The Whipping Maid of House Calley - Chapter 26

When they were about halfway through the meal, Count Bernard Calley spoke in a solemn voice, “I asked everyone to dine together today in order to solidify Cedric’s position as the heir of the Calley family.”

At Bernard’s words, Marisa rolled her eyes, openly displeased, and Alfonso nodded as if he’d known this moment would come.

“As you all know, we still haven’t held the formal heir appointment ceremony that has been passed down as tradition within the family. We had planned to do it before Cedric left to study abroad, but postponed it at Cedric’s request to hold it after his return. Now that he’s completed his studies safely, it seems the time for the ceremony has come.”

Marisa picked up Bernard’s words. “We’re planning to make the ceremony grand. We’ll invite not only our relatives, but many nobles and high-ranking clergy as well.”

A few days ago, Marisa and Bernard had argued once again over the matter of the ceremony. The disagreement had been over the timing.

Marisa had suggested early next year, while Bernard seemed unwilling to let the year end without holding it.

As always, Bernard hadn’t given a clear answer. And in the end, he was making the announcement like this.

Since her husband had already brought it up, Marisa decided not to oppose him, and instead resolved to host a celebration grand enough to humble the noses of the other nobles as a way to satisfy her own vanity.

Marisa looked at Alfonso, Allen, and Judith as she said, “It’ll be a good opportunity for you to expand your connections as well.”

At her words, the three of them, excluding Cedric, looked excited.

“You’re inviting His Highness the Crown Prince too, right? I heard you studied abroad together.”

Before Cedric could respond, Bernard and Marisa reacted first to Alfonso’s nosy comment.

“Will that be possible?”

Seeing even their parents show interest, Cedric answered briefly, “I’ll send a letter. He’s probably too busy to attend.”

Even though Cedric’s answer leaned toward the negative, Marisa spoke with great delight, “We should spread the rumor that we’re inviting His Highness the Crown Prince.”

If word spread that even the Crown Prince was invited, the Calley heir appointment ceremony would appear all the more prestigious, unquestionably elevating the Calley family’s status.

After all, the part about the invitation itself would be true. And rumors were unofficial by nature! Whether the Crown Prince came or not was a later issue.

By not objecting, Bernard showed he agreed with his wife’s idea, and spoke again,

“Starting now, we’ll have the servants use the title ‘Young Count’ when addressing him. They need to get used to it so no one makes a mistake on an important occasion.”

At her husband’s words, Marisa pouted.

It seemed likely that the count’s chambers would once again be noisy after dinner.

***

‘Birch switches….’

Sheila’s eyes trembled at the sight of the newly introduced bundle of rod switches.

Birch was different from ordinary switches.

Birch branches were often tied together in bundles and used as a switch.

Thanks to its flexibility, it wouldn’t hurt much if struck over clothing, but on bare skin, it was sure to hurt quite a bit.

‘I thought we were sticking with the usual switch….’

Until now, she had always been beaten with a single, thin switch. Sheila had never imagined he’d use a different kind of rod.

After her recent bout of body aches, Cedric had gone back to striking her calves, and while her calves were being beaten, the wounds on her thighs had slowly healed. That was probably thanks to the ointment Cedric had been applying every day.

She felt like they could stop applying it now, but Cedric kept slathering it on generously, which she didn’t like.

At this rate, all that liberal usage might ruin Sheila’s plan to sell the leftover ointment.

Still… getting hit with that bundle of switches was going to hurt terribly, wasn’t it?

Even if you were struck the same number of times, the effect would be similar to being beaten ten times with an ordinary switch.

‘Isn’t that way too unfair?’

Sheila already felt wronged before even being hit, but before the most traditional of all tools, the birch switch bundle, she had no choice but to accept her fate.

But today, Cedric’s questions felt unusually numerous.

It would’ve been nice if it were just a feeling, but reality wasn’t much different.

“How many did you get wrong?”

“Thirty… nine.”

At Cedric’s question after finishing the lesson, Sheila answered stiffly, full of nerves.

Yesterday she’d taken twenty-one strikes, so the number had increased by eighteen. It was nearly double.

Whether he knew she was trembling in fear or not, Cedric stood up holding the bundle of switches and ordered in a flat voice, “Lift your skirt.”

A memory flashed through her mind: exactly one week ago, when she’d taken thirty-three strokes on her thighs, then washed laundry and worked side jobs afterward and ended up with body aches….

But Sheila had no choice but to bare her thighs again. While her calves had been getting beaten, her thighs had healed a lot.

Besides, if he struck her calves with that birch bundle, the areas visible under her skirt would undoubtedly get injured.

Just as Sheila finished deciding, she lifted her skirt above her thighs. At that moment, the first strike came immediately.

Smack!

‘Ahhk.’

Sheila swallowed a groan as the bundle delivered a sharp yet heavy pain.

But it was only one strike. She could endure it for now. As always, she should be able to handle up to twenty.

Believing that, Sheila clutched her rolled-up skirt even tighter.

Two, three, four….

Since he hadn’t ordered her to count, Sheila kept track silently.

