Chapter 1

The isolated rural village of Sims on Riverside was recovering from a viral epidemic that decimated the ranks of the older residents as well as a number of the health care workers tending their needs in the single hospital in the area.

One of those unfortunate deceased was the Goodwife Malone. The seasoned nurse was well-known for her tireless efforts in curing the sick and spending countless hours walking the wards of the local hospital. She was familiar sight in her customary black worn because of the early demise of her railroad engineer husband. Patrick Malone was caught unawares by a faulty feeder valve in the engine car on Number Twenty-seven. It was a dependable “town to city” train that was famous for always being on time for every run, no matter how bad the weather.

It would have been a simple tragedy, except for the fact that with her passing, five young children were thrown into the category of “indigent” orphans without a home or money to cover their basic expenses. Needless to say, they were necessarily broken up to various homes without much say from any of them on the matter. The four oldest were disposed of in record time since they were sturdy lads and lasses with lots of experience in tending chores on a farm. The youngest one was a bit of a horse of another color because she was just a slip of a thing prone to daydreaming and dancing in the light of the moon, on the slightest excuse that came her way.

Her name was Molly and she was fast on her feet and quick on her toes.

None of the farm folk was interested in adding her to their households because they suspected she would be more trouble than she was worth at a time when hard work was of the utmost importance for survival. One farmer actually looked at her teeth and felt her arm and leg muscles like he was buying a brood mare for his inventory of working horses in the stable.

In fact, the only one of the parishioners that had the slightest bit of interest in young Molly was the appointed court judge, Sir Jeffrey Rutherford. Sir Jeffrey was a bachelor and it was rumored that he was a widower twice in his lifetime already and that he hesitated to take the plunge another time for fear he would become a pariah of a trice cursed husband and avoided by any future bride with the slightest shred of common sense.

It was known in the general region that he was a man of a generous construct and that he had established a training school for young ladies to prepare them for the realities of the world and to seek employment of a respectable nature not subject to sinful behavior in any form. He established strict rules of conduct and maintained full control and discipline personally attended to by his own hand and with a vigor that did him credit as a truly concerned patron of feminine refinement. The merest hint of sexual impropriety of any category was avoided to preserve the reputation of both Sir Jeffrey and the school for young ladies.

Of course, young Molly was too young for this advanced school of behavior modification, but he envisioned her as a sort of junior intern in a pre-educational program of her very own. The older girls took the blossoming orphan under their wing and showed her all the tricks of fitting into approved society and pleasing their mentor, Sir Jeffrey.

She was insulated in her program for a full year with no demand made on her because of her tender years before there was any necessity to prove her worth to her new guardian.

It was shortly after her sixteenth birthday that she was introduced to the demands of making amends for violations of the strict rules set down by the master of the young ladies training school. In a certain sense, Molly welcomed the new status of her developing role under the Generous Man’s kind attentions and she felt a degree of gratitude that sent tingles down to her hidden feminine folds of a magnitude seldom attained in one so young or, in fact, in that particular gender.

Despite her unforgivable weakness of extreme shyness and overly obsessive modesty, she obeyed her instructions to remove all clothing and present her unadorned backside for correction in the hour before tea with proper attention to cleansing her nether regions and removing all wisps of hair from her virginal female folds. It seemed a bit silly to her because her mother had a full bush as did all of the older female children that she was in close contact with prior to admission to Sir Jeffrey’s loving care in his special training academy for young ladies.

Molly’s first spanking session was pure and utter chaos.

She squirmed and she cried. She twisted and she pleaded. Nothing worked to change Sir Jeffrey’s mind. He was firm in his conviction that the girl needed discipline to make her toe the mark of a well-behaved young lady. Molly was desperate to please and she literally bent over backwards to present the most inspired of angles for Sir Jeffrey’s ministrations. Eventually, with most of the other girls in attendance, the young impoverished orphan was rewarded with a reddened posterior and a smile of sheer bliss as her virginal channel responded in the age old tingle of pride and satisfaction in joining the ranks of the exclusive school for young ladies under the full control and mentoring guidance of a most generous man.

Now, Molly was introduced to the classes that instructed her on the proper ways to fully satisfy the opposite sex with little thought to their own pleasures and devices. The girls were prohibited from the use of cosmetic aids to enhance their physical appearance for male appreciation. They did not hesitate to inform their youngest addition to their ranks that both oral and anal exercises were permissible, but their vaginal channels were to remain pure and virginal whist a ward of Sir Jeffrey and a resident of the secluded school. The girls were pampered and well-fed in their single communal sleeping quarters and would often walk the wooden floors at night in naked splendor, since no males were allowed up the spiral staircase. In retrospect, it resembled a scene from some sort of institution of witchcraft, but of course such a thought was anathema to decent thinking by folks of a God-fearing inclination.