Christmas Day, 1842

Seventeen-year-old Victoria stood in the vast kitchen of Hometown Hall with the other servant girls. The large, oak preparation table in the middle of the room was empty and as clean as a new pin. The 1842 Christmas Day meal had been prepared, served, eaten, most of the washing-up had been done, and nearly all the utensils were in their proper place. The female staff were assembled for their daily 10.00 pm briefing which was convened essentially to run through the list of chores needed before bedtime and so that everything was ready for the following day. Mrs Beecham, the Head of Domestics, was stood in her usual place by the cooking range, ready to speak. She was the typical, buxom, no-nonsense woman one associated with running a team of servants, and had been in the service of the Earl of Hometown since her early teens. She knew all there was to know about life at the Hall and, indeed, what was expected of the servant girls in its employ.

As she began, all the girls could tell from the tone of her voice that Mrs Beecham was in a bit of a mood, and even though it was Christmas Day, this usually indicated that at least one of the girls would be asked to report to the kitchen at 11.00 pm for a ‘walloping’. It wasn’t a very regular occurrence, but Mrs Beecham did occasionally have to discipline the girls, either because they had been idle, careless or rude. Wallopings took place in the private surrounds of the kitchen larder, where a wooden stick about two and a half feet long and a good half an inch thick hung on a hook, waiting to be applied to the bare bottom of errant maids, even on Christmas Day.

****

Victoria was a slim girl, quite tall for her age, with black hair that dropped down to her shoulders. She was quite slim and had pretty much an hourglass figure. She had arrived at Hometown Hall two months earlier, having been put forward for the vacant position of kitchen maid by her aunt. Her aunt had known Mrs Beecham since they were little girls in the same village. Victoria had always had a talent for cooking and had picked up her abilities from her mum, grandma and aunt. Everyone in her village was well-acquainted with her baking skills and so it was no surprise that she was eventually employed full-time at Hometown Hall. It was a dream come true for the seventeen-year-old.

Victoria’s uniform, whilst on duty, consisted of a mob cap made from a circle of white cotton, gathered with a drawstring, so her hair was tucked neatly away, a plain, light blue blouse and a long, dark navy skirt with a wide navy belt. Over the top, she wore a white apron and on her feet were standard black lace-up boots. Her black stockings were held in position with two black garter belts tied around her thighs, and she had a pair of cream drawers made of thin cotton which provided some modesty under her skirt.

She shared a bedroom in the attic of the Hall with Anna and Emily, two other kitchen maids. They had both been very welcoming, had shown her the ropes, and were always around to share a joke, which made the kitchen a pleasant place to work. They all worked long hours, from 4.00 am when fires needed to be lit to heat the ovens until 11.00 pm, or later, when the last members of the household had gone to bed and everything was washed, put away and the kitchen readied for the following day.

Despite her generally, friendly and good-natured disposition, Mrs Beecham had a firm side to her, and Victoria knew that she gave out very firm, painful wallopings when necessary. Anna and Emily had both experienced them and said that they were to be avoided as much as possible, whilst accepting that at some point everyone would get one. Indeed, in her second week at the Hall, during a 10.00 pm meeting, one of the scullery maids, Joanne, had been invited to join Mrs Beecham at 11.00 pm in the larder, because of her substandard work. Victoria was on duty in the kitchen until late that day and was sitting at the table in the middle of the kitchen when Joanne, a girl in her mid-twenties with a hard exterior and colder heart entered. As she entered the kitchen, she glared at Victoria and didn’t seem to be that bothered about her impending punishment.

“It’ll be your turn one day,” she said. “So you’d better prepare your cute little bottom for the stick.”

Joanne smirked at Victoria as Mrs Beecham appeared, and was taken directly into the larder. The subsequent spanking could be heard through the closed, solid oak door and each stroke was accompanied by a suitable yelp or grunt of contrition as discipline was administered. Joanne emerged after what Victoria had counted as six strokes. She disappeared without making eye contact and headed up the back stairs to the servants’ quarters, walking more gingerly than when she had arrived and rubbing her bottom occasionally.

****

Early on Christmas Day morning, Victoria was on duty in the kitchen and was very giddy and excited; her first Christmas at the Hall was such a thrill. One of the footmen, James, who had taken a shine to her, popped into the kitchen on his way to fetch some shoe polish. Victoria was in a flirty mood and she danced a solo waltz around the kitchen to impress him, but, in doing so, she over-balanced and knocked a bowl of six eggs onto the floor just as Mrs Beecham entered. The bowl shattered, the eggs cracked and the kitchen floor looked a mess. Mrs Beecham was less than impressed.

