Chapter 9
A curious date in the racing calendar-Mr. Bowler's pony-girl sports!-Pat and Ange, a pair of sturdy mounts-Linda and Valerie, their lewd little jockeys-The severity of the fair sex at fourteen-Pat and Ange whipped hard round the course-A second contest-Whips and bobtails-Fourth-form bottoms and pony-lashes-A pause for refreshment and amorous exercise-Noreen at my own disposal for the first time-Breasts and belly-Noreen bottom-upwards-My passionate hour with her-Raoul's race up Horsewhip Hill-Noreen bare-bottomed between the shafts-Straining thighs and writhing hips-A new girl in harness-Preffy Jane the youngest and most appealing-My wager with Mr. Bowler-I become master of his harem!
Spring in that delightful valley could not but turn a man's thoughts to the excitement of sport and the pleasures to be had in wood and field. Yet I assure you I had no idea of the extravagant spectacle my neighbours were preparing as the blossom gathered on the apple trees and the white hawthorn bushes rose ghostly among the hedgerows in the warmer dusk.
"My lord," said Mr. Bowler, after the first meeting of the justices in May, "It will soon be time for the spring races. Master Miles and I would be mighty obliged if you would honor us with your presence.
I shall provide the fillies and young mares this year. Master Miles will bring one or two jockey-girls and a mount or two in her first season."
I could only guess at the meaning of this-but guess I did. Not for the world would I have missed such a mighty diverting sport. Believe me, I had not until then thought of the amusement of harnessing such girls for riding or driving in the well-guarded privacy of our estates. Yet the idea is old as Themistocles whose carriage was pulled by a pair of naked ladies and, indeed, Marco Polo reports the practice in China long ago.
As was customary, my two neighbours treated me with great deference. Not only was I to be judge in all disputed results at this ingenious race meeting, I was also to have a choice of mounts or of "ponies" to be harnessed bending naked between the shafts of my little carriage. I understood that such strapping young wenches as Noreen, Pat, and Ange were to be the mounts while the youngest girls of the reformatory, Linda, Valerie, or Jane, were to act as jockeys.
The sports took place on a fine warm afternoon towards the end of May. We adjourned to Mr. Bowler's estate where he was host to Master Miles and I ate an excellent lunch. Game from his own woods was served in sauces of exquisite succulence, and followed by delicate water-ices and champagne. After coffee, brandy, and cigars, we walked out on to the terrace overlooking his park.
I was quite astonished at the elaborate preparations he had made. There on the secluded grassland a white-railed circuit had been laid out in miniature, about two hundred yards round. There were hurdles and obstacles ready. It was for all the world like a regimental gymkhana-or even Ascot or Epsom.
"Come, my lord," he said, smiling softly, "I promise you we shall have rare sport this afternoon!"
We walked down through the gardens and out into the home field where the course had been arranged. There were half a dozen of his most trusted grooms in attendance, fellows who were no less eager than ourselves to have bare-bottomed girls in harness.
I saw that two of the sturdy young mounts-Pat and Ange-were already there in the careful grip of the attendants. They were naked but for broad leather waist-belts and wrist cuffs. Each girl had her wrist-cuffs joined together in front of her by a light but strong steel chain some two feet in length.
"We must see our two sturdy fillies brought to the starting line and made ready," said Mr. Bowler smiling, "Are those fat bottom-cheeks beginning to itch a little with apprehension, Angela? And what about Patricia? Is your belly on edge at the thought of your butt being smartened up, Pat?"
They looked far too nervous to reply to these pleasantries. However, the grooms brought them to the start of the circuit and made them kneel on all fours side by side. A long metal rail lay on the ground where each girl knelt. A chain from this was clipped to the front of each waist-belt, stretched firm so that neither young woman could get up from her knees. The lower end of the chain slotted into a groove in the rail, enabling the girls to be driven round and round the circuit without respite.
It was understandable that the grooms were excited as they looked at the two naked and kneeling girls. Mr. Bowlers own shop-girl, Ange was the plumper and the more nervous of the pair. With her straight nose, rounder face and blue eyes, she was a perfect study in apprehension. Ange had forsaken her coiffure of dark razor-trimmed boy-cut hair for a short crop of fairer curls which added to the softness of her look. Her pale body gleamed in the sunlight, breasts full and hanging a little, thighs soft and Ange's ass-cheeks plump and full.
They prepared her first. Despite the twisting of her head, a rubber bit was wedged between her teeth and laced into position. A short pony-tail to match her hair was produced. Ange tensed her buttocks protestingly but a vaselined finger intruded between those two plump cheeks, making ready. A moment more and Ange's loophole was stretched round the butt of the tail as they inserted it up her bottom. The smooth-haired tail was drawn up under the waist-strap and then allowed to arch in a delightful plume over Ange's backside.
They had yet to make Ange truly responsive to her jockey-girl. This was done first by a strap round each thigh, the inner surface lined with wicked little needle-tips. So long as Angela behaved herself, there would be little discomfort. Yet a sharp smack on the surface of the strap, a knowing pressure on her inner thighs, would be a piercing reminder. Another strap was run taut from the front of her waist-belt, under her legs, tightly up between Ange's buttocks and fastened to the waist-belt's rear. Where it ran deep between the cheeks of Ange's nineteen-year-old bottom, the straps edges had a dozen more wicked needle-tips projecting an inch. The soft inward curves of the girl's bottom-crack were dented by the metal points but the white skin was not pierced. The first sign of disobedience would merit a tug on the strap and anguish so intense that it would take away the breath Ange needed to yell.
They turned to twenty-year-old Pat with her firmer but robust figure. There is a certain air about Pat which must have drawn many an eye to Mr. Bowler's premises. Her hard young features have a sexual boldness to them. There is a knowing slant to her dark hazel eyes which suggests that Pat-likes to be a wicked girl. One senses a certain forwardness even in the way her blonde hair is shaped back from her face, worn close to the head, and trimmed above her collar as if to show a long and graceful neck.
