – or the spanking horse that her doting husband had bought not long after she’d come to live with him when she was seventeen and a half – getting what Nanny called a “good dose”.
That was the scene that greeted his eyes as he paused in the doorway, Lacy lay over Estelle’s sturdy lap – Estelle was not fat but she was almost brawny, having more upper-body strength than the average woman, Edmund guessed – with her rear prominently displayed towards him, as if the Nanny had prepared this whole montage specifically for his benefit. If she had, then he thanked her heartily to himself, and would show a more physical representation of his gratitude later that night. His small wife’s bottom, which was much more generous than one might assume on a woman of her delicate body-type, was well-raised, her legs nicely spread to reveal that wonderful bare pussy he insisted she have – and that her Nanny scrupulously maintained – those full red lips winking together and apart in a most enticingly involuntary but lewd display, giving him more than occasional glimpse of even more private territory.
And they were wet! Each of those plump morsels was covered in her own spunk – how utterly humiliating for the dear girl, and how wonderful for himself!
Edmund paused right there at the doorway for a moment to bask in the sounds of the little darling’s chastisement. He could hear Estelle grunting over her efforts and could see the sweat gleaming on her face as she worked that bottom over quite soundly. His little girl was fairly howling now, driven to incoherence and he wasn’t surprised when he got a good gander at her red and inflamed cheeks. Those tremendous spanks must have smarted like the dickens, and her Nanny didn’t appear to be anywhere near finished with her yet.
Not for the first time, Edmund counted his blessings that he’d seen fit to lend Lacy’s wastrel father what was – for Oliver Hannaford - a considerable amount of money. Oh, he had assumed that he’d never see it again, given Hannaford’s fondness for both drink and gambling, but they had been old school chums and Edmund had been in a generous mood, having won quite a lot himself that night. But the next time he’d run into the chap, there had been no money forthcoming, of course. When Edmund had inquired about it quite casually, Hannaford had up and offered his daughter – in marriage, of course.
Edmund had spent a good deal of time avoiding just such an occurrence – matrimony, that is. He was a youngest son – although he was forty-three currently – and there was no great impetus for him to marry. His business and his investments were doing quite well, and he was a wealthy man with no ties to anyone. He did exactly as he pleased.
It was his pleasure that concerned him, however. His . . . . interests were well known by the genteel set, very few of whom agreed with his tastes. Prostitutes were, of course, available to all and sundry, and therein lay Edmund’s distaste. He didn’t want anyone’s sloppy seconds, and even most mistresses qualified that way. He’d come to the point in his life, after a lot of footloose wild oats, that he wanted his own female. And he meant that quite literally.
He didn’t really want a wife. Never had. He certainly didn’t want an equal – not that any would or could ever be his equal. He would never put up with the kind of relationships that his brothers and friends had – henpecked by overbearing wives, each and every one of them. Edmund wanted a woman he could mold to his own particular, slightly skewed specifications.
And that was exactly what Oliver Hannaford had provided when he agreed to give his daughter Lacy to Edmund in consideration of the forgiveness of his debt. Of course, Edmund had met the girl prior to marrying her – he would never have acquired a pig-in-a-poke. They had a friendly dinner at Hannaford’s tiny digs, and Edmund found Lacy to be eminently desirable on several levels. She was currently underage to marry at seventeen and a half, but he was able to persuade Hannaford to allow him to move Lacy into his own house the next week by promising to hire a duenna to act as chaperone for the six months prior to the wedding. She appeared to be quiet and demure, not loud or boisterous, and she really was quite pretty. Lacy only stood about five feet or so tall, and she was very slender and angular, as if she hadn’t quite grown out of her adolescent gawkiness, although her breasts and bottom were delectably rounded, he’d noticed immediately.