“For goodness sake, girl. That would not have happened if you were not being so silly,” Mrs Beecham snarled and glared at the footman.

James beat a hasty retreat as he didn’t want to get mixed up in the repercussions. If the butler found out he had been in the kitchen without good reason he would have been on the end of a whipping.

“Those eggs will be replaced out of your wages,” Mrs Beecham continued. She was clearly furious.

“Yes, ma’am,” Victoria responded.

“You’ve done well so far with your duties but, honestly, you need to behave better than this. Your silly behaviour has set the baking back at least half an hour, time which we can ill-afford, and on Christmas Day, of all days.”

“I’m sorry, really sorry,” Victoria mumbled.

“I am sure you are, but we will need to have a little chat later.”

“Yes ma’am.” Victoria gulped. Deep down she knew what was coming.

“Now, clean up this mess and fetch another bowl and another six eggs from the larder, young lady. Pay close attention while you are in there, as it won’t be your last visit today, mark my words.” Mrs Beecham was clearly very cross.

Victoria scurried around and, after clearing up the mess on the floor, she fetched the eggs from the larder. She paused inside to look at the oak table which was up against the far wall, and the ‘walloping stick’ which was hung on the same wall just to the left hand side. She gulped as she looked at it and a shudder ran down her spine. There was a distinct tingle in her bottom.

****

So the 10.00 pm meeting on that Christmas day started with the list of the usual chores. It concluded, as the girls had expected from Mrs Beecham’s tone, with the announcement that Victoria was to report back to the kitchen at 11.00 pm for a walloping, for careless behaviour in the kitchen. The room was quiet as everyone looked at Victoria. The mood then lightened somewhat as Mrs Beecham dismissed them all with a relatively jovial ‘Merry Christmas’ and thanked them all for their hard work in making the festivities upstairs such a success.

Once dismissed, the servants all departed either to bed or to their duties and one could hear the gossip regarding Victoria’s spanking. Anna and Emily took Victoria aside and asked for the details of what had happened. Victoria explained everything and the girls said that she would probably get four strokes in the larder, on her bare bottom, bent over the table. Victoria looked nervous but it was pretty much what she had feared. She had no further duties so went upstairs to her room to wait for her 11.00 pm appointment.

At about a quarter to eleven, Emily arrived to find Victoria sitting on her bed rubbing her hands together in nervous anticipation. She gave her a cuddle and assured her it would be alright and that she’d live to fight another day. She told her that Mrs Beecham had asked her to explain what was expected.

“You need to take your drawers off before you go down,” Emily stated. “Wallopings are always on the bare bottom, so when you are invited into the larder, lift your skirt out of the way and bend over the table. Mrs Beecham will help you get into the right position as this is your first time.”

Victoria nodded, lifted her skirt and removed her drawers, folding them neatly on the bed.

“Try to remain in position,” Emily continued. “And don’t stand up until she says you can or she will give you extras.”

“Thanks,” replied Emily.

“Good luck.”

****

Victoria used the back stairs and arrived in the kitchen with two minutes to spare. Anna was on duty finishing some late washing-up and their eyes met.

Anne mouthed, “Good luck,” just as Mrs Beecham arrived.

“Right, into the larder, young lady,” Mrs Beecham commanded, in her authoritative tone and clearly in no mood to waste any time.

They entered the larder and the heavy oak door was closed firmly and ominously behind them.

“Hitch up your skirt and bend over the table,” Mrs Beecham directed.

Victoria hitched her dress up and bent over with her bare bottom on show. Mrs Beecham was pleased that Emily had clearly briefed the girl, so she got to work folding the girl’s skirt over her back and gently easing her forward so that she was able to grasp the far edge of the table. Her elbows were flat on the table, back low down and her legs were straight. Her bare bottom, feeling the cold air of the larder, was sticking out, in an inelegant manner, but was definitely well presented.

“Four strokes for carelessness, young lady.”

