Content warnings for this story (click here for guide):
Rosaline was led into a room hung with maroon drapes. In the spaces between the swagged brocade, many paintings were hung. Not art, mind. No, she’d seen plenty of art on her travels, and this was very much not that.
On one wall, she saw a print of a naked Japanese lady being groped by an octopus. Across from this, two Roman women were disrobing each other. Moving round the wall, she saw a grinning woman thrusting a wooden phallus into herself. On and on it went: genitals, lascivious smiles, animalistic acts… she could hardly take her eyes off the collection.
“Smut,” she grumbled, as Carlson sat her down on a chaise.
“I’m sorry?”
“All of this. It’s obscene.”
“Why, thank you,” said Carlson. “It cost me enough to find even prints of some of these. I would be disappointed to find them in a local auction.”
Rosaline tossed her hair and rested her chin on her hand, determined not to pay the pictures any more attention.
There was a knock at the door and Polly entered with a little leather suitcase.
“Thank you darling,” said Carlson. “Oh, and did you find –?”
“Oh yes,” she said, digging into the pocket of her robe and handed him a pot of cream. “Found it upstairs. It’s what they use on little ‘uns when they’ve got a rash. Should be just the thing for Miss Bannister’s sore bottom.”
Rosaline shot her a glare. “Don’t you talk about me like that, you little –”
“Now now,” said Carlson. “That’s no way to thank your new sister here at the Velvet Chamber. And after she’s gone to such trouble. Show your gratitude like the lady you say you are.”
“Ugh,” Rosaline grimaced. “Do I have to?”
“Unless you want me to pull down your drawers and give Polly a repeat show?”
Rosaline’s eyes widened. Polly drummed her fingernails on the door frame, trying not to chuckle.
“Fine! Thank you!” Rosaline blurted, and turned away.
“Oh, I think we can do better than that,” said Carlson. “Perhaps our new apprentice is a little out of sorts because of her stinging bottom, Polly dear.”
He grabbed Rosaline by the shoulders, causing her to squeak indignantly, then lifted her to her feet and held her still.
“Polly, could I trouble you to show Miss Bannister how to apply the soothing cream?”
“What? NO!” Rosaline struggled, but Carlson’s wiry arms held her firmly. “NO! Not her!”
“With pleasure,” said Polly, striding merrily over. She lifted Rosaline’s prim skirt and tucked it up, then pulled down her knickers.
“Get your grubby hands OFF ME!” yelled Rosaline.
“Good grief, do you want me to gag her or something?” said Polly, a pained expression on her face.
“Excellent idea,” said Mr Carlson. “She is getting herself a little worked up, isn’t she?”
“NO! Don’t you DARE –” squealed Rosaline, as Polly found an old stocking, balled it up and shoved it into her complaining mouth. She wrapped a strip of cloth around Rosaline’s mouth to hold it in place and breathed a sigh of relief. Rosaline’s squeals were muffled. She kicked her feet impotently against the air; Carlson wisely kept his shins far enough away while still holding her in place.
“Right!” said Polly, giving Rosaline’s bare, reddened behind a playful slap. “Time for this little brat to get her cold cream!”
She splodged on the contents of the pot and Rosaline squeaked at the chilly splat on her sore bottom. Then she rubbed briskly, like a nanny taking care of a sunburnt child. Rosaline blushed and wriggled, but had to submit to Polly covering her cheeks with cream. It was soothing, but nothing could salve her bruised pride, especially as the impudent little whore began to discuss her with Carlson as if she weren’t there.
“Sweet little bottom she has here. Who are you thinking of; who might like her?”
“Oh, I was wondering about our good friend Mr Noakes. He likes a well-mannered young lady. Or at least, making girls behave like well-mannered ladies. What do you reckon?”
“Possibly… ” Polly slapped cream between Rosaline’s legs, causing her to jump and squirm as the gooey mess spread across her sensitive pussy. “But how about Mr Larch? She might be right for his… interests… I mean, I never hit it off with him because I’m quite, well… ” She shook her large breasts and glanced down at her curvy hips. “She, on the other hand, is nice and petite. Dress her hair, give her the right get-up… I think he’d be smitten.”
Carlson nodded excitedly. “That’s perfect, Polly! How could I forget Mr Larch? We’ve never found quite the girl for him until now. Oh yes, I can see that very well.”
Polly raised an eyebrow and smirked. She finished applying the cream, patting Rosaline’s bottom as one might a lazy horse, and Rosaline shot daggers at her nursemaid. Polly washed her hands in a nearby basin and shook them off.
“Right. I’m going to be busy with Mr Forester for the next hour. Let me know if you need me after that. Have fun!”
“Thank you Polly dear,” said Carlson. “Oh, and you and the other girls might have a little think about a name?”
“For this one?” said Polly.
“Yes,” said Carlson. “Something the customers will enjoy. Something that speaks to her new role. Tells them exactly what kind of girl they’re paying for.”
“It would be our pleasure,” chuckled Polly, chuckling as she strutted out of the room.
