A Shameful Training
When Constance arrives at Dunwich Manor she knows nothing about the place or the two handsome men who
preside over the establishment.
She soon learns the purpose of her visit: to be trained into a proper woman for a future husband.
Petulant at first, she is quickly taken over a knee and thoroughly spanked for her fiery temper. But that
is just the beginning.
She is soon subjected to painful corrections and humiliating examinations that leave her trembling,
blushing and, to her astonishment, desperate for more.
Dr. Byron Dunwich and his colleague Julius Cauldwell have made a career of training young women to be
submissive brides. Both experts in the art of dominance, they make quick work of subduing their new
ward's fiery streak. But watching her submission leaves them both aroused and wondering if this is the
woman they've been waiting for all these years.
When their long-kept secret, to marry the same woman, is revealed to Constance she is shocked. But she
can not bring herself to ignore her feelings for the two men.
Will the trio overcome what haunts them and find love?
Constance Clark stood staring up at the massive
wrought iron gate that led to the courtyard.
Father Edmunds stood beside her, nervously
shifting his weight from one foot to the other,
peering into the darkness beyond.
She sighed and rolled her eyes. “Perhaps they’re
taking their supper,” she offered.
“Perhaps,” Father Edmunds muttered. “I would so
hate to interrupt them but it’s getting dark and…”
He stopped mid-sentence and leaned forward,
wrapping fingers around the iron bars, eyes
“Who’s that?” a voice asked from the courtyard.
“Who’s there?” The noise was followed by the
appearance of a dim orange glow of a lantern. A
portly man stepped into view, holding the light
above his head. “May I help you?” he asked.
“Oh thank goodness,” Father Edmunds said at the
sight of the man. “Kind sir I am here to ask for
the help of Dr. Byron Dunwich. I sent a letter by
post and received a reply assuring me that I could
come at any time. Would it be possible to get an
audience with the doctor despite the late hour?”
The portly man’s eyes narrowed. He regarded first
Father Edmunds, then Constance with suspicion.
“What’s the name then?” he asked, his voice nearly
“I am Father Edmunds of the Holy Rosary Church and
Orphanage in Twinnester. This is, or rather was,
our ward, Constance Clark.” He pointed at
Constance, who gave the lantern man behind the
gate a faint smirk.
“Father Edmunds,” the man said, nodding. “Of
course. Of course. I was told of your arrival but
we always close the gate at dusk. There’ve been
unsavoury characters on these roads of late.”
Hanging the lantern on a hook by the gate, the man
took out a ring of keys and pressed one of them
into the keyhole. It clicked, then groaned as he
swung it open into the courtyard. “Please,” he
said, waving his hand and bowing slightly to the
Father Edmunds pressed a hand to Constance’s back
to urge her into the courtyard.
Constance watched the portly man glowering at her
as she walked past him, her imagination springing
to life and wondering what mischief would make him
The man swung the gate shut behind them, locked it
and took the lantern from where he’d hung it to
lead them through the darkness toward the house.
Something unsettling fluttered in Constance’s
stomach as the house, or rather mansion, loomed
out of the darkness. Shuttered windows on either
side of a massive oak door looked like eyes whose
lids were closed for a night of sleep. The place
was imposing. Father Edmunds hadn’t mentioned that
Dr. Byron Dunwich was a man of means.
The portly servant mounted the stone steps ahead
of them. He opened the front door to the house and
waved them past the same way he had through the
They stepped out of the chill air outside and into
a large foyer with a hearth the size of a small
bedroom with a fire roaring in it. Despite the
cavernous size of the front hall, there was a
decidedly cheerful feel to the place.
Constance thought to herself that as upsetting
leaving everyone at the orphanage had been, she
could easily get used to a life in a place like
this. Motion up the large winding stairs caught
her eye. She glanced up just in time to see a man
dressed in a black evening coat, a white starched
shirt and black slacks with immaculately polished
black shoes descend the stairs.
Something stirred inside her at the sight of him.
Not only was he at least a head taller than she,
he had a shock of coal-black hair combed neatly to
one side of his face and an impossibly strong jaw.
The way he looked at her with his shinning dark
eyes did funny things to her belly. Things she’d
never experienced before.
“Father Edmunds!” the man called out, raising a
hand in greeting.
“Dr. Dunwich,” Father Edmunds said, bowing his
head in greeting.
The two men exchanged a warm handshake, as if they
were old friends. Then Dr. Dunwich turned his
attention to Constance. “And this must be
Constance, of whom you wrote.”
“It is, doctor,” Father Edmunds replied.
Constance stiffened under the doctor’s probing
stare. The intensity of his look caused a faint
blush to rise to her cheeks. She held his gaze for
as long as she could but finally found it
impossible not to look away. His stern expression
was as imposing as his stature. She felt herself
shrink a bit under the weight of it.
“A pleasure to meet you, I’m sure,” the doctor
Constance, having limited experience with anyone
outside the orphanage, offered a small curtsy.
