The Iron Governor


Jocelyn Deveraux was a four feet eleven inch tower of defiance. Her impossible gold blonde tresses were neatly pinned under a riding bowler draped at the brim with a pair of driving goggles. From under these two big blue eyes regarded the world in triumph. The goggles were a promise to herself that she would have a steam car of her own one day, a somewhat childish aspiration in her father’s view, rather like buying a saddle when one did not own a horse.

Nor were the goggles the most controversial thing about her attire. As a keen modernist, Jocelyn was an advocate of trousers for women, but her father had taken a contrary position.

“Breeches on a girl, never heard of such a thing,” he had blustered, “The damn fillies in this house can wear any damn thing they want, so long as they clad themselves in a dress, what. That is my last word.”

Lord Deveraux had assumed that was the end of the matter. However, Jocelyn was not so easily cowed and had outfoxed the old duffer by indeed wearing a dress, but this gown was of blue silk cut bodice tight above the waist, but only hung to her knees in front and rose at the back bum freezer-style to reveal a trim pair of cotton trousers.

“What you need is a damn good thrashing,” Deveraux had raged when he saw them. But he had promised his late wife faithfully that he would have no hand in physically correcting is daughter once she turned 18 and she was now fast approaching 20.

Furthermore after the last governess had eloped with the under butler Lord Deveraux had public sworn off having such servants under his roof. He had rashly promises his daughter that no woman…

“Or tutors,” Jocelyn had quickly interjected.

“Or tutors,” her father had continued with his rage, “Will come to this house and lay hands on my blood while purporting to be moral.”

Jocelyn licked her lips and surveyed the expanse of land behind the house that would one day be hers. She sighed, she had got her way, she always got her way. Furthermore it was clear that father had finally given up contesting her will. For only that morning she had found a brochure from Marley-Dexter, the famous steam engineers. Clearly Daddy was considering buying a steam car, after all he could hardly want to buy an airship. Her heart soared.

That’s when she saw a curious person walking up the gravel path that cut across the back lawn. Like a huge bear or a great ape, the person was draped in a large leather coat and was stooped over so that a high stovepipe hat rose and fell like a piston as they lumbered along with a curious gait.

Stranger still, as he walked Jocelyn fancied she could hear a hissing sound followed by a gentle clank like child’s toy train.

“What a curious thing,” she muttered as she watched the man’s progress, for she was sure now that he was indeed a man.

The cause of his odd mode of walking was his limp. With each great step of his left leg, his right would stiffly clank forward in its train. Clearly the creature had some sort of steam-powered false leg, but while she considered this she noticed his face. Set next to a baleful bloodshot left eye, was a fearsome orb of steel and glass that far from being a dead thing, whirred and spun as if constantly trying to focus on some unknown horror of the world.

Then he stopped.

This motion was so absolute that Jocelyn startled and almost fled the terrace for the safety of the conservatory. Then the man straightened to his full seven feet in height and turned his head towards her.

“You must be Jocelyn Deveraux,” he said in a sharp melodious voice. It had an unearthly quality to it and Jocelyn wondered if it too was somehow an artifice.

Jocelyn gaped at the man and searched her soul for a reply.

“Young woman,” the man said firmly, “It is highly impolite not to answer when spoken to.” His face was scarred with ragged white crevices on his flesh and his jaw looked as if it might once have been broken and not quite correctly set.

“Oh… I… I… yes, I am… ah… Jocelyn Deveraux,” she spluttered.

“I am here to see Lord Deveraux, your father,” he said.

“Sir you have the advantage of me,” Jocelyn said, her imperious voice tried to hide her fear. “What business can you possibly have with my father?”

The man’s right eye made a sound and Jocelyn fancied that it just focussed like a lens. His left, more disconcertingly, finally blinked.

“My name is Axel Dalliance, and my business is you,” the man said.

Jocelyn caught a breath and gape-mouthed, she clutched her heart. Then Dalliance tipped his hat as he nodded and lumbered on to meet his appointment.


“I promised no more governesses, and no more tutors, I do not recall saying anything about governors,” Lord Deveraux said wearily, scarcely bothering to look up from his papers.

Jocelyn could only gape in disbelief. “Who on God’s Earth has ever heard of a governor?” she finally gasped.

“Well I have, and now you have, see your education is already advanced,” her father chuckled.

“But, but, but… it’s… it’s indecent,” she gasped, still clutching her heart for affect. It made her look delicate and maidenly.

“Indecent? Indecent how?” Lord Deveraux looked up with real interest.

“I mean,” Jocelyn blushed, her imagination had been running away with her, chiefly on account of an episode with her last governess. The old battle axe had not taken kindly to an adder in her bed and had resorted chasing Jocelyn around the school room. Jocelyn had finally been cornered in her own bedroom and forced onto her tummy and stripped; whereupon, the governess had lashed her bare bottom some two dozen times with a nursery birch.

Jocelyn could have sworn her father had smirked at her tapering protests and instead of putting ideas into his head, she took another tack altogether. “But he is a monster,” she said.

Lord Deveraux fixed her with a hard stare until she visibly quailed and then he said, “Mr Dalliance was wounded in the service of his country having served honourably with the Royal Engineers.”

“Wounded, there is barely anything left of him,” Jocelyn gasped, “I mean to say, how can he possibly be up to the job? He is half man and half steam engine.”

“Well if that is your only objection then let us put him to the task forthwith and see.” With that the matter was closed.


Jocelyn was beginning to regret her choice of wardrobe. The back-less skirts with tight breeches had seemed like a good one-in-the-eye to her father, but now she stood in the old school room confronted by her ‘Governor’ she was embarrassed.

Axel Dalliance was huge like an iron bear with not a trace of compromise anywhere in his features.

“There will be rules,” he said, “You may not know it, but after the army the only work I could get was at one of Her Majesty’s Prisons. The prison service thought me too frail for a male establishment and I was relegated to overseeing discipline at a Holloway and then Grantham.”

Jocelyn knew that both were women prisons and Grantham had a particularly harsh reputation. She didn’t like the implication one bit.

“I don’t see what that experience has too with me,” she said as haughtily as she was able.

“Oh you will learn that in time,” Axel said, this time he smiled and it was gruesome. “But I was speaking of rules and the observance of such.”

Jocelyn rolled her eyes, there were always rules, chiefly for the obedience of fools, she thought. “I know, no leaving the house or gardens without permission, no going into town without…”

“I am speaking of my rules,” he cut her off with an iron tone.