There was no resistance. Pat playfully licked the fingers of the groom who wedged the rubber bit between her teeth. When they had to vaseline Pat's anus for the butt of the pony-tail, she arched her hips back a little, parting her firm sturdy buttocks to make their task easier. All the same, she had to have the wicked straps with their needle-tips round each thigh. And, last of all, they made Pat wear the persuader-strap between the cheeks of her behind.
Ange and Pat were ready for their two jockeys. I had as yet no idea of the identity of these riders. Just then, Mr. Bowler opened the door of a summer-house nearby and the mystery was revealed. Two of Master Miles' younger pupils stood there-or rather posed there-in a state of amusing undress. I had seen them often before. Linda was the slyly sensuous little blonde with the mane of fair hair worn forward on her lapel, her soft pale thighs bared by the removal of her uniform skirt and by the briefness of the hugging schoolgirl panties which she wore. In the same state of undress was the slim gamine Valerie with her auburn crop, blue eyes, and light freckles. Her manner was nervous and giggling, as Linda's was sly and sniggering.
The two class-mates had been told to bend forward over a table side by side, which they did, supporting themselves on their elbows. Behind each stood a groom, his fingers between the bare thighs, manualising the fourth-form girls through the white elasticated cotton of their panties. Already the dampness was evident on Linda Jennings's pants.
In blouse, striped tie, and briefs, each jockey-girl was now led to her mount. Roused and eager, each longed to frig herself on the back of the older girl. In this state, both Linda and Valerie had that cruel lust which is the last taint of inexperience before the age of discretion. Linda sat astride Ange's bare back and Valerie astride Patricia's. It will not surprise you to learn that a little knob was set into the rear of each filly's waist-belt, on which the two schoolgirl jockeys could frig as they rode.
To ensure a keen race, Master Miles warned his two fourth-formers that she who lost would be whipped bare-bottomed as a reprisal. At this, a look of alarm clouded Valerie's face and even the sly gleam in Linda's blue eyes faltered.
What a charming sight they made as they waited for the command! The soft figure of Ange with her cropped curls and Linda the sensuous little blonde astride her back as the older girl waited on all fours. And there was Pat, the lewd young slut with the firm figure of a working-girl and hard features, Valerie already frigging herself a little on the bare back.
Mr. Bowler stood behind them. He stooped and had a close look at the plump cheeks of Ange's bottom and then at Pat's firmer buttocks. He raised his whip and cracked it for the start of a race which was to cover four circuits of the grass course-half a mile all told!
There was great jocularity among Mr. Bowler and his guests, for the sight of the girls was both very randy and yet comical. Since the two fillies moved on hands and knees over the grass, the pace was not rapid. We followed close, seeing nothing of Pat and Ange but two pairs of lumbering and contorting butt-cheeks and their rapid legs. Linda and Valerie leant forward, loving the leather between their legs, wetting their briefs with love's excitement and dewing the bare backs of the older girls with its slipperiness.
It was Linda who proved the more wicked rider. To gain an advantage, she gave a sharp smack on the needled strap round Angela's thigh. Ange gave an involuntary shudder and shrieked through the rubber bit in her mouth. Lust at fourteen knows no pity. Linda smacked again, on the same side, and then in great excitement on the other. The wicked little madam even gave a smart spank or two to prick the inner softness of Ange's thighs. We came up for a fuller view and saw the young pony-girl twisting her crop of curls frantically, mad with the spurring. Indeed, like any well-spurred filly, her thigh-flanks trickled a little red.
In later volumes you will read of Linda Jennings's bottom under the lash, her tears and pleading. Have no compunction at her ordeal. She proved now to be cruel and randy. Reaching under Ange's belly, she found the persuader-strap and began to give it hard tugs. This tension made Ange martyr her bottom-crack on the sharp needle-points already denting its soft smooth pallor. Again and again Linda tugged at the strap, all the time riding her cunt hard and excitedly on the girl's back. To see the state of Ange's crack after a few minutes was proof enough of young Miss Jennings's depravity!
Ange was maddened beyond endurance by the piercing reprimand in her sensitive rear valley. Desperately she tried to throw her sniggering jockey-girl by straightening her legs upward and thrusting her hips high. The chain prevented this but Ange managed to lift her hips until the pony-tail fell clear of her seat. Now it was Linda who called for assistance to the groom attending her. This fellow flexed a long slim switch of woven leather. He took aim wickedly and thrashed hard across the plump whiteness of Ange's bottom-cheeks. Ange shrieked and tried to push herself up from the rear, vainly tugging at the chain which held her to the circuit rail. Randy young Linda kept her seat on the older girl's back, sniggering at the fun they were having with her. She jerked the persuader-strap again and then again, putting Ange to a piercing ordeal between her fat butt-cheeks.
At last the helpless young filly went down properly on all fours again and scrambled forward, showing plenty of thigh-shimmer and bottom-wobble as she tried desperately to avoid further correction. But even though she was no great beauty, it was understandable that the groom wanted a little more enjoyment with the leather switch. His whip smacked, clean and crisp, on Ange's plump buttocks with every yard she moved. Something of the whip's impact was conveyed to jockey-girl Linda through the jumping and quivering of her mount. The sly little blonde was leaning forward, spread-thighed, squeezing her young cunt on Ange's bare back and enjoying every thrill of the anguished squirming in the body of her "pony." Though we watched at a distance as the race went on over sunlit grass, Ange's backside was already distinguished by twenty or thirty crimson welts.
What of Pat with Valerie on her, back? By whipping Ange without respite, they had driven her into the lead. The lash had increased her speed greatly, as well as quelling her rebellion. Ange could never have performed so well without this severity. Now it was Pat who lagged a little.
Yet what a difference there was between Mr. Bowlers two young working-wenches. Ange with her soft young face and crop of curls was all trembling and apprehension from the start. There was a randiness in the slant of Pat's hazel eyes and hard young features which was quite the reverse of this. Pat is one of nature's whores, ready for anything, and showed tell-tale signs of enjoying such a race with a younger girl on her back.
