The Duchess's Punishment

After Mathias departed, an eerie stillness returned to the castle. The duchess, Olivia, and the marquise's wife, Isabella, assumed the task of managing the estate, their relationship with the servants unchanged and indifferent. Improving those ties was never a thought in Olivia's mind; obedience to her orders was all that mattered. The whispers of the staff branding her as a monster or hurling insults in secret didn't faze her in the slightest. For her, control was the ultimate response.

But this time, something broke through the oppressive silence. As Olivia walked with Isabella, inspecting the estate, the muted sound of stifled laughter and bold words reached her ears from behind a half-open door. She stopped abruptly, raising a brow, motioning for Isabella to remain silent.

Inside the room, Nina, one of the maids, spoke with brazen arrogance:

"Tell me, don't you think I'd make a better lady of the house than that duchess?"

The statement was met with rippling laughter from the other maids, but Nina, as if emboldened by the moment, continued:

"Do you know how long it's been since her husband visited her private chambers? Three months! Can you imagine? I bet he's repulsed by her. He's slept with her only three times since their marriage. I've been managing the duke's chambers all this time, and he's only left his room for her those three nights. How awful must she be for her own husband to avoid her so much? I'd wager I could get him to sleep with me with just one move."

One of the maids tried to warn her, whispering, "Nina, stop! Someone might hear us!"

But Nina waved her off dismissively, her tone dripping with smugness. She leaned closer to the group and lowered her voice conspiratorially:

"These days, I've been hiking my skirt up just above my knees and undoing a few buttons on my apron whenever I clean his room. Do you know what happened? He didn't object. Not once. It's clear he's captivated by the sight, or he'd have told me to fix my attire…"

Before she could finish, she felt a sharp tug on her hair from behind. A strangled cry escaped her lips as she turned to find Olivia standing over her, her cold, piercing gaze cutting through her like a blade.

"You have impressive audacity, my dear," Olivia said with a voice as icy as it was venomous, "but you've chosen the wrong person to test it on."

She yanked Nina's hair harder, forcing her to her knees, then gripped her chin with an iron-clad hand. Isabella stood nearby, her face pale, observing without intervention, while the other maids froze, unable to breathe.

"So," Olivia continued, her tone dripping with mockery, "you thought a pathetic scheme like this would succeed?" She pressed the heel of her shoe onto Nina's hand, pinning it to the ground. Nina let out a wail of pain. "Allow me to enlighten you, darling: my husband, despite whatever flaws you think he has, is mine. And anyone who dares approach what belongs to me will suffer in ways they can't imagine."

"Please, my lady," Nina whimpered, her voice breaking. "I didn't mean anything by it… I was only joking!"

But Olivia wasn't moved. She turned to one of the maids and snapped, "Bring me the whip."

The maid hesitated for a moment, trembling as she handed over the whip as if it were a coiled viper. Olivia took it with a cold smile, testing its weight in her hands before locking her gaze on Nina, whose face had gone ghostly white.

"Lift your skirt, Nina," Olivia commanded, her voice firm and unrelenting. "Show me how high you thought it necessary to raise it for my husband."

Nina gasped, breaking into sobs as she pleaded, "Please, my lady, don't make me do this!"

"Lift it!" Olivia's sharp voice thundered through the room.

With trembling hands, Nina raised her skirt slightly above her knees, but that wasn't enough for Olivia. She brought the whip down with a fierce crack against Nina's legs, over and over, until Nina's screams filled the room.

"Why are you screaming?" Olivia asked with mock sweetness. "I'm only reminding you of your place, you filthy wretch."

After what felt like an eternity of blows, Nina collapsed to the floor, unable to stand. Angry red welts crisscrossed her legs, blood seeping from the deeper cuts. Olivia tossed the whip aside, then crouched beside her, her voice now a venomous whisper.

"You said you unbuttoned the top of your apron for him, didn't you? Show me that as well."

"No, please!" Nina sobbed uncontrollably. "I didn't! I swear I didn't! Please, don't hurt me anymore!"

But Olivia didn't wait. With deliberate slowness, she reached for Nina's apron and began unbuttoning it herself. The room was deathly silent save for Nina's broken cries. When Olivia had undone all the buttons, she pulled the apron off with a violent jerk, leaving Nina exposed and humiliated.

"Do you know," Olivia murmured, "what frightens a woman more than death?"

Nina, trembling uncontrollably, barely managed to croak out, "W-what, my lady?"

"To be stripped of her dignity before the eyes of others," Olivia said coldly.

She flung the apron aside, leaving Nina scrambling to cover herself with her hands. The other maids and servants stared, some with pity, others too terrified to react. At that moment, Isabella finally intervened, stepping forward with a disapproving scowl.

"My lady, I believe this has gone far enough. She has learned her lesson."

Olivia turned to her, her expression unreadable, then said, "And her attempt to seduce my husband wasn't excessive in your eyes?"

"I understand she deserves punishment, but this is... cruel."

A frigid silence hung in the air before Olivia finally responded, her tone laced with chilling detachment:

"Very well. Since you asked, I'll stop—this time. But let me offer you some advice, sister-in-law: don't interfere again. I don't spare anyone who touches what's mine."

She brushed past Isabella, leaving Nina huddled on the floor, shaking and sobbing. Isabella sighed deeply, her face contorted with disgust, then motioned to the remaining servants.

"Cover her up. Her sight is revolting enough."

The servants rushed to wrap Nina in a spare cloth, then hauled her to the dungeon, as she could no longer walk. For Nina, the dungeon's cold embrace was far kinder than Olivia's wrath.

In the days that followed, the atmosphere in the castle became stifling with fear. The servants, already wary of Olivia, now trembled at the mere thought of committing even the slightest mistake. They longed for the duke's return to restore some semblance of balance, but their hopes were dashed when a letter arrived, informing them that the duke would extend his stay by another fifteen days.

As the days dragged on, the castle seemed to sink deeper into darkness, the shadows growing longer and more oppressive with every passing moment.