Chapter 8

The call from her husband to say Hanspacker was coming down for the weekend reminded the good lady of that day when she had first been shown around her prized and beloved new home. That had been the day she had vowed to have the floor in the ballroom polished until she could see her face in it. And still the room was shut and unused with that lovely floor unpolished and sorry looking as on the day she had arrived. A determined Dorothy resolved that this oversight must be immediately rectified.

The Girl was working in the garden when this happy thought came to her Mistress. The gardens were looking marvellous by now, although she was still being distracted from the truly creative side of things by the need to keep the falling leaves clear of the lawns and paths. Mrs Bottomley's eagle eye never failed to miss any leaves which were allowed to lie for more than a few minutes (with the usual painful consequences for her by now toughened arse). Suddenly the Mistress, under the influence of some kind of brainstorm, flew out of the building and dashed over to the Girl, seizing her by the ear and dragging her squealing indoors and up a flight of stairs into a room she had never been allowed into before.

Releasing the Girl from the painful grip, she pointed at the floor.

"I want that floor to SPARKLE before the day is out. If I can't see my face in any and every part of it, then woe betide you, Slave!"

"What do I use to polish it with, Mistress" quavered the astounded Girl, surveying the huge expanse of floor. "Is there an electric polisher?"

"There is, but not for you! You get on your knees and polish it all by hand. Sweep it first and then POLISH it! Afraid of a bit of hard work, even after all I have tried to teach you? Have you still no self respect. Do you still expect to drift idly through life without making any effort at all?"

"No, Mistress. I will do as you say and it will be as you wish before the day is done."

Miss Huskisson bustled in with cloths, polish and a broom. The Girl was left to her Herculean labour, being told, to the vigorous accompaniment of a parting punch in the stomach from Husskisson, that she would not eat or drink until it was done.

It was not until nine that evening that the floor was finished. The Girl was faint from hunger and almost dying of thirst. Her arms ached as they had never ached before. The job would have taken hours with an electric polisher, but by hand it had been a task more exhausting than any she had been given so far. Even so, the place had definitely been transformed and she felt a certain satisfaction as she looked at her face, sweating and framed by damp golden hair, and her bare arms and breasts looking back at her from the polished surface that was her own doing!.

All should have been well, and the Mistress ought to have been forced to concede that her original dream had been brought to glorious fruition by the Girl's sterling efforts. Unfortunately, the Girl in her tiredness, had neglected to gather up all the cloths and one was left just inside the door.

This door burst open and Dorothy Bottomley strode in, her face lighting up with a beam of joy. She was about to congratulate the Girl and give her some reward. The Girl saw the danger to her Mistress, but too late. Her warning sang out just as one of Dorothy's feet laded plumb on the duster! The startled Mistress slid yards along the floor on one leg before her ample bum hit the ground with what the Girl's sensitive ears recognised to be a classic example of the "Sickening Thud"

Still under the sway of inertia, the Mistress continued to slide rapidly along the slippery surface of the newly polished floor until she was brought short by the wall at the other end of the room. In the minutes it took the shaken Mistress to recover the Girl managed to cut short a peal of laughter, but not before the Bottomley had heard it. The Girl hastened to go to the Mistress's assistance and helped the good stout lady to her feet. Her solicitousness did her no good, however. That screech of laughter had gone neither unnoticed nor un-forgiven!

"Go to the Kitchen and ask Miss Huskisson to beat you. Then go to the pantry and ask Jenkins to beat you and then go to the garden and ask Fitch to beat you. He's working late tonight. Then come back here and get another beating from me! Off with you - slut! A joke, was it? Let's hear you laughing after we've all of us done with you!"

"It isn't fair! I worked really hard all day and I almost killed myself to make that floor so nice. Beat me if you like, but I'll not go around asking for it to be done. That is wrong of you! I'm sorry I laughed, though. You could have been hurt and I was careless."

Dorothy went white with anger. How dare the Girl talk back to her like that! She seized her ear again and dragged out into the garden.

"Fitch! This is a disobedient Girl. I want her to be punished. I believe you have a horse whip in your shed. Get it and use it on her. I want to see the blood run down her back."

"Go to Hell, you old devil. I'll not be party to that." replied Fitch to both Dorothy's and the Girl's amazement "You've gone too far - you'll pay a heavy price if you mark that Girl for life. You may as well know that! I'll kill you with these bare hands if a whip ever touches her sweet lovely skin, no matter who uses it on her. So help me I will."

For the first time since taking charge of the Castle, Dorothy weakened. She began to see that she had maybe slightly overstepped the mark this time.

"Very well, Fitch. Just use the belt as usual. Oh - and don't bother turning up for work again. You're fired! See to the Girl with that belt, or you do not get your last wages. The Girl can do the garden from now on. She has been doing most of the work, in any case, ever since she got here."

With this she returned inside to nurse her bruised bottom and even more bruised ego.

"So it's goodbye dear old Fitch" said the Girl putting her soft and rounded arms around his neck and kissing him.

"You'd better use your belt properly, or you won't get paid. I'll make sure you get your reward one day for being better to me than any of the others. I mean that. I can't explain how, although I think you may be able to work it out if you think really hard!"

"I won't ever lay hands on you again, my dear. Or on the wife. I only hit her when I'm drunk anyways and I won't be able to afford to drink any longer! Goodbye, for now. Why don't you leave - I can't make you out, putting up with the way they treat you. Whatever you were fleeing from can't be as bad as this! If you ever did decide to walk out, we'd give you clothes and shelter until you got yourself sorted out. You know that!"

The Girl laughed and bent over, presenting her much abused rump ready for Fitch's final chastisement.

"Don't be so silly, Fitch. You need the money and so does your wife. I don't mind a bit - not from you! She's watching - don't hold anything back or you won't get a penny out of the old bitch!"

A calmer Dorothy watched as Fitch removed his trusty leather belt for the last time and did as the Mistress and the Girl had both told him. She watched his arm rise and fall until the old fellow looked fit to collapse from exhaustion. He was an old man, after all. She went over to her bureau and took out some money and went out into the gardens, up to the pair of them, the Girl and the old man, the one bent submissively over and the other still doing his by now unwelcome duty.