Ruled by the Rod Read Online Free PDF

took no care that I should feel my
chastisement to the last degree, as a truly repentant female
should.
    As Marion's
hand gently drew a warm and soapy flannel through the divide of my
buttocks, wiping away the ooze from my anus, she and I exchanged
looks that told each other of our understanding, and mutely made
compact to leave Charlotte ignorant of the nature of our hidden
service, until her own time came to partake.
     
    For the next
few days our daily routine, including the freezing douche under the
stable pump each dawn, continued to take its usual course
including, naturally, a summons for Charlotte to attend on papa,
two evenings after my own visit, for she had last been corrected
about seven days before, and papa held that a woman left unwhipped
for more than a week had fallen so far into the devil's clutches
that she could only be reclaimed by such a flogging as to render
her unable to ease her soul by full and proper labour, and he had
too much affection for his daughters to risk the need to subject
them to such a deprivation.
    When Charlotte
returned from her correction she seemed in some distress of mind,
as well as of body. It did not take long to discover that she had
been disconcerted by papa's need to use her buttocks to draw out
the troubling matter in his body. I saw then the infinite wisdom of
our protector, in choosing to confer the privilege of such service
on Marion and myself first, before offering Charlotte the same
benison. Our middle sister had always been the slowest to
understand the deeply religious and philosophical basis for the
disciplines we lived under, and by making us privy to his thinking
first, he was able to ensure that we would be able, and from
experience, to explain to our slower sister the benefits we both
conferred, and had conferred on us in return. By the time we had
treated her hurts, and soothed her sores, Charlotte was able to
accept the truth of what he taught as readily as we did
ourselves.
     
    Two days later
we saw the first results of our visit to the saddler, a visit whose
purpose had escaped us up until now. A boy on a pony delivered a
package, which Marion took straight to papa. When she returned a
little later she still bore the package, although now it had been
opened, presumably so that papa could satisfy himself that the
contents were as he prescribed.
    Marion invited
us to remove our drawers, reaching down at the same time to draw
off, and discard, her own. Reaching into the package she drew out,
and distributed, three sets of curious restraints. Each consisted
of a pair of leather lined steel bands, joined by a short length of
chain. Each band was engraved with an M, an A, or a C, to identify
the wearer for whom it was intended, and I remembered that Mr Foxis
had measured us most particularly round every conceivable part of
our bodies.
    Marion
explained.
    It appeared
that papa had consulted with various learned friends on the
troublesome effects of the female presence in a house of Godliness,
and had been advised, amongst other things, to reduce our physical
mobility as far as was compatible with allowing us the beneficial
influence of hard work on our domestic duties. 'Papa said,' she
went on, 'that all the authorities agree it is lack of restraint
that contributes most to the waywardness of women and, hence, to
the debilitation and degradation of men they come into contact
with. We are therefore to clasp the bands around our lower limbs,
just below the knee, where we garter our stockings. The chain will
then ensure we do not betray our womanhood by striding like a man,
or running at any time.'
    We each donned
our allotted restraint, and tried the effect of walking. It was
possible, with care, to walk fairly freely about the kitchen,
simulating the performance of typical duties, but one's progress
was slow unless one made very rapid steps.
    Ascending
stairs was an entirely different matter, and at first we were
baffled by the problem. But a little trial and error