Bound to Serve

  Bound To Serve

  By

  Sullivan Clarke

  ©2012 by Blushing Books® and Sullivan Clarke

  Copyright © 2012 by Blushing Books® and Sullivan Clarke

  All rights reserved. No part of the book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

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  Clarke, Sullivan

  Bound to Serve

  eBook ISBN: 978-1-60968-647-5

  Cover Design by ABCD Webmasters

  This book is intended for adults only. Spanking and other sexual activities represented in this book are fantasies only, intended for adults. Nothing in this book should be interpreted as advocating any non-consensual spanking activity or the spanking of minors.

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  Chapter One

  Elspeth McDonald looked down at the face of the young woman whose head was cradled in her lap, choking back tears as she saw the pale lips moved in what she knew were the redhead’s final words.

  “Tell my mum….” The words ended in a strangled gasp and Elspeth covered her mouth in grief as the blue eyes determined stare gave way to the unseeing glassiness of death.

  Elspeth looked at the vacant eyes, not wanting to believe that her companion’s journey had taken such a cruel twist that had taken her not to the colonies, but into the afterlife. Even now, she could hear the excitement above deck, the shouts of land.

  A face appeared on the stairs above, grizzled for one so young but bearing a hopeful expression so different than the weary masks they’d all gotten used to.

  “Elspeth! Come see. It’s Virginia!”

  “I’ll be up in a moment, Ronald.” She’d not marred her cousin’s excitement with news of the death, not that it would matter. Neither of them had gotten to know the dead woman, who had started complaining of stomach pains three days earlier. She’d died slowly, and in agony and Elspeth now hurriedly fished through her pockets for some form of identification that would provide a clue to who she was. “Tell my mum..” she’d said.

  She found only a locket in the soiled apron and popped it open to reveal a picture of a thin, birdlike woman with a redheaded tot on her lap. In desperation, Elspeth pulled the picture from the locket and looked at the back. “Maggie Adair and daughter Emma.”

  “Emma.” Elspeth looked down at the young woman, placed the picture back in the locket and then pocketed it with a silent promise to its owner that she’d return it to Maggie Adair along with news of her daughter’s fate. For now, there was nothing more she could do.

  The shouts from above were louder now and the hold was thrown open, emitting bright light that hurt her eyes.

  “Out! Out now! All of ye!” a man barked. Elspeth recognized the voice as that of George Hampton, the agent who’d arranged the passage of her and many of her companions. She wondered if he’d arranged Emma Adair’s as well and rushed to climb the rickety stairs that led to the upper deck.

  The sticky salt air hit her face in a cool blast as she emerged. Struggling to remain balanced, for she’d never quite developed her sea legs despite the long voyage, Elspeth scanned the crowd for Hampton and finally caught sight of his cap as he scurried through the passengers, whom he curtly ordered to queue up for departure.

  When Elspeth reached him, the ferret-faced Hampton regarded her with irritation. “Queue up,” he snarled, and have your identification at the ready for your new employer.”

  “I shall,” Elspeth said, but refused to move when he took her arm to move her into line. “But first you should know that one of the passengers has died.”

  Hampton’s sigh was not one of pity, but of agitation. “Who?”

  “Emma Adair.” She pulled the locket from inside her cloak and was about to hand it to the agent, but stopped when he exploded in outrage and began to pace the deck, muttering about this new “inconvenience.”

  Disgusted, Elspeth tucked the locket back in her cloak, knowing that Hampton wouldn’t care that her family got it back.

  This time, when she was ushered into line, she stayed and looked for the first time at the fast-approaching shoreline dotted with buildings. She felt a pang of loss so strong that her knees nearly buckled. Nothing in this strange land held any resemblance to her beloved Scotland, with its cliff-lined shores, green mountains and towering waterfalls. This place was flat and drab. The smell of smoke and livestock wafted across the water to mingle with the unpleasant smells of the ship. Elspeth closed her eyes and tried to concentrate on the woman she’d agreed to serve - a widow who needed assistance with household chores. Elspeth had not been born to wealth, and had spent much of her young life caring for elder members of her extended family. But a particularly hard winter had taken its toll on the elderly, and when poverty forced their hand, she and some able members of her family had gambled on a chance to forge a new life in the colonies in hopes that one day they could pay transport for more relatives to join them later.

  But first, Elspeth would have to serve for seven years as a maid. She hoped the woman she was to serve would be kind and patient. To assuage her fears, she’d pictured a matronly, bespectacled lady with a ready laugh and kind eyes that crinkled at the corners when she laughed. Elspeth’s eyes scanned the homes along the shore. Was one of them to be her new home?