His mouth began to water as soon as they were introduced. She was perfect, and was of such a tender age that she well could have been his daughter, which was exactly what he intended to treat her as . . . for the most part. He would have her if he had to kidnap her out from under Hannaford’s nose. She was just right for him. And Hannaford had as much as assured him, in a roundabout manner, that she was entirely untried – in fact, Hannaford had never so much as allowed her to have so much as a gentleman caller.
During dinner, Edmund had questioned the girl gently, drawing her out, trying to detect any faults he could. But she was polite and charming and smiled easily, and seemed to be fairly well-spoken. Hannaford had despaired of the fact aloud that all she seemed interested in doing was reading.
But Edmund had raised his wineglass at her in salute. “There’s nothing at all wrong with educating young girls, Oliver. As long as it’s the right kind of education for them, and they don’t get to uppity about it.”
Lacy had been installed in his house in less than a week from that night, with Hannaford being given every assurance that Wainwright would not press himself on the girl until they were well and truly married, and that was something that Edmund was entirely prepared to do. He found the idea of having her in his house and beginning the process of molding her into the girl he wanted to be quite titillating, and he fully intended not to lay an amorous hand on her until they were married on the day of her eighteenth birthday. He didn’t need or want the authorities after him, and everything would be entirely above board.
After her eighteenth birthday, then she would truly belong to him, in every sense of the world, and he would do with her entirely as he pleased.
That week had been spent in some flurry of activity by Edmund. He needed a governess, but the ones that he had interviewed would not take the position – not that he had truly sensed that any of them had really understood what he wanted anyway; they all assumed that their jobs would be over in six months time, when he wed his bride.
But they were entirely wrong in their assumptions. That was when Edmund felt that Lacy would need a governess more than ever.
Finally, he had had to depend on some acquaintances who knew of his particular tastes, and that was when he had stumbled on the gem that was Estelle LeTourneau. Estelle had come to her interview in a severe black suit, which Edmund had found eminently practical for someone of her station – despite the fact that her station in his house would be a little different than it might be in other houses.
They dispensed with the social chit-chat almost immediately and got down to business, as Edmund preferred. He ran a finger over his still coal-black mustache. “I want to make sure that you understand me fully, Miss LeTourneau. My fiancée will be coming to live with me in a few days. She is a very young, sheltered girl of seventeen and a half. You can understand, therefore, why I require the services of a chaperone while we live here together unmarried.” Estelle was shaking her head in agreement. “The unusual part of this job, however, is not the chaperone component. It is the fact that I would require much more from you than merely the role of duenna.” He stood and paced to the window. “I am an old fashioned man but also a man of the world, Miss LeTourneau. My wife-to-be is a motherless . . . unopened flower who has not been very well provided for in her early years. She needs to be guided and taught about the finer things in life by a woman older than herself.” He turned to face Estelle. “A strong, strict woman who can take her in hand and mold her to my ideals . . . almost a nanny, as if she were a much younger girl. Do you follow what I’m saying, Miss LeTourneau?”
“I believe so, Mr. Wainwright,” Estelle had been informed of the gentleman’s tastes, and they ran along the same lines as her own. “You need a woman who can act not only as a chaperone, but also as a governess to your fiancée, am I correct in paraphrasing you?”
Edmund felt a surge of excitement. She was the first interviewee that had come this far in the process, and she seemed to have grasped exactly what he wanted.
“Would I – as the child’s governess, despite her somewhat advanced years to have a governess – be given full charge of her – within your parameters, of course?”
He sat down and leaned forward, towards the seated woman. “Let us speak plainly, if we may. Are you, perhaps, asking whether or not you would be expected to reprimand my wife-to-be?”
“Yes, Sir,” Estelle did not mince words. “I could not take the position unless I knew that, aside from your word, mine was law to the girl, and that you would fully support my discretionary use of liberally, thoroughly applied corporal punishment whenever I deemed it necessary.” Estelle was warming to her subject. “Wife or no, she could not be running to you for comfort or commutation of her punishments.”
