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soul about our deal."
    Gertrude looked up at her son, but she knew by his expression that whatever he had in mind would not be denied.
    "I'll speak to her alone, Mother," he said.
    "As you wish, son," said Gertrude and turned to exit out the back.
    As she did, Millicent turned to Lester, her eyes filled with fear. "I don't understand," she said as he took her by the arm and pulled her to the back, where a wooden chair stood by the wall. Sitting down her pulled her across his lap.
    "Just in case you think of telling anyone," he said by way of explanation, pulling up her skirts. Realizing his intent, Millicent began to kick and squeal.
    "No!" she cried. "Please don't beat me. I'll not tell a soul."
    But Lester wasn't listening. The bare bottom before him was a sight to behold, round, plump with charming little dimples where they began to swell at the lower back. He laid a heavy hand on one buttock and squeezed, feeling his cock harden under his apron as he did so. Oh, yes, this was going to be a message they'd both remember. Raising his hand, he brought it down hard across the white globes of flesh, relishing the 'splat' sound the impact made and the way his handprint bloomed across the milky skin.
    Millicent bucked and whimpered so charmingly that the only thing he could do was hit her again. And again. And again. Soon she was squirming under his rapidly spanking hand, unaware that as her bottom reddened her tormentor was being worked into an increased state of excitement. He only stopped when he feared her wails would turn to screams that would be overheard by anyone passing the shop, but did so reluctantly and only after casually dipping his fingers between her legs to slide through the lips of her cunny. Millicent groaned in shame, for she was as wet as he was hard. With a grunt, he yanked her skirts down and raised the girl to her feet. Their eyes locked as they did so and at once they knew they were made for each other. But Lester knew the delectably spankable washerwoman would not be in his future, especially if his mother had anything to say about it. On the other hand, if the gold really did exist perhaps once he and Lark were married, he could hire Millicent to work in their house. He could spank both of them, even have both of them at the same time if he so wished, and there would be nothing they could do. He would be the head of the family and they would have to obey. For a man sick of heeding every beck and call of a domineering mother, the idea of having two women at his cruel mercies delighted him.
    "Don't forget what my mother said," he barked and directed her, with one parting slap on the bum, towards the door. "Now off with ye."

     

Chapter Four

    As the carriage hit a rut in the road, its occupant lifted his cane and banged hard on the roof of the vehicle, a wordless warning to his driver to be more careful. Above him the driver winced at the sound, and reined in the pair of coal-black horses, his eyes scanning the road for any more dips or bumps that would disturb his passenger.
    It wasn't that the man in the carriage was particularly important. In truth, his name was just starting to get attention. But there was something in just a single glance from Reverend Maximilian Fordham that made anyone in his presence feel instantly vulnerable and diminished. Perhaps it was his dark, penetrating eyes or his seeming inability to smile. But whatever it was, his knack for harsh, calculating assessment was transforming him into a rising star in a church that had become eager to purge what it saw as a growing threat to its flock..
    From the window, Rev. Fordham surveyed the passing landscape. The light had grown dimmer as the day grew long, and the slanting rays of late afternoon were just enough to emit a golden glow along the road that ran through the forest. The village, he knew, was remote. Just the place where so called wise-women - a misleading euphanism for hedge witches - could still practice. When the bishop