As for the jockey-girl herself, slim and nervous Valerie masturbated as eagerly as Linda but with a greater show of affection. Straddling and squeezing her tightly-clad cunt on the back of Pat's waist, Valerie lay forward, kissing the long elegant neck exposed by the short cut of blonde hair. She loved Pat with an ardour which was gentle and yet merciless. Her fingers wormed under the persuader-strap where it went between Pat's legs stroking the young woman's clitoris and nether lips as she labored forward. Twenty-year-old Pat began to dew the strap in her excitement, as Valerie had already done to her own panties in which she rode. The result was that Pat now moved more slowly than Ange, her firm thighs squirming luxuriously together and the taut working-girl cheeks of her behind writhing seductively. The groom who supervised her, smiled.
"You need a taste of the whip across your backside, Pat. Don't you?"
Unlike Ange, randy Pat looked up with an enigmatic glance, as if daring him to do his worst to her.
Though a vulgar young slut, her body was trimmer and harder than that of the curly headed Ange. Pat seemed to hollow her waist a little and thrust out her firm bare buttocks, as if challenging him to whip her. Though scarcely more than a bumpkin or trollop in her manners, Pat has a natural lewdness and the disposition of a masturbatrix. She began to squirm her thighs on the rubbing strap between them even as the groom thrashed Pat's bottom-cheeks mercilessly with his leather switch. Several times she stopped, knees together and shoulders lowered a little, offering her ass so that the man could thoroughly enjoy himself with the whip.
Long before the race was over, Pat's buttocks were a mass of bruises, raised weals, and red trickles from her cuts. The race was won by Linda, riding Ange. When the two jockey-girls dismounted, Ange and Pat were left on all fours. How could the grooms resist giving the two shopgirls a final thrashing? Ange screamed and struggled vainly, sprawling on her belly on the grass, drooping at last. Pat lowered her head and raised her rump, offering herself lewdly for chastisement, still masturbating on the strap between her legs. They thrashed her to bruising, then they thrashed the bruises themselves. When they finished, she was unfastened. Pat sat back on her heels before the man who had beaten her. Coaxing him to allow her a favor, she undid the front of his trousers, drew out the erection, and closed her mouth over it lovingly. She sucked him expertly and swallowed a copious spending.
Pat's lewdness was such that few of those who had admired her at work in white singlet, and riding-jeans with white canvas belt could ever have guessed it. I was later to see her lying naked on a table where the youngest of the stable-boys could see her through a grilled opening above. She seduced them by words and postures, writhing and gaspings, until each young lad took his flute in his hand and played energetically upon it. Unable to touch her, a score or two of them pumped their passions down upon her thighs and hips, butt and breasts. Pat lay there with quiet satisfaction, smiling and spreading the precious balm over herself with her hands, her thighs squeezing rhythmically together.
All moralists would agree that Pat was not fit to be allowed free in society. The only place for her was a situation of slavery, where she could give full vent to her longings without endangering the decencies of social order. Mr. Bowler was commended for having enforced this upon her.
The next event was a "bobtail" race. Linda and Valerie, who had had such fun in the first contest, were not to be put to the test. Their wrists were strapped together in front of them and the cuffs were anchored to the metal rails running round the grass circuit. The length of chain was light and long enough for the girls to race standing up. It was in that sense a simple running race with the girls obliged to follow the track of the rails, and being unable to use their hands for protection or resistance. The two fourth-form vamps waited in short blouses, striped ties, white knee-socks, and briefs of stretched white cotton.
"Take you panties down, Linda Jennings, you little minx!" laughed Mr. Bowler.
The young blonde cast an uncertain look at him. But she took the waistband and pulled her panties down, stepping out of them a little awkwardly. The pearly plump cheeks of Lindas young bottom, as well her pale bare thighs, now offered themselves, though she folded her hands instinctively over the slight covering of blonde fleece at the base of her marble smooth belly.
"And you, Valerie Bishop!" laughed Master Miles, "Get your panties off too!"
Valerie obeyed, though with much hesitation and a little blushing. Her bare legs were still very slim, her belly flat, and even her buttocks seemed slender by contrast with Linda's plump little moons.
Round each girl's waist they tightened a belt. From the rear of the belt hung a string, eight or ten inches long. On the string were threaded four little globes of red wax. They were the size of small apples, pierced at the centre for the string to run through. By knotting the string, the wax globes had been spaced out a little. When all was in place, Linda and Valerie stood with the globes on the string hanging down the line of their bottom-cracks from the rear of their waists. The competition was for the two girls to run a measured mile, which they would not do very quickly with their wrists strapped. Behind each girl would run her backer, a long-tailed lash in his hand. The object was to see which man could cut the greater number of wax "apples" from the string of his girl, using the whip, before the mile was completed. Each cut of the lash, whether successful or not, would be a painful reminder of their situation for Linda and Valerie.
Before the amusement began, one of the grooms came up to Mr. Bowler with a request. To my great astonishment, Pat had asked that she too might run in competition with the two younger girls. She was, it seemed, one of those rare girls who like attention and cannot have too much of it.
Not only was her request granted but Mr. Bowler asked me if I would care to follow Pat, as he would follow Linda and Master Miles would chase Valerie. You may be sure that I needed only one glance at twenty-year-old Pat in her singlet and white canvas belt-she was naked below the waist-before I agreed. Indeed it was Pat who raised the most charming objection when I took her behind the convenient canvas screen to inspect her. I kissed the long slant of her cheek bones, her slim neck, and stroked the sleek but short coiffure of her blonde hair.
"I should like to be your slave," she said awkwardly.
"I should torment you often," I said in jest, "Your backside, your legs, what lies between them...."
"I know," she said, her trim thighs squirming and lechery in the slant of her dark hazel eyes. Then she made her objection. Being an older girl, she had a better chance in the race than our fourth-formers. There must be a handicap imposed on her. Indeed, it was Pat who suggested it.
