But Father was saved the trip, for, a short time later, Mr. Raleigh drove up to the house. After he had been welcomed, Father explained what he and Mother had been talking about.
“I'm afraid even if Lucille turned all her wages over to you, it wouldn't prove of any great help, Zack,” Mr. Raleigh said. “Even in the cities, domestic help doesn't get more than six dollars a week and board. Besides, while I'd like to help you out, I've come to regard Lucille as sort of a younger sister and would feel rather strange about hiring her to work for me.”
“Then I guess we're going to be plenty up against it this winter,” Father said mournfully.
“Maybe not,” Mr. Raleigh said slowly, after he had glanced at me speculatively several times.
“You say you've no security to offer for a loan, but you're thinking in terms of banking finance. Now, if you want a loan from me, I can let you have up to five thousand dollars for as long as you wish and for security you can turn Lucille over to me. She can remain with me as my ward, as a sort of guardian till you find it convenient to pay off the loan.”
“Do you really mean that, Mr. Raleigh?” Father asked excitedly. “You'll let me have five thousand without security-all I have to do is let you keep Lucille to guarantee the money'll be paid back?”
“Right,” Mr. Raleigh agreed. “Of course, there are a few strings attached to my offer. One is that Lucille will regard me as her guardian, and that as her guardian, I shall be privileged to give her a whipping whenever she is disobedient, the same as you and your wife do. Do you object to that?”
“Not at all,” Father replied. “In fact, if Lucille isn't obedient to everything you tell her, we'd expect you to give her a licking.”
“Now there's one other point,” Mr. Raleigh continued. “Is Lucille strong and healthy?”
“She ain't been sick for a long time,” Mother spoke up, “and she's strong enough to do housework, the same as me.”
“I'm afraid,” he said slowly, “that it would be best to examine her.”
“You mean-undressed?” asked Mother.
Mr. Raleigh nodded, while I shrank back, looking at him horrifiedly. He said, “There's no need for her to feel strange about it. She wouldn't feel strange about undressing before you, and as her guardian I shall be taking your place.”
When my parents seemed to hesitate he drew his checkbook out of his pocket and uncapped his fountain pen. That settled the question for my parents; to them, money was far more important than their daughter's modesty.
“Lucille, go over to Mr. Raleigh,” directed Father.
I wanted to protest it. It seemed bad enough to know they were willing to turn me over to him with the privileges of him whipping me as they themselves had done so many times, but to know I had to get undressed and let him examine me seemed entirely too cruel.
“Did you hear me, Lucille?” Father demanded. “Now you look sharp when I speak to you, young lady, or I'll get the strap and teach you some manners.”
And Mother added: “You mind your father's wish and do what he tells you, or I'll take off my slipper and give you a good taste of it before he takes you out to the woodshed.”
Having been trained to always do exactly what they said, and seeing that they intended to make me submit to practically every request Mr. Raleigh made, I bowed my head and walked obediently over to where he sat.
“You must learn to be a good girl, Lucille, and mind what you are told, so my first duty as your guardian will now be to put you over my knees and give you a spanking,” Mr. Raleigh said. “Now take off your dress like an obedient little girl.”
With my fingers trembling and tears of shame welling up and blinding my eyes, I unfastened the snaps on my dress and pulled it up over my head, letting it fall to the floor at my feet.
“Your slip, too, my dear,” ordered Mr. Raleigh.
Slowly I pulled the slip over my head and let it join the discarded dress on the floor. That left me standing before him clad in just a cheap dance set of rayon consisting of step-ins and brassiere.
“You make a very attractive picture, my dear,” Mr. Raleigh declared as I stood timidly before him. “As an artist who appreciates real grace and charm, I must commend you on your poise. And your figure is far more mature and interesting than I ever suspected. But we must continue with our examination.”
CHAPTER 3: HIS BEAUTIFUL SLAVE
He arose from his chair and personally unfastened my brassiere from the back, removing it and letting it fall onto my dress and slip. As my breasts were exposed to his view, my hands wanted to fly up instinctively to protect them, because nobody except my own parents had ever seen me undressed so shamefully before. But as I started the movement with a stifled sob of shame, my mother frowned at me in disapproval, and shook her head warningly. Both she and Father were anxious for me to do nothing to offend Mr. Raleigh which might spoil their chances of getting the loan. They knew as well as I that I was not being subjected to a medical examination, but merely being inspected like a slave to satisfy Mr. Raleigh that I had a perfectly formed body. I felt as alone and helpless as a slave girl must feel when she is put upon the auction block, stripped of her clothes, and sold to the highest bidder. And that thought seemed all the more true then, because I had read in history books that slave girls were made to undress under the whip… and, well, if I hadn't taken off my clothes of my own free will, Mother and Father would both have whipped me. They said as much. So I submitted to all that followed with the same resignation. I knew resistance was useless and there was no one I could appeal to for help. All I could do was remain passive and hope my submissiveness would win Mr. Raleigh's approval.
After he had removed my brassiere, he looked at my exposed charms thoroughly. He conducted the examination slowly, and leisurely, making only a slight pretense at its being medical. After he had felt the muscles of my arms and inspected the soft texture of my skin, he turned his attention to my step-ins.
“I'm afraid we shall have to take these off you, too, my dear,” he said, catching his forefinger under the elastic at the waist of them. “This is once when you will have your panties taken down when it will not be for a whipping. That is, you will not be given a whipping if you continue to be a well-behaved girl. Of course, if you aren't, then I shall have to borrow your father's strap and spank you until you are ready to behave.”
Knowing it was not an idle threat, and that Father would willingly go after the strap to whip me, and the inspection of me would go on after I had been punished anyway, I remained still as he slipped the step-ins down from my hips and let them fall to my ankles.
“Just step out of them, my dear, and lie here on my knees,” he directed.
He seated himself and gestured for me to lie face downward across his lap. Only too anxious to hide my shamed face from his gaze, I willingly assumed the ignoble pose over his knees. I was almost dying of shame and had to fight the impulse to cry, because I had nothing on before this man except my stockings, rolled at the tops over elastic garters, and my shoes. But my parents said not a word, and I knew with despair and fear as well as my supreme embarrassment that they approved whatever he did, so it was useless for me to plead my modesty.
As soon as he had me correctly posed over his knees, he gazed fascinatedly at my posteriors and then began to pinch them painfully. When he could prolong the inspection no longer, he permitted me to stand up while he praised my legs and thighs, then made me assume a variety of spanking poses: bending over and touching my ankles with my hands, kneeling on the floor with my head and shoulders bowed down, bending across his left hip when he put his arm around my waist to hold me in place, kneeling on the chair with my head in my arms against the back. And my parents didn't protest at any time, but watched, seeming to approve of his knowledge of how to spank a girl when she needed it. Each time he gave me some instructions he emphasized them with a smack on my bottom with his hand. He seemed to find it very fascinating, and smacked it as much as possible. I don't know how I kept from crying, for I was in an agony of mortification, and I tried not to look at him all through the ordeal. The examination lasted for nearly an hour, and I felt I had no physical secrets left from Mr. Raleigh by the time he finished staring at me. I cannot describe my feelings during it. At times, I was filled with a nameless terror, such as one has on waking from a nightmare. Yet I knew this was no dream from which I could awaken. Instead, I knew I was being sold by my parents. My only hope was that a display of complete submission to his orders would cause my master — for such he was-to treat me kindly…