Jocelyn clammed up and blanched.

“No lateness, no answering back… no breeches,” he added pointedly, “You will walk the cinder path that borders the main lawn thrice around every day.”

There was a litany of other rules, most of which either common sense or variations on those her father had already outlined. Jocelyn listened to none of them.

“I was promised no tutors, so what are we doing in the old school room?” Jocelyn interrupted him.

“I am conversant in mathematics, geography, and German among other practical subjects. As you say, you are not required to learn any of them, but if you should so chose I am will be at your service,” he said, “You might recall I said no answering back and interruptions very much fall within that proscription.”

Jocelyn rolled her eyes again and signalled her boredom with a sigh.

The steam-borg glared, one metallic eye buzzing as it focussed down on her and then with an impossible speed he seized her from the floor and deposited her across his lap as he sat upon a chair.

“What the…? Omigosh,” Jocelyn gasped.

Face down across his knees her breech-clad bottom was already vulnerable to the threatened assault, but an unsatisfied Axel took hold of the fabric and tore the offending trousers away in tatters. This left the rebellious hoyden quite bare where it counted.

“Dr Dalliance,” Jocelyn squealed, now in a tumble of shame and confusion.

The half-man literally had a piston for a right hand, and although his many attachments could serve him for most things, today he had forsworn intricacies and in preparation had adopted a simple leather coated steel paw. It was with this well-attached paddle that he began his work, his steady eye in medic mode for maximum care and efficiency.

“Lady Jocelyn,” he answered her calmly, “You have a spanking coming to you, a very sound spanking. You have already broken two of my rules and now you will face the consequences.”

It was funny he should mention faces while regarding the other end, she thought, as her own visage coloured hotly. Then reality bit her. This wasn’t happening, it couldn’t be, she told herself; the first stage of a spanking always being denial.

“Let go of me you bastard,” she snarled. “You wait until… aahhh…”

“And that is a hat-rick,” he sighed, “I know a young lady who might not sit down for a week.”

His arm descended with a solid thwack that put him in mind of willow upon leather, another equally English pastime. But this was long way from cricket, if Jocelyn’s stunned gasp was anything to go by; the hit rate of bat upon ball was much quicker for one thing.

“Mr Dalliance, Sir, I think we go off on the wrong… eeeh!” Bloodshot eyes started in her head as she received another mighty swat on the bare bottom. Following her denial and threats, the next stage, that of negotiation was not going well.

“No you started off in the wrong and it is my task to correct you,” Axel chided her as he spanked her again.

Looking down he was surprised that the two smooth rounds of her flesh had provoked a reaction. Maybe it was rapid flood of English strawberry red, or the firm perfect spheres? But spanking an errant had never been like this before.

“Please Sir,” she wailed a minute and perhaps 50 spanks later, “Please I’m sorry.”

Axel was surprised that she had arrived at the apology stage so quickly; he had assumed she would be more spirited,

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she wailed again, her words now somewhat damp and becoming obscured by sniffles.

Stage five would not be long in coming.

“Please, oh please,” Jocelyn finally sobbed, her bottom by them were quite interesting colours and textures. “I’ll do anything, I’ll be good.”

And there we are, Axel congratulated himself, and they were still barely six or seven minutes into her spanking. He paused.

Jocelyn could have kissed him for his mercy and now lay prone and panting in surrender.

“Now before we continue, let us have a little talk,” Axel said sagely.

Jocelyn gaped in horror at the floor; continue, she groaned inwardly.

“Now young lady, when we are finished here, and mark me, we are very far from being finished,” Axel warned, “Having nothing very much useful to do with your time, you will go and stand facing the wall with your arms neatly folded into the small of your back. You will stand there until I give you permission to take your daily constitutional.”

Jocelyn listened in horror to his words, all the while choking back little sobs and praying her would release her so that she could massage her tortured behind.

“Please I didn’t mean… can’t I… oh, oh…” she spluttered.

“You can do exactly as you have been directed to do as you so richly deserve and one more word of dissent or rebellion and we shall begin this little exercise over,” Axel growled.

The words spoken, Axel raised his piston arm and allowed it to fall with a will.

“Aaaahhhh,” Jocelyn wailed as she bawled out fresh sobs.

Axel, approving of her improved attitude, showed his appreciation with rapid and unrelenting one handed applause, all directed at his charge’s by now very sore and certainly very red bare bottom.

Jocelyn expressed her dismay with ever-vocal yowling as unamused chuckle-like sounds escaped her throat for another five minutes.


Jocelyn stood sobbing vigorously before her Iron Governor and now utterly defeated. It was all she could do not to claw at her searing bare bottom in a humiliating and unseemly display. Instead she just hopped about a bit with her arms hovering like broken wings at her side. Her crying was barely contained and she had yet to regain her breath.

“Is there anything you do not now understand?” Axel growled as he glared down at her.

“No,” she muttered sheepishly.

His right eyed whirred menacingly.

“No Sir,” she amended quickly.

“I will not see this ridiculous attire again and certainly no breeches,” he told her firmly.

“But I don’t have any other dresses now,” she wailed.

“Then you will have to make do with what you have,” he sighed.

“B-but… w-without breeches everyone will see my bloomers,” she gaped. “That is unseemly.”

“Is it now,” Axel said sharply, “Then you will do without bloomers, I doubt then you will ever want to rebel again.”

The horror of the order almost made her start to sob again.

“Have no fear, you are restricted to the house and grounds anyway,” he chuckled, “At least until you have made up your mind to request a return to your studies. Then I might consider permitting an alternative.”

Jocelyn was truly hoist upon a petard of her own making and glowered into the middle distance.

“Mark me, any rebellion, tricks or scheming and you will go back across my knee and I don’t care who is there to witness the event,” Axel said as if he could read her mind. “Now for the remainder of the morning you will turn and put your nose in that corner, just as you are mark me…”

Jocelyn gasped. The corner… but I’m… you can’t be serious,” she wailed.

“Oh I am and you will stay there until I release you for your afternoon constitutional around the grounds.” He barked at her, “If you don’t…” he raised his iron hand.

Remembering that she was naked behind she gaped, “But the servants, the gardeners…”

“Shaming isn’t it, how do you think your father feels? To him this shame is the lesser compared to your intention to dress as you do in public,” Axel said calmly.

Jocelyn blushed. She hadn’t thought of it like that.