Round the course were a dozen obstacles, metal hoops about three feet high which each girl must bend and go under. As she stooped and went forward, her butt and thighs were spread, making her more vulnerable to the pursuer with his lash. Pat suggested that she should be made to go under twice the number of these, and that she should be made to wear an extra wax "apple" threaded on the string which hung down her butt.
So the race began. I was so occupied with my own runner that I had little time to watch the antics of my rivals with Linda and Valerie. Pat in front of me, a little awkwardly as if she might be sore between the legs from her previous ordeal. Though the young working-woman's buttocks had a slightly heavy and sluttish look, she ran with a certain athletic grace and natural strength. The string of wax apples rolled to and fro across her backside with the sway of her trim hips and the movements of her legs.
I gave Pat a hard time-deliberately, so that she might feel what it was to be a slave. I cracked the whip across the bare flank of her hip, leaving a sinuous vivid weal and hearing her gasp at the burn. Deliberately, again, I gave her three cuts across the backs of her trim bare thighs, so that she nearly fell to her knees. Yet though she gasped and twisted her thighs as she ran, there was no mistaking the heightened excitement which the ordeal inspired her. When we came to the first of the hoops, Pat bent over to make her way through. I could not help noticing that she lingered in this posture, her buttocks thrust out, their cheeks parted, and even the soft pussy flesh between her legs revealed for the stimulus of the whip.
My thoughts returned to the conversation I had had with Mr. Bowler a few weeks earlier. We had then spoken not merely of exchanging girls for a day or a night but of the possibility that I might purchase his little collection from him when he went abroad to his private island retreat.
Because Pat bent so conveniently, I soon plucked the wax globes from the string that hung down her butt. Yet she did not win the race. Indeed, she was the last to cross the finishing line for she had lingered to taste the sharp sauce of the whiplash. What it would be to possess such a girl, I thought. Not to mention Noreen and Ange, Tracey and Michele...."
The race ended and I saw the other two girls who had run it. What tears there were! The plump and pearly little moons of Linda Jennings's bottom were well whip-striped. Of the two girls, it was the slimmer cheeks of Valerie Bishop'ss backside which had been soundly chastised by her admirer. His sinuous whiplash had great fun with Valerie so that she crossed the line in a burst of shrill hysterics.
There was an interval after this, for the next event was a demonstration of carriage-driving. Mr. Bowler had several garden carriages, hardly more than toys, which could be pulled by a healthy young wench bending between the shafts while the driver's perch was occupied by one man or woman alone. He invited us to meet a man who was, till then, a stranger to me and who had been watching our antics from a distance. His name was Raoul and his origins Latin-American. He was a crony of Mr. Bowler's southern winters and a supplier of white slave-girls to private harems. From the first I found him a sinister and sadique character, not to be trusted with those girls over whom I held sway.
I had yet to learn the dark truth of Raoul's character and must reserve the revelation for a future volume of these memoirs. Yet I sensed something of it already. He it was, a few months later, who acquired Elaine Cox from the reformatory master and took her to a remote house beyond the Danube where he was free to inflict the final severities upon her. Even now there was a wicked gleam in his eyes as he watched the youngster shouting and striding in her uniform of white blouse and striped tie, the pleated gray skirt worn brazenly high to reveal her robust adolescent thighs. He viewed the impudent toss of her lank fair hair, combed from its central parting to lie loose upon her shoulders. He seemed to covet the slum-child insolence in the broad oval of her face with its snub-nose, thin mouth and the narrowed eyes that were dark with a fleck of green.
When she was put to work in white singlet and the tight smoothness of blue-gray working-trousers, he studied the slight heaviness of her thighs and Elaine Cox's fifteen-year-old bottom-cheeks with wicked lechery. As she bent to her task, Raoul always moved so that he enjoyed a full rear view of her, the fattened swell of Elaine Cox's fifth-form buttocks in this pose.
There were, he insisted, men of rare tastes and great wealth who would pay highly for the privilege of taking such a vulgar young pupil into one of those secret rooms from which only the man returns. Raoul was severely logical. Elaine Cox at present had the appeal of a rude and impudent fifth-form tomboy. In a matter of months-a year or two at most-she would be a drab with a squalling brood, her appeal gone and an expense to the nation. To prevent this-as indeed he did-Raoul proposed to take her to that remote house where such ultimate pleasures might be tasted. There was no danger of a scandal, he insisted. Trusted attendants must secure her on all fours upon a trestle in that sinster room and would withdraw before the entry of the man. Her open legs and the bare cheeks of Elaine Cox's tomboy bottom would offer excitements of a kind impossible under other circumstances. No clue would be given Elaine beforehand as to the fate in store. After a night of riot with her loins and backside, a final moment would be necessary, Raoul murmured. Then the guilty evidence would be tumbled through a hatchway to the rocks below where predators roamed for food. The man would come out alone and Elaine would be spoken of after that only by a few men, always with knowing smiles.
I afterwards believed that they wished to discuss this matter before continuing the sports. Mr. Bowler informed me that Noreen lay on a divan in the summer-house, waiting for her outing in the shafts of the little carriage which Raoul would drive. It would be in an hour's time. Until then she must be kept occupied and prepared. He proposed to send a pair of his roughest grooms to keep Noreen busy-unless, perhaps, I would care to have a little game with her myself.
Was this done merely to have me out of the way while they talked of Raoul's plan for his adolescent prey? Perhaps it was. I later discovered that Mr. Bowler and Master Miles, though they would not accompany Raoul and the girl, were greatly excited by the thought of what would happen to Elaine Cox. Though the sinister plot did not unfold for a while, neither of them sought to prevent it. Elaine's demise was already agreed upon.