With each strike, the pain grew clearer.

…fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eightee-

“Ahhk!”

At Sheila’s increasingly sharp cry, Cedric paused.

As always, Judith, who’d been sniffling since the beginning, burst into loud sobs.

Ignoring the irritating noise, Cedric looked coldly at Sheila’s thighs.

The thighs he’d been diligently treating every day, gradually returning to pale white, were flushed red again. After nearly twenty strikes with the birch bundle, it was inevitable.

And it must have hurt more than the usual switch.

But the maid’s body aches had seemed to disappear by the next day, and the wounds on her thighs healed visibly day by day.

With Molly, who’d been away for her wedding leave, now returned, the burden of maid work should have lessened as well.

Cedric gripped the bundle tightly.

Nineteen, twenty, twenty-one.

“Aaagh, ugh, ahhk!”

When the beating resumed, Sheila cried out even more desperately.

But Cedric didn’t falter and swung the bundle again to fulfill the required count.

Smack, smack, smack.

Twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty-four.

“Hhngh!”

Sheila twisted her waist, tilting her head back as she stomped her feet.

“Stand straight,” Cedric ordered.

She couldn’t collapse yet.

At his command, Sheila forced herself upright again.

Smack!

“Aaagh!”

But after just one strike, she was stomping and twisting again.

“Straight.”

At Cedric’s cold voice, Sheila straightened herself once more. Her thin stomach trembled as if barely holding on.

Smack!

“Ugh!”

Sheila clenched her teeth and managed not to fall, but now even the arms holding her skirt were trembling.

Smack!

“Urrg!”

Sheila stretched her body and threw her head back, a faint sob escaping with her exhale.

There were still twelve strikes left.

Judith cried louder and louder. Cedric’s brows drew together at the noise.

Sheila was being beaten because of Judith in the first place, but that fact no longer mattered.

“Stop crying, Judith.”

Cedric’s warning voice was chilling. But instead of stopping, Judith sobbed as she answered, “Judith, hhic, will work hard, I’ll study…, hic.”

“I feel like I’ve heard that many times already.”

“Judith…, hhic, is really trying. I mean it.”

“If you’d really tried, the results would be different.”

Ignoring Sheila, the one actually being beaten, the two continued their conversation. Sheila, dumbfounded, straightened her posture again, and immediately the switch came flying.

Smack!

“Hk!”

Smack!

“Ugh!”

Sheila couldn’t endure even two more. Her posture collapsed.

“There are ten left. Continue immediately.”

“Yes…, hhic! No, wait…, just a moment….”

Hearing that ten still remained, Sheila couldn’t think straight. She needed a moment to brace herself again.

Sheila carefully touched her aching thigh. The places struck by the branches had swollen up in uneven lumps.

At the shocking texture, Sheila genuinely wanted to cry. But she clenched her teeth again.

It was better to finish quickly.

Dragging it out would only lengthen the suffering.

Smack! Smack! Smack!

“Ugh, ngh, hhic!”

But again, she collapsed after only three strikes.

“There are seven left. Posture.”

“W-wait…, hngh….”

Sheila pleaded toward Cedric, her face flushed bright red.

Cedric’s downward stare fixed on her.

‘What’s with that look…? As if I’m pathetic? It hurts so damn much, you….’

Stung in her pride, Sheila held herself together and corrected her posture. She might look like this, but she’d survived five years as a maid on grit alone.

Her arms braced against the fireplace frame trembled violently, so she gripped tighter.

“You’ll count the rest out loud yourself.”

At Cedric’s words, harsh enough to make even a devil cry, Sheila doubted her own ears, and then clenched her teeth out of sheer spite.

Smack!

“Ugh… one.”

Following Cedric’s command, Sheila counted each strike as it landed.

Smack!

“Hhhk! Two.”

Smack!

She counted steadily, but the whole time she was on the brink.

Before she knew it, only three remained, but Sheila no longer had any confidence.

‘Should I ask him to cut just three?’

At this point, pride or whatever didn’t matter. The words were at the tip of her tongue.

Then, Sheila suddenly remembered herself whenever other maids asked her to reduce the washing fee.

“Huh? Today? Okay, I’ll leave it with you. I will. But just lower it by one lera. I even pay for this myself.”

“Six leras.”

“Sheila, please, can’t you let me pay later just this once? I’ll hand it over the moment I get my wages!”

“No.”

She had never reduced her fee, not even once. She wouldn’t even allow delayed payment.

If even someone like her, a lowly maid, never lowered her price, would Cedric Calley reduce the number of strikes?

From what she’d seen these past weeks, Cedric was a strict, principle-bound man who liked everything precise. He’d written out a detailed contract and paid her ten solids up front.

In a situation like this, asking for fewer strikes… even she knew how ridiculous that sounded.

‘If I ask him to reduce it, he might say I’m going back on my word and demand I return the money.’

She’d already spent a large sum on Molly’s wedding gift thanks to receiving that advance. She absolutely couldn’t afford to return it.

Sheila made up her mind.

She wouldn’t say even half a syllable of “reduce it.”