“But please, at least let me put on some bloomers,” she begged.

“But that would be so unseemly,” he quoted her and gave her an iron smile.


Jocelyn nervously licked her lips and surveyed the expanse of land behind the house that would one day be hers. Well today she felt a long way from being lady of the manor, she thought ruefully.  She heaved a hard sigh that almost turned to fresh sobbing.

Only yesterday she had stood here congratulating herself for outsmarting her father. Now she was in the same attire only sans culets and without breeches, and with a very tender red bottom hanging in the breeze. She had tried to ignore the snickering of the maids as she had left the schoolroom. Thank God they did not know that for more than an hour prior to her being dismissed she had stood with her nose to the corner like a juvenile. A fresh blushed suffused her face at the memory.

Her protest at the childish treatment had been met with another serious spanking threat and the promise that corner time could always be moved to the main staircase where everyone would see her. After that, the seam at the corner of the room school room had accepted her nose as readily as it had when she had last submitted it aged 10.

For more than an hour she had stood in a silent room while no doubt Axel Dalliance had regarded her very bare and very sore bottom in triumph. Now dismissed for her afternoon constitutional she faced another baptism of shame.

Thrice around the cinder path was almost a mile and unless she ran it would take perhaps 20 minutes to complete. It was unlikely that in that time the gardener’s boy would not see her shame. She blushed upon the first flush and felt her ears burn. Compared to him and Jarvis, the old man himself, sniggering maids would be nothing.

Oh well, she thought with a sigh, it is a far, far better thing I do… her nose found the air as readily as it had earlier found the corner and with her best haughty pose she took her first stride. The Ladies’ League for Trousers never faced such adversity, she would be bound.

Each step upon the hard ground made her bottom flare with pain. A surreptitious exploration with her fingers revealed some real heat and she winced as her fingernails scraped skin. Damn the man, damn the man and dog poo, the bastard, how dare he do this to her, how… the very nerve of the man.

Such was Jocelyn’s rage that she almost forgot that she was half naked behind, but thankfully, she was pretty damn sure neither of the men had seen her this day. Now all she had to do was fix Mr Dalliance and put herself back on top where she belonged.


That evening Jocelyn was permitted to go to her room without supper. Dinner would have been a trial, not least because Jocelyn could not contemplate sitting upon a hard dining room chair. But she still had no sensible dresses or even petticoats and while she had taken a tour of the garden all of her bloomers and breeches had been taken away leaving her only with the backless skirts she had so recklessly furnished herself.

Now she lay face down on her bed fuming at the injustice of it all and plotting revenge. But how did one get revenge on an iron man. She chewed a rueful lip as she remembered his paddle hand and iron will.

“Iron hand, iron heart and God damn his iron will,” she cursed. “I hope he bloody rusts.”

As she said it she remembered the time she had put a water bucket on her governess’s door. That had been funny enough, but mostly without consequence, but what if…?

Jocelyn ginned and with a riot of laughter and she rolled over in glee. Her mirth was momentarily cut off as her eiderdown scraped bottom. But she was undaunted. She had a plan. No she had a good plan. She would show him.

It was too late that night to find a suitable bucket and she would need to consider how to place it with some care. But now she had a plan she was happy to sleep.

But slumber came slowly and she found herself thinking on Axel’s cruel visage and wondered how he might once have looked. She thought about his hand and the relentless power of it that was so bitingly intimate with her. Over and over the events of the day played out, rearranging events in her mind… her nude upturned bottom… his wicked smile… his hand… and his… my God was that iron too?

The morning came suddenly and for a long moment Jocelyn could not remember where she was or what the day held for her. Then she remembered her Iron Governor and her humiliating afternoon constitutional around the garden.

Before that she had to report to the schoolroom with her bottom still displayed to sit, or more likely still, to stand in boredom or reading a book while he lorded-it over her. She sighed. She could always take up his offer of lessons, she thought, it might actually be fun.

But no, he was the enemy and accepting tuition would represent her defeat. Besides, she had a plan.


In many ways Axel Dalliance was a superman. His steam-borg enhancements made him stronger than most men and he had other skills too. His mechanical right eye, for instance, had a greater optical range than his natural one, being both telescopic and moderately microscopic. Other quick small adjustments could filter out ultraviolet or reveal certain light frequencies to him, like polarisation.

However, there was no doubting that even he had his limits and at the end of a long day his ravaged muscles and bones could ache and he was definitely prone to slowing down. So it was this evening as he clanked stiffly up the back stairs to his rooms. For once he certainly needed to get to his bed.

The fact that his door was ajar puzzled him, but he was too tired to think about it. No doubt one of the maids had left it after clearing his room. It wasn’t until he heard the scrape somewhere above his head as he entered that he became alarmed.

The metal bucket clashed hard against the plate in his skull and he feared for the delicate lens of his eye. Then the cascade of water sloshed him even more bitterly with its icy chill.

“Uh,” he gasped and already recoiling the now wet floor slid from under him and he crashed to the floor.

His frantic attempts to gain his feet caused him to become entangled in the now sodden rug that had been just inside the door. His chief fear was for his eye and abandoning the struggle to get up he ran it through its settings and back.

Then a horrified thought seized him. Had one of his enemies made an attack? From nearby he could hear people running and he vainly frisked about for his sword or pistol before remembering that they both in his trunk.

Then he saw the bucket hanging on a makeshift rope and someone was laughing.

“Are you alright Sir,” the maid was asking.

He looked at her angrily unaccustomed to seeing her in her nightgown. “I’m fine,” he said.

“What on Earth happened?” she asked in concern and moved to help him.

Another laugh was not her and Axel frowned.

“Oh I have an idea,” Axel muttered.


Jocelyn had been surprised to find Axel in the schoolroom as usual at nine and was glad that she had arrived on time to throw off any suspicion. Not only was he here, but he looked none the worse for wear.

“I heard about your mishap,” she said innocently. Jocelyn had taken to keeping her back to the wall on account of her nudity behind. She wasn’t yet used to the exposure and even the hope that Axel was damaged did not detract from her continued embarrassment. “I do hope you weren’t hurt.” Her expression bordered on a smile and gave her words over to being a lie.

“Not in the least,” Axel said with a casual firmness.

“Oh, I thought you might have been suffering from rust?” Jocelyn offered pertly with a smirk.