Unaware of all this, I made my way to the summer-house. I will not deceive you. I still thought Noreen an insolent young wench, resentful and violent. She deserved a good whipping for many of her actions. I would not have intervened to prevent it. I must also confess that I had enjoyed seeing Noreen's bottom lashed. However, I now sought to prevent what the grooms would do to her if they were allowed to spend the hour before the carriage-outing. Protest was useless. Mr. Bowler and Master Miles had all the law on their side. If the justice chose to apprentice Elaine Cox to Raoul, who would take her abroad, the law approved it. As for Noreen, the law was plain in writing. It was entirely at Mr. Bowler's discretion how she should be whipped-between the carriage-shafts, if he pleased. I crossed the lawn, thinking of Noreen's cunt and her firm-cheeked bottom.
I entered the summer-house and found, as I expected, Noreen lying on the divan in her stable-costume of white singlet and tight pale-blue riding-jeans. They had attached her wrists to the divan-frame at its far corner so that she lay with her back to the door. The law permits and sometimes requires such bondage, when a culprit is whipped, to prevent unseemly incidents. As she heard the door open, Noreen shook back the short length of her dark hair and looked over her shoulder. Her chin was resolute. The brown eyes under the level fringe stared at me in contempt.
She watched as I sat on the divan just behind her. That broad leather waist-belt pulled the smooth jeans taut over her sturdy young hips and backside, the denim strained smooth over the full and firm mounds of Noreen's buttocks. Though she set her teeth, gasping and squirming a little, I fondled those rear cheeks in their thin denim to reassure her.
"You'll be bending bare-bottomed in harness between the shafts, Noreen. An hour to wait for it. Do you truly want to be left alone here for that hour to feel the cold dread as the time approaches? Would you rather have the two roughest grooms with you to do the things which have to be done before the tanning? A long outing on Horsewhip Hill, Noreen, with Raoul in the driving seat! Does that give you butterflies in the tummy? Yes, indeed, I think it does! Raoul means to skin these young broad young ass-cheeks with his lash, Noreen. Ah, that makes you tighten your buttocks in panic! Would you rather I called for the two grooms now, Noreen? No? I should like to have a little fun with you, in that case. A little between your legs and some between your bottom-cheeks...."
I drew my finger down the stout central seam of her jeans-seat, where it ran deep and taut between her rear cheeks, their fatness almost closing over it before it parted her cunt lips. Though I was saving Noreen from a worse fate, I admit I was going to enjoy myself greatly. No wonder they had fastened her wrists for she squirmed and the anger glowed at the points of her cheekbones as I undid her waist-belt. I drew down the jeans with Noreen's panties inside them. Yet I pulled them only to mid-thigh. One does not romanticise with girls like Noreen. I undressed only that part of her which was necessary for what I needed to do. Afterwards it would be easy enough to pull her pants up again and leave her as I had found her. Though she tensed and squirmed I had now laid bare those parts which interested me most. Her pale and sturdy body was nude from the back of her waist to a few inches above her knees. I used the belt from her riding-jeans to pinion her thighs. One arm pinning her round the waist, I began my inspection of her upper legs at the rear, the soft cunt-nest between, and the broad pale cheeks of Noreen's bottom.
Raoul had left his snakeskin lash on the floor beside the divan. I trailed the cold leather on her bare seat and saw Noreen's buttocks flinch at the menace.
"Those bare cheeks of your strapping young butt, Noreen! I'm sure Raoul has some wicked cuts in store for them...."
This time, when she squirmed, it was in panic at what lay in wait for her. I put the whip down and saw, in the mirror which reflected her face, the first desperation in her lazy brown eyes and the quiver of her firm chin with alarm.
"Settle down, Noreen! I'm sure Raoul wants you milked between your legs. We must help you to get that out of your system. It would never do for you to be aroused, even by accident, during discipline. No distractions from the whip, Noreen."
There were urgent struggles-or were they writhings of desire?-as my fingers went between the back of her thighs. I took Noreen's warm cunt-flesh and began to tantalise it with light stroking and squeezings. Despite her indignation and her attempts to twist to and fro, I felt her dewing the inner surfaces of her thighs with slippery balm.
"Every girl in a Hungarian prison has this, Noreen, before they give her the whip. We must make you come first. Then there will be no danger of secret thigh-squeezings to help you endure the lash. I think you were ready to play with yourself Noreen...."
And so she was! Her hair had been tied back in a collar-length pony-tail so that I saw more easily how she set her teeth and tightened her jaw in refusal, how she flicked her dark level fringe and the points of her cheek-bones reddened with greater indignation. Yet nature had its way in the end. Noreen came with a shudder of pleasure-or revulsion-biting back her cries.
I began again at once, manualising her to climax a second time-and then a third. At last Noreen's sexual vitality was quite exhausted for the day. Now she lay in the cold reality of anticipation, the chill hour of waiting for what Raoul would do to her.
I resumed in earnest my contemplation of her behind, stroking the cool pale mounds of Noreen's bottom. I parted them and felt her try to press them together.
"You hate this, don't you, Noreen? We must overcome your distaste. Think of the men who enjoyed watching you at work, that strapping rear view of yours outlined in tight denim! Not one of them would spare you now. They dream of you as a slave whose master trains your backside with whips and squirts, birch-rods and branding-irons. And they hope with all their hearts that the dream will become reality!"
Having myself admired such a prospect, I did not now disdain to kiss each cheek of Noreen's bottom and the rear opening of her thighs. I reached for a small tablet of perfumed soap. By holding Noreen's buttocks apart and dropping a goodly gob of saliva on the tight bud of her anus, I had only to apply the soap to lubricate her rear entrance.
I showed her, in the mirror, the state of my penis as I unbuttoned it, for it was hard and straight as a bone. I lay behind her and was still able to enjoy the reflection of Noreen's face in the glass. There was fury in her eyes and the line of her chin.
"Now I must hold those strapping ass-cheeks of yours apart, Noreen. Good. Now arch your backside out a little. ... Don't try defiance, Noreen. It won't suit. You're going to get it anyway. Why not learn to enjoy it?"
I confess I had to use a certain strength and energy before I could hold her in the way necessary-Noreen lying on her side with her back to me, her hips made to jut to the rear a little. My penis lay stiff between her buttocks, the length of Noreen's crack.
