The Missing Maid
A Tawse Hall Mystery
By
Lisa
Chapter 3
Chapter 3
Dr Louise Strict’s work was receiving ever more attention. In the 90’s and 00’s when things seemed to be going ok talk of a need for a more disciplined society seemed like an echo from a bygone age. All that talk of legalising drugs and extending pub opening hours as if to drink and get stoned was a basic human right. But her book, The Price of Freedom, had found its moment. It is hard to know exactly why. From both left and right, above and below there seemed to be a feeling that the freedom without responsibility we had enjoyed had gone too far. Whether it was greedy bankers presiding over a crisis of their own making, or rioters showing their anger not through protest but blatant theft, the evidence seem to be there for people. Dr Strict’s ideas, that individual freedom had become divorced from personal responsibility, and this could be seen as the root of much of what was wrong, had an audience. She argued that the freedom being offered did not even succeed in bringing happiness to those who enjoyed it. It was a meaningless drug that sought only greater excess.
Her ideas had brought much attention, but along with supporters it had brought critics. Most were honest, and simply did not agree, but there were those who went way beyond this. She had had to transform from a successful business woman and academic into something much more media savvy. That evening she prepared for the appearance she would be making on News Review. It was a big chance, the chance to cross swords with her detractors, to challenge the complacent politicians. She could feel a little tension. This surprised her; she was not the nervous type. But since Agnes had left, disappeared, she had not felt entirely relaxed. She knew that the world of Tawse Hall was hard for many to understand. A society built on respect enforced with corporal punishment attracted both ridicule and suspicion. It was not the TV debate that she making her tense, more the sense that she had begun to move beyond the world she knew. She had to do for the sake of her work, but sometimes this came at a price. As she climbed into bed she thought about her new maid, and also about the one who had gone. It was a big bed and in that moment she missed having somebody to share that with.
Lisa enjoyed a pleasant dinner with the other staff. Even Shona seemed to be in a better mood now and Mrs Scolding was a very good cook. A couple of times William made some rather clumsy attempts to flirt but Mr Welt quickly put him in his place.
‘You mess around with her Will you will be grateful if it is only my strap you feel across your backside.’ Shona gave an evil laugh at this and William said nothing more for the rest of the meal.
The others went to watch television but Lisa was tired and went to bed. Sleep would not come though, there were too many thoughts running through her mind. By the time she dozed off it was well past midnight and her dreams were full of images of Shona’s bottom, of Ms Strict's study. Lisa was slightly disturbed that these dreams seemed to bring a sort of warm arousal.
She had set her alarm early and made sure that she was immaculate in her uniform and on bang on time for her first proper day. A six thirty precisely she knocked on Ms Strict’s bedroom door and went in. Ms Strict was already awake, sat up in bed, working from a laptop.
‘Good morning Lisa, I am ready for my bath now.’
The bathroom was huge and luxurious, with thick white towels, expensive perfumes and oils. Lisa prepared the bath as she had been instructed. She took her Mistress’s gown and night dress, sliding both gently from her body as Louise stretched to great the day.
‘Thank you Lisa.’ The voice was warm.
There for the first time Lisa saw her Mistress naked, her big mature body, the large breasts with huge brown nipples and oh that bottom. Lisa tried to push naughty thoughts to the back of her mind, thoughts of her burying her face in that big soft body, being folded into her mistress’s arms. She had her job to do. She gently bathed her, washing her breasts, thighs, hair. She could not look Louise in the eye as she set about her task. She was flushed red, as she knew Louise’s gaze did not leave her.
Louise lay back smiling. Lisa had been a good choice. ‘I do not want you to get your uniform wet. Tomorrow you will bath me naked.’ Lisa’s hands shook slightly as she washed Louise’s feet and calves.
‘Lisa, very good but you need to wash between my legs.’ She could see the girl hesitate but knew she would comply. Louise opened her thighs to reveal what lay between, that big mature pussy that had now woken up to the younger girls caresses. Lisa’s hands were gentle, soaping between her legs. Louise would have loved to let her carryon but it was too soon and she had a lot to do.
‘Oh mm, thank you Lisa that is enough. One day I will let you finish the job.’
‘Yes Ma’am.’
The poor girl was beetroot red now, but it was not only embarrassment that Louise could hear in Lisa’s voice. She knew the girl was hot.