“Oh no, where would I be if I was prone to the rain? Good alloys you see. I did have some concerns about my eye, but it had a lucky escape,” Axel said pleasantly.

Jocelyn felt a pang of guilt about his eye. To cripple a man with rust seemed comical, half blinding him now seemed like a mean act. “Wh-what happened?”

“Oh just an old governess trick, a damn reckless one when using a metal bucket, someone without an iron plate in their head could have been hurt,” Axel explained almost conversationally.

Jocelyn swallowed something down and rather hoped it was her unease. “I am sure… um, that whoever did it… well they didn’t think of that,” she answered now not meeting his eyes.

“Whoever did it?” Axel said pointedly, “I do hope that ‘whoever did it’ isn’t going to add lies to their crimes.”

Jocelyn opened her mouth to answer and then closed it again.

“I heard you,” Axel said bluntly.

“I just…” she bit her lip to stem any reckless confession. What exactly had she ‘just’? He might have been killed. Why hadn’t she just borrowed her father’s pistol and had done with it?

Axel waited, his right mechanical eye lightly whirring as it focussed on his errant charge.

Jocelyn frowned and made to stamp her foot in frustration. “Alright I did it,” she blurted and in childish defiance folded her arms.

“I know,” Axel sighed and then he reached out and rang for the maid.

Was he going? Jocelyn suddenly felt an inexplicable fear that she had driven him away. Was he calling the maid to pack his bags?

The answer came swiftly. Axel moved fast and lifted her like a doll. Then in one motion he pulled up a chair and as he sat he dropped a stunned Jocelyn face down into his lap.

For a second her chief concern was for her renewed exposure, her bottom still being bare behind, and she extend the back of her hands to cover her nude bottom cheeks. But Axel was having none of it and it was as nothing to take both her wrists in his left hand and pin them in his grip to the small of her back.

His right hand attachment today was slightly lighter than his standard fitting, but this one was coated in leather and had longer tapered fingers. A better sprung joint at the wrist would make it much more resounding than his day-to-day hand and much less bruising for what he had in mind. He meant this to be a very long and very hard spanking that poor little Jocelyn would never forget.

The crack splat of the impact had a tang to it, an almost metallic echo that rang back off the walls. That first sound reached Jocelyn’s ears a micro moment before the pain impulse reached her brain. Then a cutting sting embraced both rounds of her pert bottom at once.

Her eyes flew open and she gaped in horror as she processed the spank. But there was no time for that as in a blink he spanked her again and then again with the relentless determination of a machine.

It took to maybe six or seven spanks for her to gain her breath and then she let it go in a wail. A simple protest began in “no, no, no, no, noooo…” and ended in a howl. Within a minute she was so well spanked that it was beyond her understanding and her bottom was on fire.

By the time the maid arrived Jocelyn was bawling like a five-year-old and the shameful owner of a hot sore bottom that resembled two polished tomatoes. Axel’s hapless young charge would have died of shame had she been cognisant of her audience, but for the moment her world consisted entirely of his hand, her bottom and the devil given sting.

“Y-you rang Sir?” Masie the maid whispered.

The spanking paused and Axel turned his smiling attention to the woman in the doorway. “Yes, can you wait for a few minutes?”

“Eh… yes Sir,” Masie bobbed.

“Quite a few minutes I mean?” Axel amended.

The maid grinned. “Yes Sir.”

Axel resumed the spanking as Jocelyn kicked and squirmed while all the while bawling out her protests. It took a little while but eventually, she began to splutter, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” over and over. By then they weren’t that far off the half way point and she was no doubt was very sorry.


Jocelyn was still sobbing hard as she was allowed to get to her feet, never had she felt so utterly defeated. Pain and acute embarrassment competed for her full attention and for a second the pulsing burn in her behind relegated all else. Then she saw that Masie’s professional calm demeanour, outwardly neutral, actually barely contained a mocking smile and embarrassment won out.

To compound this Axel barked, “Now my girl, will you be so good as to face the wall with your hands on your head?”

Miserably Jocelyn obeyed.

“You wanted me for something else?” the maid asked as if the well-spanked girl facing the wall was of no account.

“Yes, tell me is it still the custom to birch errant maids around her?” Axel asked.

The smile vanished from Masie’s face and she spluttered, “Why yes Sir,” and then visibly gulped as she wondered what she had done.

“The makings for a birch rod are collected from somewhere outside are they not?” Axel continued.

“Yes Sir.”

“You know the places?”

Masie nodded, still not knowing where the conversation was going.

“Return in one hour and escort our naughty little girl here to where a good rod or three can be obtained and show her how to prepare them,” Axel instructed.

Masie relaxed and allowed herself to smile as she enthusiastically said, “Yes Sir.”


Jocelyn looked like a hunted animal as she stepped onto the gravel at the side of the house. Frantically she scanned the bushes and lawn for any sign of the gardener and his boy, mindful too that the house servants had already been sneaking a discreet eyeful at her expense. She blushed fiercely.

The rasping hot sting in her bottom was in stark contrast to the cool of the garden air. It served to shamefully emphasise her exposed bottom in so public a place. It was humbling too to have to follow Masie to a place so mortifyingly associated with the discipline of the maids and anyone who saw them would know where they were going.

At the back of this was the imminent threat of a sound birching, no doubt carried out on her bare bottom and if the usual fate of the maids was anything to go by, it might well be a public event. Jocelyn’s eyes were pooled with supressed tears that the thought and having witnessed such a punishment she knew too that it would hurt and leave her skin grazed and raw.

The worse thing was, despite all her pride and protests, she could not supress the growing feeling that she thoroughly deserved her punishment. Axel had treated her no worse than he had been engaged to do and she had been more than just mean to him. She saw now that he might have been killed by her childish prank.

The idea that Axel Dalliance might be harmed suddenly filled her with dread. It was a curious thought that before this day she would not have entertained. But here she was in the garden shamefully exposed and on her way to collect birch rods for a much needed correction. The second idea blurted into her head and she blushed furiously. But there it was, when a girl had been so soundly spanked and exposed to the eyes of the world there were no longer any pretences.

Oh God, she thought as her teeth ruefully nibbled her lower, the man is a master of what he does. She knew that she had thoroughly been put in her place. Instead of anger, her heart raced at the idea and there was unusual churning in her tummy.