I touched the knob to her soaped anus, adjusting my aim while she gasped and swore.
"Lie quite still, Noreen, you fat-bottomed young trollop! Don't try tightening your arsehole, you young bitch! I've never had a prick so hard for you as now! Those strapping young bottom-cheeks, Noreen, pressing bare against me. Ah! Now! Now you shall have it, Noreen!"
My knob had been pressing for admittance at Noreen's arsehole for several minutes. Now it had its way. With the feeling of being engulfed by a tight elastic band round the foreskin, my knob forced the narrow entrance. Noreen lay desperately tense and still, not daring to move in her present impalement. A well-made girl of her kind requires no leniency, so I pushed firmly and felt the full length of my stiffness sink into her butt. I am sure her friend Pat would have yielded her backside to me without half such a fuss!
I had mastered Noreen completely now. The duration of the pleasure was to be at my choice, so was the moment of spending and where I should make her receive my tribute. With over half an hour until they came for her, I was in no hurry to end such exquisite pleasure as this. For several minutes I was content to lie with my erection deeply sheathed in Noreen's backside, not yet pumping her.
"Feel the shape of the penis, Noreen? Ah, I think the knob is deep enough in to touch you where you're sensitive! Have no fear, Noreen, we shall have no need to treat you like a fragile or delicate maiden. Those sturdy young bottom-cheeks show that you're well-made to be used like this ... Ready for some exercise now, Noreen? You'll feel the effects of this for the rest of the day. ... You'll lie awake tonight and feel as if it's still being done to you...."
I pulled the hem of her white singlet well above her hips at the rear, so that I could look down and watch what I was doing to her. Between the broad pallor of her buttocks, Noreen's anus was now stretched wide round the base of my stiffened manhood. I stroked a hand down each bare flank of her robust young hips, then held her by her hip-flanks to steady her.
"Ready for it now, Noreen?"
The mirror showed me the resentment of humiliation in her firm mouth and chin, the slant of her brown eyes under her level fringe. To bugger Noreen was to teach her a lesson in discipline just as much as when she had been whipped. In her present situation, the hard muzzle of the penis impaling her backside, she was completely at the disposal of the man who sodomised her. It was he alone who would choose how long or short a time the fun lasted. Noreen's bottom must take as much sperm as he wished to pump into it. The mingled apprehension and anger in Noreen's face was the expression of a girl hating what she would soon receive but going to get it anyway.
In a slow and easy rhythm I worked my prick to and fro in Noreen's butt, drawing half its length out and then pushing in to the hilt. I was glad that I had "milked" Noreen to exhaustion between her legs so that she was compelled to concentrate upon what was now being done to her backside. If I acquired her from Mr. Bowler, which I hoped would be the case, I intended that Noreen should be made to come between her legs every morning before the events of the day began.
I began to sodomise her a little more vigorously, the easy in-and-out rhythm quickening to in-out, in-out, in-out between the strapping young cheeks of Noreen's bottom. As she twisted her head side to side, lower lip held between her teeth, the collar length pony-tail of dark hair fell aside and I was able to kiss her neck and ears. My lips touched her lobes as I murmured.
"Am I making your bottom a little uncomfortable, Noreen? Ah, I see that I am! It makes you tighten your anus on the shaft, doesn't it? Such delicious squeezing, Noreen, my love! Ah, Noreen, you young whore! Who could resist using you like this after enjoying such exquisite tightness? Do you not begin to feel a certain unhealthy excitement in your behind, Noreen? Admit it to yourself, you young tart! I shall make you tingle and tickle in your entrails before I finish! Noreen, darling! I must fondle those firm young bottom-moons at the same time!"
I paused after a while, for fear of spending too soon, and lay still with my penis sheathed deep in her rear. There was time to stroke Noreen's pale bottom-cheeks and flanks.
"I must make this last a long time, Noreen. I fear you may feel the effects a little but it's best for your own sake to know the experience of being properly and thoroughly sodomised. If not, you would always wonder what it might have been like. ... Now, some more butt-exercise, Noreen...."
I began again and paused ten minutes later. Noreen's eyes now had a look of timidity and apprehension which would have astonished and gratified the men whom she dismissed with such insolence as they admired her bending or kneeling at her labors.
Once or twice she even demanded between clenched teeth that I should finish quickly what I was going to do to her. The hour was ten minutes from its end when I responded to this.
"You shall have it now, Noreen. Arch your backside towards me and keep quite still. Quite still! I promise you, Noreen, you'll carry a fine spending of sperm in your behind while you bend between the shafts of Raoul's carriage!"
Noreen twisted her face to me and caught her breath in alarm, as if she suddenly recalled the ordeal waiting for her. Perhaps she thought that I would beg for her to be excused it. I smiled at this.
"I shall enjoy watching you bare-bottomed between the shafts, Noreen! Did you think this hour of intimacy would make me pity you? You have much to learn! Having had such pleasure in this way, I shall want Raoul to be more severe with you than ever. I shall ask that the carriage be weighted more heavily so that you pull more slowly and have to be whipped harder for that!"
I began to exercise Noreen's ass with a rapid and vigorous rhythm. A monstrous flood of sperm gathered in my balls, ready to boil over. I longed to make Noreen take its powerful pistoning in her rear. I gasped my passion, my loins pounding her pale buttocks.
"It's going to come in a minute, Noreen! Other men might spend just inside your ass-hole-but I mean to make you take it deep in your butt!. ... Your bottom, Noreen! Hold it quite still!. ... Noreen, darling! A squirt of gruel to tickle you!. ... Noreen, you young whore! Tighten your arsehole on the prick!. ... Exquisite! Ah, Noreen! Noreen! Noreen, you fat-arsed young slut!. ... The thick squirting makes you flinch, Noreen?. ... Much more to come, Noreen! Do a little squeezing of your butt on the prick!. ... Now I shall flood you! Squirts of hot slipperiness and thick sperm. ... You big-bottomed young whore, Noreen!. ... Such a grimace, Noreen! Does the fell of the slippery juice in your backside repel you, Noreen?. ... Some more to come yet, Noreen!. ... Noreen! Ah, Noreen! What whip-skinned bottom-cheeks you shall have for this. ... Seducing a peer of the realm!"
