Damsels in Distress by Amanita Virosa

difference, well I don’t understand.’
    ‘You caned that girl in Ma O’Reilly’s the other night,’ Horace retorted.
    ‘She was a whore; she had a hide like leather. I just wanted…’ Farquar stopped. Caning the girl had been much better than swishing schoolboys, but she had been far too casual, too used to it, too professional. He had wanted to try his famous eye on a female fundament, in case there were some great surprises, some differences he had not banked on. The exercise had been worth the money. But this was the real event.
    The doorbell rang. The boys looked at each other. Horace giggled nervously but obeyed Farquar’s signal to go to the door and let the ladies in.
    ‘All right,’ Penelope said as she swept in, ‘let’s get this nonsense over with.’
    Farquar had refilled his glass whilst Horace had gone to let in the guests. He swirled the Chateaux Montrose in his glass and sniffed it before taking a sip. Penelope was resplendent in a gown of blue-grey silk, with matching hat and gloves. Victoria wore her widow’s black, but it was a fetchingly tailored satin dress, with a tight bodice but full, bell shaped skirts. Her gloves and hat were black and she wore a black lace veil.
    After her initial bluster drew no reply, there was not much for Penelope to say. The two women looked about the room, which was now but sparsely furnished. There were only two comfortable chairs, and thus nowhere obvious for the ladies to sit, which was as he had intended.
    Farquar saw Victoria glance over at the Chinese vase with its bouquet of canes and crops. She coloured and looked quickly away. Horace sniggered in the background, but that somehow seemed to make the silence even more oppressive.
    ‘Would you ladies like to take your gowns off here,’ he said at last, ‘or in one of the bedrooms?’
    Both women blinked a little at this. ‘Disrobe…?’ Virginia said, as if not believing she had heard right.
    ‘Well, of course,’ Farquar said, smiling. ‘I can hardly flog you over skirts like those.’ He watched with quiet delight as both ladies coloured, looked at each other and he was sure he saw Penelope gulp. ‘If you would like,’ he said pleasantly, ‘Horace has volunteered to help undress you.’
    ‘No!’ Penelope quickly refused the offer.
    ‘No, no thank you,’ Victoria mumbled, blushing a delightfully bright red behind her veil. ‘We can get undressed on our own.’
    ‘Taking their time, ent they?’ Horace said, after a few minutes had passed.
    ‘Seem a bit reluctant, for some reason,’ Farquar concurred. ‘Perhaps we had better chivvy them along a little.’
    At that moment the two ladies returned to the main room, and Farquar felt his cock begin to stiffen as he perused the quite delightful sight they made. He had told them to take off their gowns and petticoats, and that was all, give or take a crinoline or bustle, that the ladies had removed. Both wore white camisoles, beneath tight-laced corsets, and both wore brilliant white cotton drawers. Virginia had black, and Penelope white silk stockings gartered just above the knee. The snowy whiteness of their underthings made a fetching contrast with the redness of their faces. Both ladies looked mostly at the floor and Virginia entwined her fingers anxiously.
    ‘Lovely. Don’t they look lovely, Horace?’
    Wittingstall, however, was so overcome by the sight of the blushing beauties that he seemed to have temporarily lost the power of speech.
    ‘Would you care to come over here?’ Farquar asked politely, walking over to the polished mahogany table, and with evident reluctance, some sighs and many glances at each other, Penelope and Virginia edged over to his side. Farquar picked up a length of silky rope, taken from a curtain pull.
    ‘Hold your hands out in front of you, Virginia,’ he ordered.
    ‘Wait a minute,’ she said. ‘What’s this, you little beast? We agreed to be?’
    ‘Calm down, Penelope,’ Farquar snapped. ‘When we