All this tumbled through Jocelyn’s mind as Masie led them ever deeper into the untamed woodland that abutted the garden. They passed a stand of silver birch trees, the white trunks of which seemed as glowing bars of a cage containing some leering beast deep in the shadowy recesses. Ahead there was a hazel tree with thin fingered branches pointing at her accusingly.

“Here it is,” Masie sighed. She had grim memories of her own. “Hazel makes for a better ‘birch rod,’” she said glumly, “Leastways that is what Cook says.”

Jocelyn eyed the bitter withes with a horrified fascination.

“Let me show you how to cut them Miss,” Masie said as she produced a small pair of secateurs from her pocket.


Three bound birch rods now sat in the self-same bucket of water that had been deposited on Axel’s head. A stuffed chair had been placed in the centre of the room and much to Jocelyn’s relief Masie had been dismissed. But before the she left Axel bid her wait and for one heart stopping moment Jocelyn thought she would be asked to watch after all.

“Do you have something to say to Masie?” Axel said.

Jocelyn frowned and her face coloured.

“Has she not shown you how to find and prepare these fine rods for your instruction?” Axel pressed her.

Masie was impassive and waited.

It was all Jocelyn could do to look up and meet her eyes, but at last she said, “Thank you Masie.”

The maid bobbed and turned to go.

“Ah,” Axel made a gesture with his hand and she paused. “For what are you thanking her?”

Jocelyn was momentarily confused and then she blushed. “Thank you Masie for helping me make some birch rods for… for my chastisement.”

Masie made a sympathetic face as she executed another quick bob and without waiting for further drama she hastened away.

“I suppose you are going to tell me I am a monster and that I am cruel and unjust?” Axel said sternly. His mechanical eye mad a small adjustment as he regarded her.

Jocelyn licked her lips as she shook her head, “No Sir, I know that my punishment is deserved.” She astonished herself with the honest humility of her words; it was almost as if someone else were speaking.

“Indeed,” Axel said in surprise and coked his good eye.

Jocelyn didn’t answer and dipped her gaze to the floor.

“Tell me, would you like to start again?” Axel said thoughtfully.

Jocelyn looked up and something like hope shone in her eyes.

“Your attire… do you still want to make a statement and wear breeches?” he asked. “Perhaps you would prefer something a little more appropriate?”

“Oh no Sir, I mean… yes Sir, I am so sorry…” she gushed, but her face was peony.

“I don’t intend to go easy on you, but we could dispense with the birching if you were willing say… to take up lessons again.” Axel let the words hang.

“Oh yes Sir,” Jocelyn nodded eagerly.

“I would give you a choice, to adopt some more appropriate clothing for a new start if you are agreeable. You would still be punished if you crossed me and I would be firm… but…”

“Yes Sir, oh yes please,” Jocelyn so wanted to be forgiven and she would do almost anything to escape the shameful petard she had been hoist upon.

“Very well,” Axel said, “Go to your room and tomorrow you will wear what Masie puts out of you and if our new arrangement is agreeable I will prevail upon your father to furnish you with a new wardrobe.”

“Oh thank you Sir,” Jocelyn made to hug the man but just stopped herself.

Axel coughed in embarrassment as he fended her off saying, “Until tomorrow then.”


That night Jocelyn dreamed she was lost in a deep dark wood. It wasn’t quite a nightmare, but the curious thing was that in the dream it was Axel she hoped would save her. Then strange twisted maid-like figures appeared, chasing her with birch rods and in her visons she knew that however bad the forest may be, the world beyond was so much worse. Then he came, a giant bigger than the house and scooped her up high above the trees and the whip-wielding women. Cupping in his hand he scolded her for getting lost. It was then that she remembered that she had no bloomers on and skirts that were open behind.

“I am going to spank you,” the giant Axel said.

Jocelyn wasn’t afraid, she knew she deserved it and now that she was safe.

The shush of curtains and a sudden burst of morning light shook her awake and Jocelyn rolled over blinking.

“I have laid out your things miss, you just have time for breakfast before meeting Mr Dalliance in the schoolroom,” Masie said cheerfully.

Jocelyn remembered the dream and blushed. Why should she turn to Axel if she was in danger and why would she welcome a…? The blush intensified and she was befuddled by the erotic aftermath of what she had dreamt. More strangely she felt a brief sense of loss.

Then she saw the clothes that had been laid out for her. The girlish blue sailor suit even had a floppy beret with a bobble on top. The skirt, she knew from her late childhood was obscenely short, and this one she recognised had been a little over the knee when she had last donned it at 14 or 15.

“Oh that man,” she cursed as she threw the hat across the room. Then she eyed the backless skirts of the dress she had taken off yesterday still hanging up to be cleaned. She supposed she could always appropriate the pale stockings and pantaloons from the sail suit and wear that, but it would be almost as ridiculous and would no doubt earn her another sound spanking.

Surely he won’t make me promenade around the garden this afternoon dressed like that, she thought in horror. Then she remembered that she had discarded all her grown up dresses during her rebellion and there would be no prospect of replacements for more than a week even if she were permitted any. The sailor suit was, she had to concede, better than the shameful alternative and it was after all her own fault.


“You are not really going to make me wear this?” Jocelyn pouted as she breezed into the schoolroom. She was barely 10 minutes late and Axel was already waiting.

“That is a perfectly respectable school uniform and since you have no other decent clothes I suggest that we adopt it for your lessons,” Axel replied in a dry voice. “In fact from now on you will dress this way each and every morning until after luncheon even after your new wardrobe arrives.”

Jocelyn was about to protest again but she couldn’t deny that it was her own fault she had only breeches and backless gowns to wear, besides for the moment there was a more important battle. “And until then?” she said.

“You will dress thusly morning, afternoon and in the evening,” he told her.

“But Axel,” she wailed.

“Sir or Mr Dalliance to you,” Axel barked.

“But Sir….” Jocelyn made a pout again.

“You have an alternative suggestion, and I warn you not to suggest breeches, I have had them all burned anyway,” Axel countered.

“No,” Jocelyn said sullenly.

“Good, now we have another matter to attend to,” Axel sighed wearily.

“Aren’t we going to start… this German and engineering malarkey?” she asked.

“I rather think that will have to wait until tomorrow now, this morning we must attend to your tardiness,” Axel told her.

“My…? But I was…” Jocelyn became coy and defensive, biting her lower lip.

“You are to be soundly spanked and sent to the corner for the remainder of the morning,” Axel informed her. “Take it with good grace and you will be permitted your afternoon exercise without further… shaming.”

