Discipline of the Private House by Esme Ombreux

fingertips under her chin lifted her face. He is like a brother to me, she thought. But I want him to kiss me. I am truly wicked.
    'I find it hard to believe this of you,' he said. 'But don't worry; impure thoughts do not constitute the worst of sins. Far from it. The elders make much of it, to instil goodness in the children, but for adults impure thoughts are not uncommon. Particularly in young women.'
    Olena blushed.
    'A little punishment is all that needed. A brief penance.'
    'Punishment?' Olena's mind was in a whirl; she didn't know whether to be delighted or distressed. 'What sort of punishment?'
    'Oh, I don't know,' Barat said with a shrug. 'I don't think it really matters. What kind of punishments did you receive from your parents?'
    Olena recalled the hungry nights, the peeling of vegetables, the hours spent digging the family plot in freezing darkness. 'Nothing special,' she said. She hesitated. Then she added, 'But some of my friends were spanked when they were naughty. On their bottoms.'
    She couldn't look at Barat. What must he be thinking? She imagined lifting her skirt so that Barat could place his hands on the swelling spheres of her backside. She realised - she had realised all along - that the punishment would be futile. Worse: a spanking would only engender more impure thoughts in her.
    'All right,' Barat said, with a strange catch in his voice, 'I'll spank your bottom. But later; before you go to sleep tonight. I'll come here at your bedtime. Before then, however, I think we should go out.'
    'Out? But Barat, it's dark outside.'
    'We're in the city now, Olena. There are street lamps. Many people go out after dark. It will be all right, I assure you. And anyway, I want you to try on one more new garment. I've brought you a present.'
    From one of the pockets of his robe Barat produced a small packet. He offered it to Olena. She took it.
    'Open it,' he said.
    Carefully she peeled off the paper. Inside was a small roll of cloth: shiny, smooth, pale blue. There were slender straps of the same material. Flustered, she pushed the crumpled paper into Barat's hands. The garment unrolled, and Olena recognised it as a swimming costume.
    She didn't know what to say. The implications were too numerous for her to consider any of them for more than a moment: a swimming pool; a public place; crowded changing rooms; men and women in the same pool. Olena had seen pictures of such places. Everyone almost naked. She would have to appear wearing nothing but this costume.
    She was on the point of weeping. 'But Barat,' she said. 'I can't swim.'
    'Don't worry,' Barat said. 'I've thought of everything. It's quite late now. There is an establishment nearby with a pool; at this time in the evening it is nearly always empty. There will be no one to see you.'
    Olena felt strangely disappointed. 'But you will see me, won't you? And you're a man.' She hoped her voice indicated proper indignation rather than the anticipation she felt.
    'I'm your guardian,' Barat said. 'My duty is to look after you as your parents would. Of course I'll be there. I'll be watching over you.'
    Jem's display had swiftly brought the meeting to a close, and she and her closest advisers had retired to a room in her private apartments. She had called for champagne. The half a dozen men and women - the people who ran the Private House for Jem, and who were therefore among the most influential people in the world - had sunk gratefully into leather armchairs before a blazing fire. There was no other light in the oak-panelled chamber. Servants in revealing costumes stood silently in the shadows.
    Now, Jem thought, we can have some fun at last.
    She summoned her chief of guards. Julia approached Jem's chair and bowed her head.
    Take off your tunic,' Jem said.
    Julia looked up. Anger flashed in her dark eyes. Jem understood Julia's irritation, but was not prepared to be thwarted.
    'Do it,' she said. Tf you won't obey my orders, who will?'
    Julia's belt, with her crop and