We lay still for a moment, my passion spent. Then Noreen began to squirm with alarm for she felt my softened penis, which was still in her bottom, begin to harden again. I fondled her rear cheeks lasciviously to assist my urge. Then, with a gasp of rage from Noreen, I began to ride her again.
"You young tart, Noreen! Your own bottom is to blame for this...."
After another spending, the serpent grew limp and Noreen squeezed it cautiously from her behind. It lolled across her firm pale bottom-cheeks, the last spendings leaving a lewd snail-trail upon those rear orbs. In this state they brought her out later, bowing and twisting in the grip of the grooms as she wrestled against them. She was naked now but for the short singlet which left her hips and legs quite bare. Had the grooms had fun with her or was it the girl's own fault that Noreen's bottom-cheeks glowed with smack-prints upon which shone the splashes of sperm?
The little carriage had two bars across its shafts. One was at the front and the other a couple of feet behind. The grooms held Noreen so that the girl bent tightly forward over the rear bar as her wrists were strapped to the front one. The rear bar was equipped with a broad and thick harness strap, used to fasten Noreen down firmly by the waist until her belly was pressed hard on the support. Though she was a strong girl, the straps were more than a match for her. A leather collar was fastened round her neck and this was also secured to the front bar by a short length of chain.
The view which Raoul had from the drivers seat was, to say the least, stimulating. He was confronted by the spread of the girl's hips a she bent and more than a hint of brown-haired cunt between the rear opening of her thighs, her legs themselves looking strong but trim. The firm pale cheeks of Noreen's bottom, fattened and broadened as she bent over tightly, were a constant temptation to any driver to reach for his whip. Above her bare hips, Raoul could see the straight young back and resilient breast-swell outlined by the clinging cotton of the singlet. The firm and defiant look of Noreen's face was more easily seen when her dark hair was worn in its short pony-tail. As usual, they wedged the rubber bit between her teeth and laced it in position.
There was great excitement to see whether Noreen would be easily brought to obedience. For all the training and discipline, her essential character could not be changed, remaining defiant and impudent. Indeed, it was this continuing disobedience which made the possession of her so exciting to me.
Raoul's hand went forward, feeling between her legs, though Noreen squirmed and tightened herself, as if to deny him entrance.
"You young bitch, Noreen!" he said with a laugh, "You've been masturbated, haven't you?"
Then he looked at her pale-cheeked bottom, seeing the suspicious snail-trail of sperm and the wet soap in her crack. There was great mirth among all the onlookers at this and the fury rekindled in Noreen's brown eyes. Raoul picked up his whip with its short lash of woven snakeskin.
"One mile along the woodland path, Noreen, and a long pull up Horsewhip Hill. You'll need plenty of this," I heard the crack of his whip in the air, "If you want an extra taste for disobedience, you shall have it."
He gave her the order to pull forward. We all watched with great excitement to see what she would do. Noreen crossed her legs tightly, one knee pressing into the back of the other, as if bracing herself for a great ordeal. She tensed her buttocks, perhaps trying to harden them. Her teeth were clenched on the rubber bit and her strapped hands clenched too, into fists so hard that her fingernails must have cut her palms. We were all delighted by such defiance and moved round for a good view of Noreen's butt and the rear of her thighs. Raoul smiled.
"Very well, Noreen, you young scrubber!" he said quietly.
Crack! The whiplash snaked across Noreen's broad pale buttocks, making her whole body jerk with the anguish. Crack! ... Smack! ... Crack! Her hips were writhing after four strokes. What was the secret of the riddle? Was Noreen's humiliation so great that her anger overcame the pain? Did she feel that her reputation required her to put up a show of disobedience before submitting to Raoul's commands? She certainly never appeared to enjoy the whip. I think it was the humiliation she had undergone which made a strong and contemptuous girl like Noreen incur such anguish. Pride, for the moment, overcame suffering.
After a dozen strokes the whip cut her, low down on the heavy pallor of Noreen's buttocks, drawing three red trickles. She writhed with wilder energy, Noreen butt-upwards over the bar on which she was strapped by the waist. Raoul inflicted the punishment with great skill, always choosing those areas where the young woman would feel it most keenly, whether low across Noreen's bottom-cheeks or across the backs of her thighs. Now as she squirmed more wildly over the bar, her buttocks parted and the crack between them was fully glimpsed. To quell her rebellion once for all, Raoul flicked the whip at this point so that the lash went flashing into Noreen's crack, before she could clench her ass-cheeks to conceal it. The twenty-one-year-old girl yelled with all the power of her lungs. The grooms now came forward and parted her rear cheeks with their hands, offering the same target to Raoul without any means by which Noreen could deny it to him. Raoul smiled at her.
"Well, Noreen, you young bitch! Which is it to be?"
Further resistance was beyond her power to endure. Lying forward in her straps, Noreen's strong young legs began to strain, her feet pressing hard to move the garden-carriage forward. Every muscle in her bare thighs was mapped by the effort. Raoul took a school spanking-strap and gave her a sharp smack across her rump with it. I heard a creak of the axle and the carriage moved at last. It was a fine spectacle to see Noreen's young legs laboring and straining at each step, her broadened ass-cheeks rounding and squirming. As she moved, one saw glimpses of her coral-pink cunt between her legs at the back, while
Noreen's bottom-cheeks moved in a touching-and-parting rhythm.
She was well within Raoul's reach. Leaning forward in his seat, he slid a hand between the back of her legs, fondling Noreen's cunt to see if she would yield another orgasm. It seemed beyond her power. His fingers slipped between Noreen's broad buttocks, searching for the thin raised weal which the lash had inflicted.