  The ship had docked now and she felt herself pushed along with the others as they made their way down the gangplank. At the base, a crowd of people stood waiting. Elspeth figured they were the employers and scanned the faces looking for an older woman, but was jostled along so roughly that she had to turn her attention back to where she was walking so she wouldn’t trip.

  When her legs reached solid ground, Elspeth felt as if they were made of wood and she found walking awkward. Looking around, she saw from the shuffling gaits that others shared the situation.

  “You, girl! What’s your name again?” Hampton walked over to her, holding a piece of paper. Behind him was a tall, severe looking man with sharp features and sandy blonde hair.

  “Elspeth McDonald, sir.” She found h
erself staring addressing Hampton but staring at the stern-faced man. “I’m to be in service of the widow –”

  “There’s been a change of plans.” Hampton grabbed her arm and thrust her towards the other man, as if she were a package he was delivering.

  “Here, you can take this one,” he said. “She’s smaller than the one that died, but she’s from the high country.” Hampton squeezed Elspeth’s arm. “Small but sturdy.”

  Elspeth turned on him, angry. “No,” she said, shaking her head. “I did not agree to this!” She looked at the tall man, as if somehow expecting him to come to her defense. “I came here to serve the widow…” She reached into her cloak to find the contract and then realized that Hampton had all the contracts in his possession. As if reading her mind, he smiled toothily. Elspeth was reminded of a ferret.

  “You’re mistaken,” he said. “Your agreement is with this man, Mr. Clifford Harker.”

  Elspeth’s eyes filled with tears. Being unable to read or write, she’d put her mark on the agreement but had no idea what it said, and had relied on Hampton’s word as to its content. Now that he was changing the terms, she had no defense. She watched helplessly as the tall man passed the agent a handful of money furious that Hampton was profiting from the betrayal.

  “I suggest you go along like a good girl,” the agent said. “Unless you’re so unhappy with your arrangement that you’d prefer to pay now for passage back home.”

  Elspeth’s face reddened. She only had the clothes on her back and the meager contents of the bag she carried.

  “This way.” She turned and looked up at her new employer, who surveyed her with more curiosity than kindness. He was well-dressed and well-groomed, but had a sort of weariness about him that Elspeth generally associated with the despair she’d witnessed in her struggling countrymen. There was a darkness about his man that frightened her and Elspeth suddenly felt a tug of fear that tethered her to the spot even as Clifford Harker stepped towards his carriage.”

  “There’s a mistake,” she said again. “I’m supposed to be in service of an older woman.”

  He turned to her. “Do you know her name?”

  “Middleton? Or Middleburg?” Elspeth furrowed her brow. She couldn’t remember the exact name, and had trusted the agent to remind her.

  Harker stopped. “There was a Lacy Middleton,” he said. “And she was a widow, but she died a fortnight ago.” He paused. “There has been a lot of death this year, including my own wife. That is why I sought the services of Mr. Hampton. My wife, while alive, was in desirous of help. Now that she’s dead desire has become necessity. I’ve two sons at home, and no help to care for them.”

  He opened the door of the carriage. “I’m not in the habit of explaining myself, especially not to servants. So I shall say no more of this. Now get in.”

  For a moment, Elspeth stood there wondering what would become of her if she turned and walked away. The docks behind her were rapidly clearing; the few familiar faces she’d come to know on the ship were gone, leaving only sketchy, hard-looking men. She shuddered at what fate might befall a poor woman alone.

  Avoiding her employer’s eyes, she stepped into the carriage and swallowed hard as it lurched along the pitted road bearing her to an uncertain future.

  ***

  Clifford Harker had not wanted to come to the Americas any more than his new servant and in retrospect he wished he had stayed in London. His flighty young wife, Caroline, had seen the whole thing as an adventure. The filth of the city depressed her, and she fancied the life of being wife to a gentleman farmer. A large inheritance had opened a world of possibilities to Harker, and his wife reminded him that there as a wide world outside of England rumored to be full of opportunities.

  Harker had never been a man to be swayed by the fancies of women, but in this case he knew Caroline’s whims had at least some merit. Acquainted who’d left for the colonies sent back word of hard work that yielded a good return for those who had money to invest. And Caroline was right about another thing - the city was becoming a cesspool. The notion of open land where his sons could grow strong from clean air and hard work also appealed to him, especially since their oldest son struggled with a persistent breathing ailment.

  It had taken him two months to get his affairs in order and another month to book passage on a vessel with suitable comforts for him and his family. But the trip had been worth it and within a year he was realizing his dream of running a productive farm that shipped crops and lumber back to England.

  Work kept Clifford Harker busy, but even with two sons Caroline found time to fret about the unexpected isolation. Soon she was clamoring to go back to England.