Jocelyn could only gape, but she knew what further shaming might entail and after all, reluctantly she supposed, had been late. “Oh,” she miserably sighed.

The shame of baring her bottom again was far worse than coming pain, she thought as she was tumbled across his lap, a feeling that only intensified as her short sailor suit skirts and petticoat was raised off her cotton-clad behind. Last time she had already been bare by this point and had not had time to contemplate the humiliation, but now she blushed furiously as she felt a tug at her bloomers.

The shameful touch of air on her exposed behind made her gasp, but not for long. The first spank had a tang to equal a summer nettle and within three or four she had forgotten her embarrassment and was wailing like a child.

Her heavy breathing through clenched teeth gave her cries a grizzling sound and she kicked her heels in distress. But it was the dome of her bottom bore the brunt and her hot cherry cheeks sizzled under the onslaught of Axel’s spanking hand.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she wailed, big tears now rolling down her face.

“I know,” Axel soothed, but his hand had rather less sympathy.

“”I’ll be good, I’ll be good,” she bleated and then actually boo-hooed.

“Are you going to go to the corner like a good girl?” Axel said at last.

“Oh yes,” Jocelyn said eagerly through broken sobs.

“Very well then,” Axel growled, “I want to see your nose tight to the wall and your hands neatly folded into the small of your back.”

“Yes Sir,” she sniffed.

“I think I’ll open this door and let in some air,” Axel said once she was humbly secure in the corner.

Jocelyn glared in horror into the wall, she just knew the maids would make gratuitous passes and giggle at her expense. Inwardly she groaned, but further complaint would only make things worse.


That night Jocelyn dreamed that she had been summoned to see her Iron Master. Only instead of the school room she was brought along to a huge hall where some kind of ball was in progress. Amid ladies and girls of her own age dressed in gowns, she appeared in her sailor skirt. The smirks and laughter were shameful but through it all there was an erotic air she could not throw off.

“Young lady you are late,” Axel said imperiously, “You must be spanked.”

“Yes Sir,” she replied and instead of embarrassment she felt quite giddy. “I know I deserve it.”

Amid eager chants and applause she was soundly spanked on the bare bottom in front of everyone.

“You must hate me now,” Axel said sadly as harshly he spanked her.

“Oh no,” she gushed, “I love you.”

Jocelyn awoke with a start and sat up. There was a young woman cloaked in a mess of cotton staring back at her from the mirror across the room. As stare as she may she could see no hint of herself in the image.


The woman dressed as a girl felt as one deposited on a strange shore. The sailor suit was ill-fitting and itched in all the wrong places. Had Jocelyn been required to wear it for her old life she would have died of shame, but now it seemed oddly appropriate for her new adventure.

The principles of modern steam engines were more interesting than she could have guessed and for three days straight she arrived in the schoolroom on time. Her first afternoon walking the grounds in the sailor suit was indeed embarrassing, but not as bad has the risk of exposing her naked posterior on former days and by supper time instead of shame felt liberation.

Ironically she was only late on the fifth day of the new regime because she suddenly remembered that her father had a book on steam power in his library and she had made a detour to fetch it. Of course Axel would accept no excuses and she quickly found herself turned over his knee with her bottom bared for a long sob-jerking spanking.

“I’m sorry Sir,” she sniffed as she executed an awkward curtsey before meekly going to the corner without being told.

So the days past, some in study and some banished to the corner after a sound spanking. Then each night she would dream of Axel Dalliance and his cruel ways punishing her beyond endurance.

Even when finally she was allowed to wear some grown-up clothes for her afternoon constitutional, she scarcely minded anymore. Although she could not admit it, even to herself, she wore them because Axel had told her too, and that gave her an odd thrill. The sailor suit was a badge of submission to him and she even missed it outside of the school room.

Like many new converts the tamed rebel began to embrace the idea of discipline. Punishments for a girl were a good thing, she decided, they made her a better person. Besides, at least she was no longer bored.

Jocelyn did not actively court a punishment, not to her mind anyway, but the daily risk of incurring Axel’s displeasure gave her life a hint of jeopardy. Another benefit of behaving was the small praise she sometimes gathered and when she was complimented it was hard won and she blushed, giving her a small warm glow that lasted for hours.

It had been foolish of her to flout the conventions of society in the face of her father’s displeasure. Of course he had objected and it was no wonder that he did not trust her to ‘come out’ as the world chose to call it. But she would show him.

Such thoughts rolled around in her head as she took her afternoon and with each step she reflected on her past follies. Most made her smile and she blushed to think of the gardeners getting an eyeful of her exposed derriere when she had been at her most defiant. But one past sin increasingly troubled and grew in her mind. How could she have thought Axel a monster? He had been a hero and a champion in adversity. He had conquered not only his charge, but misfortune as well. What a nasty rude and foolish girl she had been.

One day after class Jocelyn went to her room and changed into her most grown-up clothes. She was a woman now, even if she had not formally come-out and she wanted to appear such for what she had to do. Then in her best feminine armour, a grey bodice dress button tight to her neck, she made her way to the schoolroom where she knew Axel would be preparing for the next day’s lesson.

The hard wood door was unyielding on her knuckles and her heart pounded in her chest as she knocked and then waited.

“I don’t need anything,” Axel called from within.

“Mr Dalliance, Sir,” Jocelyn ventured hesitantly.

“Jocelyn?” Axel said from within, a moment later the door opened.

Axel Dalliance’s one good eye appeared pensive while the cool steel-glass of the other focussed on her with an unintended malevolence. Jocelyn could hear it whirring as it automatically sought an appropriate setting.

“C-can I… can I talk to you for a moment Sir?” she asked with a bite of her lower lip.

“Come in,” Axel said casually as he stepped away backwards and waved her in with a slight bow.

After the door closed there was an awkward silence and Axel bade her sit. Jocelyn refused wordlessly and inclined her gaze to the floor. The school desks were set out in rows as they had been in her father’s childhood, where generations of the Deveraux’s had sat before. They were now ready for another perhaps, her own children, she wondered.

“You have something to ask me perhaps… about engineering or was it mathematics?” Axel said patiently.

Jocelyn made a small shake with her head and swallowed hard. “No Sir,” she whispered.

Axel frowned and waited.

“Firstly, I… I want to thank you for… well everything,” Jocelyn blushed. “I am sorry I was so much trouble when you arrived.”

