Carrick saw the fear in the slave's eyes - fear and something else; something akin to awe. It was in the way she shivered when she looked at him. He used to tip of the hunting crop to push back a strand of her hair over her shoulder, letting the stiff leather caress her skin briefly before moving it under the slave's chin as a gesture for her to keep her face tilted up to him.
"My name, in this century at least, is Lord Carrick. And I have a certain... reputation, when it comes to the discipline of slaves Entirely deserved, I'll freely admit. Your Master feels that you are in need of punishment from a firmer hand and cooler head than his. You'll find both with me."
He fixed her with his pitiless grey gaze. "I will warn you in advance, girl. Tears and pleas and begging for mercy will not move me to mercy. In fact they'll only make your punishment worse. I expect you to take your discipline and take it without complaint. Scream and weep and sob as much as you need to, but don't expect your pain to be lessened because of it."
Carrick stood up and crossed the room, picking up a carved wooden chair he had moved into the living room from the dining room. Straight backed and armless, it was ideal to use for the first part of Jenn's punishment. He took off his dark riding jacket, folding it neatly, then unfastening his shirt cuffs. He sat down and stretched out his legs, The shining leather of his riding boots creaked as he moved.
"I'm sure you realise by now that the hunting crop will feature heavily in your punishment. Ordinarily I wold permit a slave no warmup first, but I think you'll be in a better position to appreciate it bite if you're already sore and tender. I'm going to start by spanking you. It will be long, it will be severe, and you will almost likely be in tears before I even think of using the crop.
He beckoned Jenn to him with one pale hand. "Stand up, slave, and come here. Turn around. Show me that deliciously bare bottom of yours. I'd like to see how pale and soft it is before I turn it scarlet."