  “It’s too late for that,” her husband had reminded her. “We’ve too much invested to just leave. In a few years…”

  “Years?” Caroline had been indignant. “You can’t possibly expect me to stay here beyond the summer! I simply will not, even if I have to sneak away and book passage from this place for me and the boys!”

  That statement had pushed her husband too far, and when Harker wheeled on his wife she realized it with just a glimpse at his handsome, stormy face. For Caroline, while a spoiled daughter of a privileged family, was not spoiled by her husband.

  “No! I didn’t mean it!” She tried to retract the threat, but realized right away that it was too late when she found herself facedown across his lap, her skirts pushed up to her waist. Caroline put her hand back in an effort to cover her now-bare bottom but could not shield herself from his disciplinary intentions. Clifford Harker’s hard hand descended on her upturned bottom with a loud smack and Caroline burst into tears.

  She cried easily during spankings, having gotten few as a child and never any delivered with the her husband’s severity. Clifford Harker approached spanking with the same approach he used in other aspects of his life - one of thoroughness. If he judged the results by Caroline’s cries, the punishments never would have amounted to much. But he did not, and used the shade of her fair skin as an indicator of when she’d had enough. And “enough” usually came only when his wife’s bottom and the backs of her thighs were covered entirely with angry, reddish-purple splotches.

  After this particular spanking, Caroline sobbed copiously and acted the picture of contrition as she waited, whimpering, for him to tell her that she’d been forgiven. Clifford Harker never held Caroline directly after punishment, and sometimes would refuse to touch her for a day or two to emphasize his displeasure. But on this particular occasion she was so genuinely distraught that he took her in his arms to comfort her.

  “There, there,” he’d said. “It’s all over now.”

  “I didn’t mean it,” she’d sniffed. “I wouldn’t leave you, Clifford. I love you so!”

  “I know,” he said, and he meant it as his lips found hers and he wound his hands in her thick chestnut curls and pulled her to him, his arms wrapping tight around her plump body.

  His third son, Nigel, had been born nine months afterwards. Caroline had come through the birth remarkably well and had enjoyed mothering the new infant and his brothers, Colin and Harry.

  Then winter had set in, and with it a terrible virus that spread through the village like wildfire. Young and old were struck down, and when Nigel became ill Caroline had gone nearly mad with worry.

  Clifford had dealt with death before; his parents had both departed this life within six months of one another. But the prospect of losing a child was beyond anything he’d ever experienced. When Nigel had slipped away, he’d thought the grief too much to bear. But when Caroline - who had neglected her own needs during the illfated bedside vigil - fell ill he fell to his knees in prayer, begging and bargaining with God to spare his family another loss. But the prayers went unheeded and a week later Caroline joined her tiny son in the churchyard.

  He’d regretted not going back to England, and wondered if God was punishing him for the sin of pride and greed. He’d stayed because he was making his fortune, and in that p
ursuit he had lost his family. Deep down, he knew the blame was irrational - many had been struck down. God surely could not be mad at them all. By the time the virus had run its course not a family in the village had escaped its icy hand. Husband were left without wives, children without parents. Slaves and servants alike were cut down and farms and households languished for lack of help.

  Clifford had been among the few fortunate farmers to have enough labor to keep going. But because Caroline had so enjoyed and insisted on doing much of the home keeping herself, she’d resisted the idea of a maid until late in her pregnancy with Nigel, not realizing that she’d never live to have use for help with the children.

  Now another woman - a stranger - sat across from him in the carriage. Clifford looked at Elspeth and wrinkled his nose at this slip of a girl. She smelled from her trip and her long mane of blonde hair and delicate made her look more like a denizen of Fairie than a human. He wondered if she had all her teeth and realized he would not know until she smiled. Then he realized he didn’t care if she smiled because - although he needed her - he resented needing her. Caroline should be raising her sons, not some dirty Scottish woman-child in an oversized cloak who stared at the passing landscape with a faraway look in her eyes.

  Hampton had said she was from the High Country. She was sturdy, he’d said. But Clifford realized she was likely also wild and stubborn and headstrong as were some of the other poor Scotts who’d come to the colonies to work. His hand clenched and unclenched in his lap. He hoped the girl would not be of a defiant nature, because if she were, he would not tolerate it. That was a message he was more than willing to impart, should the need arise.

  There would be no coddling this girl because she was small and alone in a new country. She was there simply to tend to his children and nothing more. She would see to their basic needs and they would grow up knowing that the woman who cared for them was a mere servant and nothing more, that the true beauty who had borne them was stolen along with their brother all too soon. His surviving sons would learn that there were two kinds of people in this world - those with and those without - and would follow their father’s example of keeping others in their proper place.