Rosaline stood there in shock, bare-bottomed and mortified. Carlson released his grip and she rushed to pull up her knickers.
“Ah-ah! I wouldn’t do that, Rosaline,” said Carlson, stopping her hand as it reached the knee. “We need to let your spanking cream sink in, don’t we? Don’t want to get your nice clothes all messy.”
Rosaline untied her gag and spat out the stockings.
“Dear me,” said Carlson. “How presumptuous! I didn’t say you could do that either, did I?”
Rosaline ignored him and returned to pulling up her cotton underwear. No sooner had she covered herself, though, than she felt the knickers squelch against the cream, and wrinkled her nose at the sensation.
Carlson couldn’t mask his smile. “I did warn you, didn’t I? Never mind, we’re going to get you a nice new outfit anyway. Come along!”
He opened a secondary door and walked into a huge closet, filled with clothes.
Rosaline stood outside the closet, sulking about her hot-and-cold bottom, while Carlson rummaged about and filled the leather suitcase.
Finally he emerged.
“Ready, my dear?” he said. “I’ve put together a few different looks for you, since I’m not completely certain who you’re going to be. Let’s start with this.”
He clicked open the suitcase catches and drew out a black satin basque with suspenders attached.
“Not on your life!” declared Rosaline, crossing her arms over her body. “I’m not allowing you to dress me in THIS! It looks like something a streetwalker would wear!”
“Rosaline, my dear,” said Carlson, with the air of a weary parent, “I’m not sure you appreciate the role you’re being apprenticed for.”
“I’m not your apprentOWWWW!”
`Rosaline was caught, mid-complaint, by Carlson’s fingers pinching her ear. He dragged her, squeaking and whimpering, tottering on her tiptoes, and released her onto a double bed in the main part of the room. A bolster cushion lay across the middle of the bed.
“Right. I’ve had enough of this whinging,” he said. “You are going to get over that cushion now, face down, and put your little bottom in the air. NOW!”
His tone caught Rosaline off-guard and she froze.
“NOW.”
Rosaline, still in shock, placed herself awkwardly over the bolster.
“Arms out.”
Carlson took each wrist and buckled it into a restraint. As soon as Rosaline felt the leather tighten, she came back to her senses.
“HEY!” she began, but Carlson was too quick for her, and jammed a red apple into her mouth, fixing it in place with a cloth, as before.
“Such a little squealer, this girl,” he tutted. “This is how we shut up squealing pigs, so it’ll do for you!”
He grabbed her kicking legs and spread them, securing each one to a different corner. Rosaline pulled and thrashed, but could not get free.
“Mmmmph!” she complained, but Carlson ignored her.
“Now, where did I leave my good scissors?”
“MMMMPH!” Rosaline pulled and twisted to no avail. The more she complained, the more drool collected at the sides of her filled mouth and ran down her jaw.
“Oh dear, Miss Bannister. This really isn’t very ladylike,” said Carlson, dabbing away her dribble with a cloth. “Now, I’m going to need you to be a good girl and hold still. I don’t want to cut you by accident…”
Rosaline heard scissor blades swicking against each other, and froze once more, her heart racing.
She felt a hand grasp the hem of her skirt and pull it taut, before cutting cleanly up through the fabric. As the garment split, she felt cold air on her thighs, as her knickers were exposed.
“These are very nice, but not quite right for your new role, Rosaline. Let’s get them snipped off you. Hold still, please. These are very sharp… “
Rosaline bit harder into the apple as the steel slide down between her cheeks, cutting her underwear into useless scraps. With her bottom bared once more, she blushed furiously, tears of anger in her eyes.
“Now, I tried to give you a dignified introduction to your new role,” said Carlson, placing the scissors on the side, “but it seems you were determined to be an obnoxious little brat about the whole situation, so I’ll show you what happens to ungrateful brats.”
He unbuckled his belt and Rosaline whined behind her apple.
“Six to begin with,” he said, “and if you’re still determined to reject my offer of employment, there’ll be six more, and six more after that, and we’ll keep going until the constable arrives, at which point he can bundle you into the van, dressed as you are.”
And with that, he brought down the thick leather belt on her hoisted bottom.
“MMMMMMPHHHH!” she wailed into her gag.
“One,” said Carlson, and whipped her a second time.
“MMMMMMMMMMMPPPPHH!”
“Two. You see, it hurts much more to be naughty, doesn’t it, Rosaline?”
WHACK.
“MMMAAAAAAAAAA!”
Rosaline jangled her cuffs and bucked her scarlet bottom up and down.
WHACK! WHACK!
“One more!”
WHACK!
Rosaline’s bouncing bottom was fiery red, undoing any soothing the cold cream could have imparted. As Carlson uncuffed her and untied the gag, he revealed a sweaty, dishevelled face covered in tears and drool.
“Ready to try on some clothes?” he said.
“Yes… “
“Yes what?”
“Yes… Mr Carlson.”
“Very good, my dear. Much better. Now, let’s get you laced up in your black corset…”