Axel allowed himself something of a smile and a small nod of approval. He was about to thank her gruffly for her words when she made to say more.

“I am sorry too for what I said about you… I-I,” she took a deep breath, “I called you a monster and other things… I…” she choked and realised that she might cry.

“We have had quite a journey together in such a short time… I think we have both learned…” Axel coughed. He was a monster, he knew it and she had been brave and stalwart. All was well and it was better left now, he thought.

“No, please, I am so ashamed, I was a beast,” Jocelyn was gushing now and there was an eager shrillness to her voice. “I…” she swallowed again and with a broken sigh she whispered, “I need you to punish me.”

“If you are so much as a minute late for class or show me disrespect then I will, but…” Axel offered gently.

Jocelyn cut him off. “Please listen, I feel so badly about what I said, you a good and kind man and… and…” she blushed and looked away.

“I am hardly kind,” he muttered.

“I deserve to be punished and soundly too, you know like you do… no worse, as bad as… I mean as good as you have ever given anyone… I probably need more than just a good spanking… have the maid fetch a good birch rod or have me do it…” she gushed. “Maybe you should cane me,” she added.

“I have a good mind to do it too,” he chuckled, “But I think my work is done. I can see you have really learned your lesson.”

“Oh don’t say that, I am still a very bad girl, really I am,” she wailed.

“Thank you for coming to me, your apology is accepted,” he said, “Now I have some work to do.”

“Yes Sir,” Jocelyn sighed.

Axel gave her that half smile of his and opened the door for her in the spirit of indulgence. Jocelyn, who ought to have felt better nodded and reluctantly followed his lead. Only when the door closed firmly behind her did she feel utterly wretched.

She took no more than three steps before she knew what she had to do.


The second knock at Axel’s door was an unwelcome interruption. He had hoped to get his letter off and prepare the next day’s lesson in time for a walk before his evening meal while it was still light. He was about to tell whoever it was to go away when the door opened.

Jocelyn looked flustered but quickly composed herself.

“I am really sorry Sir,” she said breathily as if she had been running. “I went to fetch this,” she added and held out her arm.

The hairbrush was her own, a short stout affair of polished black wood.

“Jocelyn…” he began.

“Please Sir… I…” her eyes teared up.

“Alright, but I won’t need that,” he growled.

To Jocelyn’s surprise he rang for the maid and a thousand bats took flight in her tummy. Was he going to have the maid fetch a rod and birch her? Her eyes were wide with horrified fascination.

Masie came quickly but did not hide her surprise at finding Jocelyn there at this time.

“Ah good,” Axel said absently without looking up from a pretended interest in his letter. “Your mistress here needs a good spanking and I will attend to it in due course. Meanwhile, take some pins and adjust her skirts behind so that they are pinned to her waist. Oh and you may as well take her bloomers to the laundry, she won’t be requiring them again today.

“Sir,” the answer had the tone of an unasked question and the maid shot a quizzical look at Jocelyn whose face glowed red.

Jocelyn would rather have kept the matter between them but perhaps she deserved some shaming. Then she chided herself, no she definitely deserved some shaming.

Masie executed a quick bob and left the room for a moment. When she returned she held a small sewing box and with a matter-of-fact shrug she knelt behind her young mistress and one by one began pinning up her skirts. Once Jocelyn’s cotton clad bottom was exposed and all the skirts and petticoats were pinned to her waist, the maid quickly and efficiently tugged at the ties and pulled the bloomers down to bare her legs and bottom to casual exposure.

“You may go,” Axel said once Masie had completed the operation, “And you Miss Deveraux may go and stand in the corner with your hands firmly on your head until I am ready to deal with you.

“Yes Sir,” both women said in unison, a coincidence that caused them both to exchange a red-faced glance.

By the time Masie had made to leave Jocelyn was already standing with her nose firmly in the corner and still nursing a vivid blush.


“So you truly wish to make amends do you?” Axel addressed Jocelyn’s neat tapered back and exposed pert bottom which was still ensconced in the corner.

“I think I… I deserve to be punished for all of those awful things I said,” she ventured.

“But you were punished,” Axel chuckled, “Don’t you remember? And soundly too.”

“Yes but…” the heat rose to her face and she sighed. “Oh this is so… oh, oh…” she ducked her head in shame. “I was yes, but I wasn’t sorry, not really, I just resented it… so it didn’t really count,” she offered.

Axel nodded. “You think I won’t spank you properly if you ask and say you’re sorry?”

Jocelyn swallowed hard. She partly hoped that was so, but in truth she would have been disappointed if he went easy on her, it would be a mark of weakness on his part, or so she thought.

“You wish me to squirm in shame, I know I deserve it,” she whispered.

Axel shrugged and took pity then. “Very well,” he agreed and wondered if he wasn’t going to enjoy this.

“Come here and across my knee,” he growled, “Make yourself comfortable for you will be here a while.”

In forlorn resignation Jocelyn peeled herself from the wall and as a woman condemned she trudged across the school room to the lap of doom.

Axel’s thighs were iron hard and she felt herself pinned securely so that for a moment she felt safely ensconced in a safe haven. Then she remembered her bare bottom still exposed to his gaze and her heart raced. Even the measured pat of his hand stung her bottom and she gasped.

Then the first true spank blasted down with an enduring burn and her eyes flew open wide. There was no time to consider the tingle of fire or the tang of the impact of his leather-coated metal hand, for with the relentlessness of a steam piston, his arm swept down again and stung her more. Had she retained the coolness of mind she might have gauged that the spanking continued with a meticulous 43 swats a minute, but the overwhelming sting burned away such reckoning and Jocelyn howled like scalded banshee with wails that could be heard the house over.

Axel held her fast as she strained under the onslaught, dispassionately watching as her cool white flesh prickled taut with 10,000 goosebumps as first it went pink and then darkened to a pure strawberry.

Jocelyn for her part bawled like a sorry sister of shame as tears streamed down her face and broken apologies stuttered impotently from her lips.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she wailed as searing minute followed minute and the two hot spheres of her bottom were put far beyond sitting for many days to come.

Five or 10 minutes is an overstretched age for a girl when she is getting a good sound spanking so the heavens only knew how long 20 or even 30 minutes was to her. This spanking lasted so long that throughout the house wherever Jocelyn’s cries could be heard the maids had long stopped smirking and exchanging grins and had felt their own bottoms tighten in sympathetic dread. If their young mistress could be spanked so, then it did not bode well for their own tender behinds.