"I think I hurt you there, Noreen, did I not?" he said, his fingers almost stroking the weal as if to sooth her, "You must expect that. So far as your behind is concerned, Noreen, it is your crack with its tight little anus which attracts me most...."
A spasm seized the girl's hips, though she did not cease her labors. We guessed that Raoul's finger had entered Noreen's butt. His conduct was strange, inexplicable. He would take the young woman into a room, strap her bending naked over a stool and torture Noreen from the last glow of dusk until the first flush of dawn. Yet now, as she ran, he slid his hand between her legs again, squeezing and fondling, masturbating Noreen all over again!
As the woodland path gave way to the steep incline of Horsewhip Hill, all this changed. Without the stimulus of whipcuts, Noreen would never have hauled the carriage and its driver up the slope. Even under the lash, she strained and stumbled, laboring urgently to obey. Raoul trailed the lash through his fingers and then began to be far more severe with her.
This was necessary in order to drive Noreen onwards. Yet on the slope, she also presented a far more seductive prospect. Her hips and backside rounded and surged with the energy of her struggles. Moreover, the incline caused her to thrust herself out further at the rear. It seemed as if Noreen was deliberately trying to stick her strapping young butt right into her driver's face! Of course, Noreen's rear cheeks were pulled hard apart by bending so tightly and laboring so hard in this posture on the hill, so that her crack was revealed all the way between her buttocks. Contrary to the truth, it seemed as if Noreen was asking for the whip by her seductive squirmings-and even offering her behind in the lewdest and most vulnerable position for it.
You may be sure that Raoul obliged her. The inward buttock slopes of Noreen's crack received one searing kiss after another from the snakeskin lash. The cunning whip sought out Noreen's crack, the pale globes of her bottom-cheeks, the backs of her thighs, and then her crack again. By the time the outing was over, they unfastened her from the carriage and allowed her to sink to her knees. Smiling intently, they watched Noreen writhe butt-upwards on the lawn, unable to endure the thought of sitting or walking until almost an hour had passed.
By this time, you may be sure, I felt that sport had turned into villainy. Though I had enjoyed myself greatly with Noreen, I was concerned that Raoul and even Mr. Bowler ought not to be trusted with Noreen and the other girls. My instinct, which later proved sound, assured me that one day there would be such a session of whip and penis which would end with a leather collar being tightened inexorably round Noreen's throat-or the point of sharpened steel being pressed slowly but irresistibly into Noreen's belly-button. While I thought of that, Raoul and Mr. Bowler were preparing a new carriage-pony for her outing.
If I tell you that they summoned pretty Jane, the youngest of Master Miles's girls, you will understand the extent of my misgivings. Pretty Jane-for despite her lank dark hair and fringe there is such an open appeal in her firm fair-skinned face and brown eyes-is a charming creature. Yet now they proceeded to strip and harness her. Off came her skirt and, of course, Jane Mitchener's schoolgirl panties. The taut resilience of her pale buttocks inspired vindictiveness rather than desire in them. The young cunt between her taut young thighs was an object of mere curiosity. Though Jane had not yet reached the age of discretion in such matters, these men made the decision for her.
Unlike Noreen, Jane was obedient from the start. This did not, of course, save her. The snakeskin lash smacked cruelly across the taut bare pallor of Jane Mitchener's bottom-cheeks from the first. Raoul made his fourth-form pupil run the full course, including the dreaded slope of Horsewhip Hill. No wonder if Jane's eyes were brimming, her mouth turned down forlornly and such a woeful expression on her face. The thin plum-colored weals of the whip patterned the young cheeks of Jane Mitchener's backside.
I resolved to confront Mr. Bowler with an offer which I felt sure he would accept. My chance came that evening after dinner. He summoned me to the study where pretty young Jane was his companion, still without her panties on. He made her bend and asked my admiration-as he parted her smarting buttocks-for the fine way the lash had skinned Jane Mitchener's bottom-crack. I agreed to this and then put my proposition as calmly as I could.
Mr. Bowler would soon be leaving for a six-months furlough in a warm climate. Upon the sunlit island he possessed, there was a harem of a hundred young women, drawn from every nation and type of beauty. What could he want with Noreen and her kind? He could not take them with him. I offered to take care of them in his absence.
"Pooh!" says he, "You may have 'em for all I care. They weary me already. If there was a way to indict Noreen so that she might be hanged for her offence as a public entertainment, I should sign the paper tonight!"
"I would not," said I, "take your right from you without some recompense."
"Recompense?" said Mr. Bowler loudly, "The young whores cost me nothing. Not a penny piece have I paid for Noreen nor Tracey this season. Still, my lord, if your conscience should bother you in the matter, a hundred pounds will make it smooth. For that, you may have all legal rights in the young sluts. They are to be under absolute custody of a justice for five more years-ten if you care to reimpose the penalty. You are a justice, my lord, so am I. We may transfer them between us to Coombe. The money you pay shall be the expense."
I was utterly taken aback, not having allowed for the manner in which the old fellow might weary of the girls in his power. To be sure he had many more in the place to which he was going. It will take another volume to describe the pleasures and the punishments reserved for Jacqueline Grant and Shirley Ross, or Claire Wicks and Tania Nicoll, or even Kim Roberts and Jane Truman.*
* To be had of the Private Bibliophiles, chez 13 Rue du Faubourg de Montmartre, Paris 9e
Be that as it may. I, who had been prepared to argue and even to threaten Mr. Bowler, now found my wish granted without a pause. As for the payment-if such it was-my new wealth enabled me to afford it fifty times over!
So it was that I came to the end of this first stage in my adventure. It was beyond belief and yet my new status as the owner of a harem was vindicated by the very laws of England which have been the bane of so many libertines! I have much more to tell, of Master Miless reformatory and, indeed, of that certain island paradise to which I, my friends, and our girls were destined.
Yet I would not take leave of you so abruptly after our first meeting. Perhaps you would be patient enough to hear a little of what lay in store for me in the years to come.