Edmund rocked back in his chair, his dick hard as a diamond. “I do believe, Miss LeTourneau, that we are in complete agreement on that matter.” Estelle nodded. “I also want you to know that this is not a temporary assignment by any means. I fully intend to employ you for the rest of my wife’s life. I cannot always be with her, and I do occasionally go away on business. It would never be my habit to take my wife with me, but I would need to know that her need for strict discipline and stern love were seen to while I was away as well as at any other time.”
“That’s exactly what she’d get from me, Sir. Strictness, lots of paddlings and canings, good, wholesome food with not too many spices, early bedtimes, naps in the afternoons – and mornings if she’s fussy. I can teach most subjects, and within the first day or so I’ll do some overall assessments of her strengths and weaknesses. She should be educated in a variety of subjects, a few that she’s likely to succeed in and one or two that will be good and hard for her – most of them quite proper and ladylike. But the ones that are harder for her - those’ll generate most of the discipline, unless she’s the unruly sort.”
Edmund frowned. “I don’t believe she is. Her comportment when I met her was that of a gentlewoman, but with marked lack of the higher social graces that I’m sure you can address.”
“Yes, Sir.”
He cleared his throat. “Let me assure you that I have no hesitancy whatever about the use of physical chastisement applied to her bottom in any way you might see fit. However I want it clearly understood that I have no interest in breaking her spirit. She is a young, tender shoot and I would have her bend to me rather than snap in two.”
“Understood, Sir.”
Edmund stood, offering his hand with a broad smile. “I do believe I’ve found the right woman for the job, Miss LeTourneau. When can you start?”
The sturdy woman stood, and Edmund realized how perfect the situation would be just from the physical end of things: LeTourneau was probably close to six feet, and next to her, Lacy would look even more like a reed thin little girl.
“Estelle, Sir, please, and I can be at your house tomorrow, if that meets with your approval.”
“Splendid!” They shook hands, and Estelle left Edmund to muse over his find.
Chapter Two
Estelle had arrived promptly at nine the next morning, and Edmund himself had let her in. She arrived in uniform – a serviceable gray dress with a white bibbed apron and a loose skirt with big patch pockets. He had her bags taken up to her own room immediately, and then gave her a tour of the house. Of course, Lacy would not have full run of it. In general, he told Estelle, she should be kept to the dining room, the back parlor, and then her room upstairs – for the time until they were married, at which time she would join him in his own room – and the large room he’d set aside as her Nursery area. They talked about rules for her and general behavioral policies as they walked.
“I would prefer that she not go out much – although some – perhaps once a week to the Park, maybe? – is all right. Please always confer with me regarding any outings.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Mostly, I believe, though, she’ll remain upstairs.” Edmund opened the door to the bedroom Lacy would be using for the next six months. It had definite childish appointments – there was a large Brentwood rocking chair in one corner, and a lacey white canopied bed with three rag dolls sitting up near the pillows. There were toys and colored blocks in one area, and another area had a fairly large crib – one that could definitely accommodate a smaller than average young woman.
“What will the mis – your fiancée be wearing, Sir?”
Edmund smiled as he walked into the room towards the closet. “You should call her Lacy, Estelle, as she’s always going to be nothing more than a young girl, no matter how old she gets. She has no title in this house or out, and she will never be allowed to function as the mistress of the house.” The woman nodded in eager agreement. Inside the closet were about twelve different dresses, all made for a small woman but in a very childish fashion; they were all a pale blue, sailor-style with a large white, square bib collar with a big bow over the bosom. The dresses were cut straight past waist until mid-thigh, where there was a band of white reflecting the collar which ended in the back in another bow, then a little skirt to hang in pleats to just below the knee.
“The dresser will, by the time Lacy gets here, be full of knee sox and old fashioned bloomers – “
“Split crotch, Sir?” The idea made Estelle shiver.
“Yes.”
She mused, “The bottom lace’ll hang down below her dress just like they do for little girls.”