With that pronouncement, Mrs Beecham took a good look at the firm, creamy white bottom in front of her and noted that there was plenty of flesh to take the four stokes, with enough room to avoid overlap. The black stockings made a lovely contrast to the pale skin and were neatly tied around the thighs. She felt sorry for the girl, but discipline was important and a line had to be drawn somewhere; well four lines in this case, she chuckled to herself.

Victoria turned her head to see the stick being taken off the wall. Mrs Beecham moved to Victoria’s left hand side, placed the stick horizontally across her bare bottom, just above centre, touching the skin lightly, as she took careful aim. She wasn’t going to thrash her too hard, but she would make sure the girl would be sore for a day or two. She moved her arm back so it was about halfway between waist and shoulder height and Victoria braced herself.

The stick was swung forward, horizontally, at pace, and CRACK, the sound echoed off the larder walls like a gun shot. Initially, Victoria felt nothing, and then there was a sudden pain right across her bottom which spread its heat out. She gave an involuntary grunt but the pain was too much. She rose to try and rub her bottom.

“Back in position, madam!” Mrs Beecham instructed, tapping the table with the stick.

The pain was still there, but easing just a little, as Victoria, with help, managed to assume the position again. Her bottom again sticking out but now sporting a straight red line right across it. Mrs Beecham smiled. ‘Not too hard, but it would be sore,’ she thought.

“If you stand again I will add extras, so stay down and grip the far edge of the table which will help you stay in place.”

Again, Mrs Beecham drew the stick back.

CRACK, the second stroke was below the first, right across the centre of the bottom and a line parallel to the first was imprinted on the white flesh. Victoria grasped the table hard trying not to stand and let out a yelp which would have been heard in the kitchen and probably beyond. The white bottom turned pink around the straight ridges which were beginning to stand proud.

With a enough time between strokes to allow the pain to settle, the third stroke, CRACK, bit below the previous two, about halfway between the centre of the bottom and the crease where the young girl’s bottom met her legs. Victoria desperately held on with another yelp and gasp emanating from her mouth. She was struggling and was doing her best not to rub her bottom, although she wanted to try to put out the fire which was burning her bottom.

CRACK, the final stroke caught her in the crease where the bottom and legs met and Victoria cried out, wriggled her bottom frantically, her knuckles turning white from gripping the table. Her legs were shaking but she had indeed survived, just. She was crying a little, gritting her teeth and praying to hear that it was over.

Mrs Beecham looked at the four stripes across the girl’s bottom and was pleased with her accuracy and strength. She knew from experience the marks would not last for too long, maybe a day or two, and be definitely sore. It was a good lesson for this promising young lass, she thought.

“Up you get, Victoria. We are all done here.”

Victoria was thankful it was just the four strokes, and stood up very carefully. Her dress fell over her bottom and she winced as the material caught the recently punished flesh.

“Thank you, ma’am,” she whispered, not wanting to look Mrs Beecham in the eye.

“You are welcome, Victoria. You are a promising young cook and I have high hopes, but silly behaviour will not be tolerated. I do not expect to have to bring you in here again for another walloping. Am I clear?”

“Very clear, Mrs Beecham,” Victoria sobbed a little more, partly out of relief and partly through pain.

Mrs Beecham replaced the stick on the wall.

Victoria left the larder and grimaced at Anna as she passed by, a few tears still rolling down her cheeks. Her friend looked on sympathetically, knowing just what it felt like. Once upstairs, Victoria took her skirt off and showed Emily the four, straight, dark red ridges which were now looking very angry across her backside. The rest of her bottom was red or bright pink where the strokes had spread out their anger and it all looked pretty sore.

“We’ve all been there, Victoria. It’s not pleasant but I guess it comes with the territory.”

Victoria lay on her bed, on her tummy, so her bottom could cool down. She didn’t want anything at all in contact with it. Anna arrived in the room after her late night chores and sympathised with Victoria. She looked at the chastised backside. “It won’t be as sore in the morning,” she offered up words of hope, as she too climbed into bed.

These were words of some comfort to Victoria and as the girls put their candles out, the room went dark. It wasn’t quite how Victoria had wanted her first Christmas at the Hall to end. However, they all wished each other a ‘Merry Christmas’, which caused them all to giggle, even Victoria. She did have some lovely friends and she had definitely learned her lesson.

(For those not aware, the term ‘drawers’ refers to baggy underwear worn by women many years ago)

The End

© Colin Brooks 2024

Colin is happy to be contacted and take feedback from his stories: colinbrookscp@gmail.com.