Lisa wrapped her mistress in one of the big fluffy towels and dried her carefully, kneeling before her to dry her bottom, between her legs and her feet. When Louise was satisfied they returned to the bedroom for Lisa to dress her. Kneeling before her Mistress, rolling on her silk stockings, fastening the suspenders, sliding on her knickers, easing those wonderful breasts into a bra, sensing the heat of her body as she did so it felt so special. Then she dressed her in a dark blue business suit for the day, placing her mistress's choice of shoes at her feet to step into. Lisa had discovered something, something deep inside. Serving this woman like this felt right for her. She felt right.
‘That was a good start Lisa. Maybe I will be able to forego caning you on Friday. Now bring me my breakfast.’
Lisa thrilled at the praise from her Mistress but the reminder of what was hanging over her was unwelcome. She had tried to forget the threat of the cane and her mental image of Shona’s poor bottom.
After the breakfast Ms Strict went to her study to begin the day’s business. This was a routine that Lisa would soon become used to. She would then clean and tidy the bedroom and join Shona in cleaning the rest of the house until she was wanted again at 1.00 to attend to her Mistress.
Shona seemed transformed from the surly character she had first met. Maybe that is what happens when you are caned. It takes a few days to get over it. Shona was generous in showing Lisa what needed to be done and volunteered to help her prepare the Mistresses private rooms. Lisa was glad of the help. Maybe she and Shona would become friends. She did not have many mates and certainly none she could see easily during the week.
Around 10.00, as she was dusting in the main dining room she saw an anonymous grey car pull up and a slightly shabby looking man come to the door. Mr Welt welcomed him coolly and took him up stairs to Lisa assumed, the study.
Ms Strict was just starting to get annoyed about her visitors lateness when there was a tap at the door.
‘Yes Welt?’
‘You appointment Ma’am, Mr Figgings’.
She beckoned him in. Howard Figgings was not somebody she liked or approved of but he had a job to do and was by all accounts good at it. He was in his 50’s with the air of a defrocked clergyman or school teacher. The kind who got caught fiddling the petty cash or letting their hands wander.
‘Your report please.’
Figgings sighed. ‘May I smoke? He took out a packet, a cheap brand.
‘Don’t be ridiculous, your report please’
He sighed again, and returned the cigarettes to his pocket.
‘Ok, Ok. This has not been easy and I have incurred a lot of expenses.’ It was Ms Strict’s turn to sigh.
‘I did not ask you how hard it was, I want to know what you have achieved in exchange for your fee and those expenses you have incurred.’
‘Well, London is a big city and there is no shortage of eastern European prostitutes. But given what you told me about Agnes I guessed that she would be working in what shall we say, the specialist market. So in my disguise as a sleazy middle-aged man that likes slippering school girls’ bottoms I started making some enquiries.’
‘Go on.’
‘Well if you are ever near Baker Street there is a lovely little thing going by the name Talia I can strongly recommend. The Russian accent does rather take the edge off the English school girl persona but she has a lovely spankable....’
‘Mr Figgings I am not interested in you escapades with Talia or any other random girl unfortunate enough to come across you ‘in disguise’. Have you found out anything pertinent to what I am paying you for?’
‘Yes. But it is not good. Does the name Bastion Rohrstock mean anything to you?’
‘No, should it?’
‘No, it is a name most people come to regret knowing. Rohrstock is basically a people trafficker and a nasty one. He pretends to be German but that is a reinvention. He grew up in Serbia during the collapse of Yugoslavia. He was one of those people who thrived on the chaos and suffering. He is both a violent sadist and now sadly very rich.’
Ms Strict did not say anything but felt a chill run through her body.
‘Agnes is somehow involved in his organisation. I assume as a working girl.’
‘But Agnes would not sell herself.’
‘I cannot comment on that, but with Rohrstock's methods she would not exactly be required to volunteer. Anyway, on the upside I met a girl who had seen her 2 weeks ago and she was alive and well. However this girl did not know where Agnes was now. She may be working in London, she maybe anywhere in the country by now. The interesting thing is that as you told me, Agnes’ papers are legit. She was not trafficked here, she did not need to. Poland is part of the EU. So she could be anywhere.’
‘What do you suggest Mr Figgings’?
The meeting concluded shortly before 11, and Mr Figgings went on his way. Around 12.00 Ms Strict went to back to her private rooms to get ready for a Lunch appointment in Thrashwell. She was going to catch up with her old friend Gemma Scully.
As she walked into the bedroom she sniffed the air, something was very wrong, she recognised that smell straight away. She opened the bathroom door to be confronted by the sight of Lisa holding a lighted cigarette in one hand and a packet of 10 in the other.
‘Ma’am, I am sorry’ was all the wretched girl could manage.