“I know,” Edward beamed happily. He looked at the inside of the closet door. “I had thought this would be a good place to hang implements?” He was actively soliciting Estelle’s advice, and she was more than happy to give it.
“If you don’t mind my saying so, Sir, I don’t like to hide the implements. A girl needs to see what could be used on her backside if she steps out of line. I would suggest a big oak paddle brush for her dresser – then I can use it on her hair as well as her bum, and it’ll just lay out there every time she’s in her room and she’ll have to live with the knowledge that it’s there for two purposes.”
Edmund bowed to her excellent suggestion. He would do exactly that.
“Nightgowns, Sir?” She had opened a drawer and found none of them.
“I haven’t gotten them yet. I imagine she’ll have some.”
“If I may, Sir, I know a tailor who makes the most wonderful things – they’re almost like a swaddling sack you’d put an infant in. Lacy’s not going to be your bride for a while yet, and you need to make sure that she’s not indulging in things she ought not to indulge in. Many’s the parent that believes that no child should sleep unrestrained, and I find that I’m of that mind myself, Sir, lest they get up to mischief in the night.”
Edmund thought that he was going to explode in his pants as he stood there. This discussion was hell on his control. “If you will but give me the name and tell me how many to order . . . I don’t know about using them all night, but definitely during naps – which should be a daily event. I believe little girls need lots of sleep.”
“I will, Sir.” Efficient as ever, Estelle made a mental note about that. “How do you feel about that, Sir?”
Startled, he asked, “Pardon? Feel about what?”
“Should Lacy be allowed to roam about the house at night ever?”
“Never, Estelle. I’m sure you’ll be able to see to that.”
“Might we acquire some rubber sheets, too, Sir? I’d hate to see these fine linens destroyed if the little miss should have an accident because she’s not allowed out of bed. And some diapers?”
Edmund clucked as if he was scolding Lacy right now. “An excellent idea, Estelle. Those also.”
They moved on to the nursery, which had a large teacher’s desk and chair, and one small student desk which faced it, as well as a blackboard, a globe atlas and a tremendous amount of books. There was also a very interesting piece of equipment at the back of the room - a gymnastics horse over which an itchy, scratchy horse blanked had been thrown. Something beneath the blanket – Edmund pulled it back to explain and expose – which turned out to be several plump pillows which had been tied in place – served to augment the horse’s true purpose. It would never be anything other than something to bend Lacy over so that she could be more thoroughly punished than over her Nanny’s lap. The pillows would force her to stick out her bottom to receive each lick of her chastisement as if she was welcoming it, which she most certainly would not. Thick leather cuffs – well-padded to prevent injury to the restrained part – were already bolted into the floor at the wrist and ankle points, and from where Estelle could see, the ankle cuffs would force little Lacy to reveal absolutely everything to anyone who happened to wander in.
It was a sight very much like that that greeted Edmunds eyes when he came home that day – although Lacy was not over the horse as she had been many times in the past and would be many times in the future, he was sure. But Estelle was an accomplished, professional disciplinarian. She required that when Lacy was receiving a punishment, even one conducted over Nanny Estelle’s lap, that, first of all, she be bared from at least the waist down, and secondly that she remain on her tiptoes with her heels pointed out and her legs well spread.
It was a horrid, horribly exposed position, and even after having been under Nanny Estelle’s rule for more than nine months she still had a terrible time doing what her governess called “presenting”, which was assuming the correct supplicant position in which to receive discipline – heels out, legs well spread, etc – and then to remain in that position, as a proper, submissive young girl should, to receive each and every stinging swat to her bottom. Her feet automatically flew into the air as the ruler or the tawse or the belt or the paddle crashed down onto her tender nates, or her legs closed, or she scissored kicked like mad, only to have Nanny Estelle stop and put her back into position before resuming the punishment.
