The Countess and the Caretaker - Part Five.

He awoke much earlier than normal, gradually passing control to
his conscious mind, and with it came the flood of memories from
the previous day. So it was true. 

Gradually, piece by piece, the jigsaw puzzle of recollections
fell humiliatingly into place. She had stood, arms akimbo,
towering above his cowering frame, and laughed. He had tried to
explain, but how could he give a credible excuse for his
predicament?

She had beckoned to him with her manicured forefinger, and like
a trained pet, he had crawled out of the wardrobe, clutching
his overalls around him in a vain attempt to hide the erection
and the black, incriminating panties.

She had known he was there all the time, and she made her
thoughts on peeping-toms patently clear to him, but she could
find no words adequate to express her disgust at the theft of
her underwear.

He, of course, had apologised profusely, and begged her
forgiveness, but she had remained unmoved. Then she had spotted
his erection, and became really angry, accusing him of not
being able to control himself. She had insisted he be punished
for his lust, and even hinted that he would lose his job unless
he agreed.

He was in no position to argue, and was told to bend over the
dressing table stool. The maid had been instructed to secure his
hands and feet with the tassels that were conveniently hung from
the stool. The Countess had then proceeded to lay twelve
meticulously aimed strokes with her cane across his buttocks.

The pain he suffered, somehow, purged his guilt over his
misdemeanours and he genuinely thought that having paid the
price for his crimes, he would be allowed to go. But there was
no such easy escape for him.

He had then been given a pen and a piece of paper and told to
write a full confession. When she was completely satisfied, he
signed it and then, and only then was he peremptorily dismissed,
still wearing the panties. He had struggled quickly into his
overalls, outside her apartment, while through the closed door,
he could hear her laughing.

                     ********************

He pulled the bedclothes over him, trying to feel some sense of
security, in a world that had completely turned upside down.

The woman in the Playboy photograph had turned into reality, in
the form of the Countess. Part of him was excited, part of him
nervous and yet another part was drowning in confusion.

Was that it? Sign a confession and then be thrown out?

He could not shake the feeling that he had lost control of his
own life and that he was now hers, at least until she had no
further use for him.