Jocelyn herself had long since abandoned hope that the spanking would end and wondered if it would have been less punishing to sit upon a bed of coals.

“Now young lady, I trust you are sorry?” Axel said at last.

“Oh yes Sir, truly, truly,” she gushed through her snot-nosed cascade of tears. She would have done anything then to be allowed to rub her bottom and would have done it twice if she could only sit in a bucket of ice.

She had not yet seen it, but her bottom was as two polished cherries just then and the caress of a feather would have been as torment to her.

“Now my girl, you ask to be punished. There is a principal at stake and for the remainder of this afternoon you will stand in the corner with your hands upon your head. If you so much as dare take your nose from that wall or attempt the least fumble of a rub of your bottom, so help me I will spank you again so that you will think that this last correction is only play pats.” Axel’s tone was so rich with menacing command that Jocelyn could not dream of defiance.

“Yes Sir,” she sniffed. Her hands fluttered in futile proxy and she stamped her feet in a vain attempt to shake out the sting. Careful what you ask for, she thought miserably. “Yes Sir,” she said again and he thought she might renew her crying. Nevertheless, as she took up her pennant vigil she felt cleansed of all sin and finally forgiven.


“A remarkable change, remarkable,” Lord Deveraux said enthusiastically.

Jocelyn stood demurely before him with her head inclined to the floor, the picture of a respectable young woman. “Yes Sir,” she said dutifully.

“Well I suppose I can see no further impediment to your coming out next month, none at all,” her father continued to enthuse.

“No Sir,” Jocelyn agreed without particular joy.

Coming out and being presented at court was all she had dreamt of for years. It was the mark of becoming a woman and her childhood years would be banished forever. But with that change Axel would leave them and she couldn’t bear it.

“I expect you will want a new gown and…” Jocelyn barely listened to her father’s plans and continued to play her part as a well-trained woman. “And I suppose you will want a husband…” her father continued.

For some reason an image of Axel popped into her head. She pictured herself on his arm as a tutor’s wife or perhaps the headmaster’s wife or… she blushed, giddy with insight.

“Are you alright Jocelyn,” her father asked solicitously.

She perked up then and with a faux smile quickly responded, “Oh yes father, quite.”

With barely a pause to ring for tea her father resumed his discourse and Jocelyn could only smile and nod between meek offerings of ‘yes sir.’


Axel was almost packed when she found him. Visits to his room were strictly verboten and she half expected a scolding. But if he had spanked her she would hardly have cared, not today.

“You are really going then?” she said quietly.

“My work here is done,” he shrugged.

“But my mathematics, my modern engineering appreciation… surely…” she protested.

“Young women don’t need such disciplines, or the German, not that I object. Those lessons were merely a device and you know it.”

She did and drew her mouth into a pensive line. “But I quite enjoyed them, really I did. I have some books… I have even read them,” she pressed him.

“There are women’s colleges,” Axel offered unenthusiastically.

“But couldn’t we…?” Jocelyn sighed.

“Couldn’t we what?” Axel growled and with an angry flurry began folding the last if his clothes for the trunk.

“I love you,” she said simply.

He froze and for a moment his prosthetic eye worked vigorously as if struggling to focus on something just beyond his gaze. Then as if she hadn’t spoken he finished his packing.

“Did you hear what I said?” she whispered.

He nodded.

“We could elope,” she said. “I’ll soon be 21 and I will have my own money.”

“You have money do you?” he rounded on her. “Is that what you think of me? And what of your father’s trust?”

“Don’t you love me?” she asked.

He softened as much as an iron man ever could. His nod was small and one could have almost missed it.

“Is there no hope, no hope at all?” Jocelyn was almost crying now.

Axel Dalliance then found himself and stood erect. He was her master again and she his student.

“What do you want from life?” he asked.

“You,” she answered.

“What do you really want? What is it that I represent?” his gaze was fixed on her now.

She felt for a moment as if he was testing her and failure would earn her a spanking.

“I… I don’t want to be another shire wife, I don’t want…”

“What do you want?” he pressed her sharply.

“I want what I do to matter. I want there to be a consequence if I fail… I want to see the world you showed me… above all, I want you and all the things I…” she stopped.

“I represent danger and the exotic. I offer some of what you want, but look at me? I am no ordinary man. I am both less and more than a man. You love me or think you do, but you are young…”

“Give me a chance,” she urged.

He paused and considered.

“If you do not want the life mapped out for you, then chose another. There are indentured opportunities in the city. Some industries even take girl apprentices I hear and a well-spoken girl with your education might gain a clerical post. If you become other than you are and see the world then… then perhaps a few years from now…” Axel’s voice carried urgent conviction.

“Will you write? Will you let me…” she was crying now.

“I think you will meet a young man and forget all about me,” he chuckled. “But if you want to write and if you still feel the same in two or three years…” He shrugged, “Well who knows…”

“I’ll do it,” she said with an emphatic nod.

“That is up to you,” he shrugged again. Then he paused, his prosthetic eye whirring as if trying to focus on a world yet to be. “Find a whole man, someone younger, but if you want to write…”

There was nothing left to be said and after a fashion he smiled.


Jocelyn Deveraux was scarcely recognisable. On top she was tightly bodiced to bursting point, her piled-high hair tucked under a riding hat complete with new-fangled googles. It was quite the vogue among the younger set and might have escaped notice had it not been for the tight worsted breeches that accentuated her curves.

Once a rebel, she thought with a smile, if Axel could see me know he would so spank me. She let her teeth test her lower lip at this thought and glanced around to see if a passer-by would guess. Seeing no one she snorted derisively at herself and then set about finding the turn for her appointment.

Marley and Dexter had advertised for a clerical assistant in their shipping department. The notice in The Times had promised young ladies would be considered by ‘this progressive go-ahead company,’ but that any young woman applying could ‘expect to accept traditional apprentice discipline.’ Jocelyn knew what that meant, she ruefully pondered. But she was ready.

“Axel Dalliance, I love you,” she sighed and then put her best foot forward.

7 Responses to “The Iron Governor”

  1. 1 Ripley

    Wow. Great story. I love your steampunk! (Though, I do think Axel could have been a little less mean.) 🙂

  2. 2 Lucy Lockett

    Brilliant story!

  3. 3 DJ

    Many thanks 🙂

  4. 4 meganmichaels

    Loved this…please say you’ll continue with this:)

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