Edmund was thoroughly enjoying the scene in front of him as his childishly dressed little wife was thoroughly blistered by a woman who by all rights she should have had the ability to hire and fire. But not in his house. In his house, Lacy had no control over the servants.
In his house, Lacy had no control over anything, least of all herself and what happened to her.
If a servant saw the woman they called “the little miss” do something wrong, they were required - under penalty of being fired – to tell either Edmund or her Nanny so that she could be punished. The help was required to call her Lacy, not ma’am or missus, and were encouraged to treat her strictly as a little girl. She was his wife, but she had no access to any of his considerable funds except that which he gave her on a weekly basis, based entirely on how Nanny Estelle reported her behavior to him for that week. If she did not perform well during the four hours of schooling she attended in the Nursery six days a week, if she had to be disciplined too often or wasn’t applying herself or any range of possible things, real or imagined, inside or outside her classroom, then her already meager allowance for someone of her age and purported rank was reduced. In truth she often got no pin money at all because Nanny Estelle had told the man who was her husband but who required her to call him “Papa” that she had been a naughty girl all week and that she didn’t deserve an allowance until she could learn to behave.
Nanny Estelle, of course, would reap the benefits in her own pay packet of whatever funds Lacy might have gotten had she been better behaved.
Right from the start, from the first day she’d been awakened in Edmund’s house, Lacy had been immediately handled by the woman Edmund had told her was to be their chaperone. Only she didn’t act like a chaperone. She acted much more like a governess, leaning towards a nanny for a little girl. Perhaps Edmund had been confused because she was small for her age – except in the breast and bottom department, she frowned – and thought she was younger than she was.
But that first morning, right off the bat, Nanny Estelle had come in at six in the morning and thrown open the curtains of her room. Lacy had groaned loudly at being awakened so early.
“Get up, Lacy. It’s time to get washed up before breakfast. You’ll eat with the Master every morning from now on.” Nanny Estelle had ordered crisply.
“I don’t want to get up right now,” Lacy had made the mistake of merely rolling over in the bed.
In two seconds flat she found herself hauled up and standing by the bed, and seconds later she was naked, the nightgown she’d worn from the night before split down the front by two powerful feminine hands. Lacy was shocked, but she automatically covered herself with her arms, quite desperately when a couple male servants appeared with a washtub and water.
Only once her bath had been set up did Nanny Estelle commanded the ogling men to leave, not bothering about Lacy’s modesty at all, pulling the girl behind her and bullying her into the tub, which, on her own orders was full of coolish water, which Lacy immediately hopped right back out of.
Since she was nude, she was immediately subjected to her first over the knee spanking – the first she’d ever received in her life, and it was a doozy. Nanny Estelle used the flat, broad back of the boar-bristle bath brush she had in her hand and reddened that ample backside as Lacy wailed and screamed like she was being skinned. “When I tell you to do something, you do it. I don’t want any backtalk from you, ever. I am your Nanny, and you will do as I say without question.” She applied fifteen or twenty good, hard cracks to her charge’s virginal bottom, then turned her loose and pointed to the bath with the brush, the threat of more inherent in her stance. “Lacy Hannaford, you get into that tub this instant or I’ll give you such a paddling you’ll never sit down comfortably again!” Nanny Estelle had never raised her voice, but she was almost more threatening that way.
Confused and still sobbing as her bottom throbbed horribly from that first assault, Lacy did as she was told, only to have to stand and sit in that cool water and be scrubbed all over until her flesh was raw with that horrid brush – the governess concentrated a lot on her recently tenderized bottom, just as a reminder.
When Nanny Estelle deemed that she was clean – after having delved into terribly intimate places on her body over Lacy’s strident verbal objections, which had elicited another threat of the brush from the older woman until she complied with the intimate probings – she helped Lacy out of the tub and then rubbed her down, powdered her liberally with baby powder, then dressed her head to toe as Edmund preferred: one of the childish dresses from the closet, white knee sox, soft black leather flats, and a huge bow in her long blonde hair.