The doctor held out his hand. “You are how old
now?” he asked.
Constance furrowed her brow at the impertinent
Father Edmunds nudged her elbow with his and
implored her with his eyes to answer.
“I’m nineteen years, as if it’s any of your
business,” Constance snapped.
Father Edmunds closed his eyes and sighed. He kept
them closed, as if saying a silent prayer.
“I see,” Dr. Dunwich said after a few moments.
“And what, pray tell, brings you and Constance to
us, father?” Dr. Dunwich asked after stretching
out an awkward silence.
“As you know, doctor,” Father Edmunds began, “we
do our best to find a place for all of our former
wards from Holy Rosary.”
Constance huffed and shot Father Edmunds a
“When Constance turned eighteen we had a number of
gentlemen express an interest,” Father Edmunds
explained. “Good, charitable men who were looking
to help a young woman in need as much as they were
looking for a wife.”
“And what of them?” Dr. Dunwich asked, one eye
Father Edmunds’ lips formed a tight line. He
glanced at Constance, then quickly looked away but
did not meet Dr. Duniwch’s inquisitive stare. “It
pains me to say, sir, that she was…returned by
each of the three potential suitors.”
“Returned?” Dr. Dunwich inquired.
“Unfortunately,” Father Edmunds said.
Constance own mouth went tight. Her back stiffened
at the memory of not just being sent away to the
lecherous old louts who’d expressed an interest in
her, but also at the humiliation of being brought
back to the orphanage each time.
“She is now nineteen years, sir, and has no
prospects in this life. It was sister Helen who
reminded me that we have remanded other young
women to your…your care in the past.” His speech
was halting, as if he were unsure of the right way
to put what he wanted to say.
“You have indeed,” the doctor replied. “And if I
remember correctly we’ve been successful in
training all of them to be upstanding young women
worthy of any man who might show an interest in
“We had thought of taking her into the convent
“Yes?” the doctor asked. “What is it?”
Constance glared at Father Edmunds. How dare he
share these intimate details of her life with this
“She is a child of God as we all are,” Father
Edmunds said. “But I’m afraid a life in service to
him is not…what was intended for her.”
Dr. Dunwich turned his attention back to
Constance, who now met that same probing stare
with defiance, jutting her chin out to show she
would be cowed by no one. “I see,” he said,
nodding. “And what do you believe was intended for
you, young lady?” he asked.
Constance, whose temper had already started
bubbling at being talked to as if she weren’t
there, found the condescending question enraging.
“Why should I tell you anything?” she snapped,
shooting the doctor a furious scowl.
“Hm,” the doctor mused, rubbing his chin with a
finger and thumb. “I see,” he said, his eyes
roaming down Constance’s body.
His stern glare once again forced her to look
away. The way his eyes seemed to bore straight
through her made her want to crawl into a hole in
the ground. She briefly entertained the notion of
slapping him across the cheek. Only Father
Edmunds’ pleading expression kept her from
stepping forward and doing so.
“I’m sure we will be able to do fine work with Ms
Clark,” the doctor finally said after another
painfully long silence.
“The Holy Rosary would be forever in your debt,”
Father Edmunds said, offering another slight bow
of his head.
The doctor turned to look at the portly man who
had let them in. “Graves, go and show Father
Edmunds his quarters. When he’s ready bring him to
the dining room. You’ll take supper with us, won’t
you Father?” he asked.
“You’re far too kind, doctor,” Father Edmunds
replied, shaking his head. “I’ve already made
arrangements at the monastery down the hill. An
old friend I know from seminary lives there.”
The doctor nodded. “Of course. As you wish. But
before you leave I will require Ms Clark to agree
to our terms.”
Constance furrowed her brow as she stared at the
doctor. Her irritation with him had ebbed
somewhat, replaced by a funny warm feeling in her
stomach. She wasn’t sure what it was or whether
she liked it or not.
“Of course. Of course,” Father Edmunds said.
“Terms?” Constance asked. “What terms?”
Father Edmunds pressed his hands together and
looked at her. “Constance, dear. Please. This is
our last hope. We can’t take you back at the
orphanage. You’re too old and there’s no more
room. I would never sleep peacefully again if I
didn’t leave you in good hands. Do as the doctor
Constance softened at Father Edmunds pleading. He
had been so kind to her for as long as she could
remember. Far kinder than sister Helen and the
other nuns who were constantly chasing her with a
switch in their hands. Father Edmunds had always
guided her with love instead of punishment and for
that she would be eternally grateful. And yet, the
thought of leaving for good and stepping into this
new life filled her with a certain dread. She
turned to look at Dr. Dunwich again. “What terms?”
she asked again.
“If we are to accept you here at Dunwich manor, we
require you to have complete faith in our methods.
They are sometimes unorthodox as some situations
demand but they have never failed to yield
results. You will emerge after a month at Dunwich
a better, stronger woman ready to accept any
challenge the world might send your way.”