Chapter 10
The consequences of my agreement with Mr. Bowler-My own harem and the pleasures offered me-An account of the present state of affairs at Coombe-Mr. Bowler and his new girls-The fate of Maggie, his young blonde of twenty-Maggie stripped and strapped-The diligent care of Master Miles for his reformatory nymphs and tomboys-The training of Michele-Mr. Snook and his bizarre lusts-Wintering in tropic climes-Stories of his extreme demands on female slaves-A young wife displayed-The uses and pleasures of her private parts demonstrated to his guests-The author of these memoirs retires to bed with two of his favorite girls-A promise to the reader that the tale shall be resumed in another volume-A timely farewell!
My agreement with Mr. Bowler was all the better to him for the ease with which he might re-stock his own collection. As for myself, I now saw what advantages there were in being a man of justice and morality, the stern judge or the powerful magistrate. The truth is that so many things which the world will condemn as libertinage may be done in the serve of judicial discipline without a murmur of protest. Indeed, the rewards of a grateful administration tumbled upon Master Miles and his kind.
Did the master whip the bare buttocks of Sally and Jane? What then? He was a hero for doing so.
Why should he not enjoy his public duty? Did Mr. Bowler touch-up a young felon like Noreen? The law-abiding citizens applauded him. What a scandal it would be for Mr. Snook to be knocked down by her and the young bitch unpunished! The fact that these gentlemen had such young tarts under their own roofs and supervised every function of their bodies strictly was pure philanthropy. So long as Mr. Bowler gave such young sluts food and shelter in his own house, the nation was saved the expense and .its taxes might be lower than would otherwise be possible.
You will not, surely, complain because idle gossip talks of the masters stiff penis entering the thighs or butt of such girls? In the first place, the girls are criminals and ought not to be easily believed. Would you readily take the word of pretty Jane against the Lord Mayor? Could Noreen's complaint against Mr. Bowler be more than spite against the man who brought her to justice?
Suppose you did believe them. What then? Would you bring down the fabric of law and government in ruins because a gentleman has yielded to the seduction of some young slut-she having long ago surrendered decency in the arms of a young back-street ruffian? Would you not pity, rather than blame, the worthy gentleman who yields to her a moment under such extreme provocation?
You may easily see, then, that no revelation of mine would do the least damage to the characters of my worthy neighbours. Yet, I confess, since my arrival at Coombe I was like that personage of Monsieur Moliere who discovered that he had been speaking prose all his life without knowing it. I had been a worthy and moral gentleman without realising it. All my life, when I enjoyed the pleasures of such girls as came my way, I suspected that my fault was one of libertinage. It was not. My fault was in not being a pillar of law or government. What might be pure libertinage in others takes on quite another complexion as one ascends to that rank in society.
Let me then tell you something of the way in which I and my neighbours live as I draw this first volume of my memoirs towards its close. What would you find, were you to visit each of us this winter evening?
Master Miles, I may tell you, has a visiting judge as his guest, from the assize-court, not five miles distant. On these occasions, the discipline which is due will be carried out in the long whitewashed room with its flagstones and gas-lamps flaring on the walls. While the honourable judge looks on from his comfortable chair, the shirt-sleeved master takes his whip and confronts another pair of slovenly bare buttocks over the block. Half-an-hour of whip-strokes and wild shrillness leaves the cheeks of Pauline Cox's bottom in a state to stiffen the hangman himself.
There are others to deal with before the master and his guest devote themselves to the prize of the evening. Married randiness at twenty-five is presented in the petite figure of Jacqueline Grant with her pert features, narrow blue eyes, and the short crop of lightly-waved auburn hair. Strapped over the block on all fours, her buttocks are tightly rounded and clearly separated. Fifty strokes with a slim leather switch and the bare cheeks of Jacqueline Grant's bottom are a mass of thin weals and ruby trickles. Even then the young bitch is not unfastened until whipcord has smartened her backside and thighs a little.
Yet it is a lithe fifteen-year-old who claims the attention of master and judge alike. Michele now has a sturdy look to her, though she is neither very tall nor large built. She has a cheaply provoking look of the kind one might expect in a street girl. Her brown hair is worn in a slant across her forehead, combed back and trimmed short at her collar, causing her to flick it clear of her face in a sluttish manner. Her brown eyes appear narrow and shifting with thin brows. She has a mouth rather large and a chin almost childishly soft. With a flick of her hair, back from the long slope of her cheekbones she shows a nose that is tilted provokingly.
Clad in short bodice and tight cotton pants, one sees her arms lightly sunburnt and contrasting with the pallor of her face, which retains an almost childish softness. One observes her budding breasts are nicely peaked. Michele's pale bottom-cheeks are trim and resilient when she stands but they fill to deliciously taut globes when she bends. Her favorite stance is slack-hipped and sluttish.
You may be sure that the judge, diligent in administering the penalties of law on such a young scrubber, as Master Miles would term her, must acquaint himself with the adolescent delinquent. Taking her behind the screen he requires her to bend while his hand draws down Michele's panties. There is much mumbled conversation. Harsh reprimands. Sharp smacks on bare thighs and the taut adolescent smoothness of fifteen-year-old bottom-cheeks. A genial chuckle from the old fellow and a questioning sigh from the girl. Rhythmic creak of the stool over which she lies. Soft squirming of thighs at the comfort between them. Presently a pause and sounds of the youngster's alarm. A sudden withdrawal.
"I must spend on your young backside, Michele!"
A cry of desolation and a soft rhythmic spurting. At last the hardened little criminal comes out, followed by her admirer. Bare from waist to heels she presents a curious sight. She flicks back the slant of brown hair from her brazen young face. Yet the lithe bare cheeks of Michele's fifth-form behind appear red with smack-prints and splashed with her admirers passion.
No further delay is allowed. If ever a reformatory girl deserved punishment, it is she, for she did not even scruple to seduce an assize-court judge.
They oblige her to kneel on all fours over the block while she is strapped down at wrists, waist, and thighs. The hem of the singlet is drawn up at the back well clear of her hips, ensuring that the well-rounded cheeks of Michele's bottom are bare.
"Thirty-six strokes of the cane across your bare bottom, Michele Page! Call for the first one!"
"No!" Her wail is one of dismay, not defiance. "Oh, no!"
Smack! The bamboo cuts across her bare buttocks. There is a wild cry.
"One!. ... Two!. ... THREE!...."
The bamboo lands across and aslant her adolescent backside with wicked force.
"Four!. ... Please don't cane me low down!. ... No!. ... AHHHHHL ... FIVE!. ... SIX!. ... NO-O-O-O!...."
The familiar shrillness of the reformatory fills the room, its walls ringing with the measured whip! whip! whip! of supple bamboo on the girl's bare buttocks and her master's reprimands.
"Keep your bottom still, Michele! Must I begin the caning again?"
"The young minx!" chuckles the judge, "She needs to feel a proper lash across her backside. I shall recommend that the law be amended in that particular!"
The drama goes through all its stages. Michele shrieks at them, calling them bastards and dirty old men who are enjoying giving her the cane. At this the judge laughs again.
"You young slut, Michele! Of course we're enjoying this! That impudent young backside of yours makes a perfect target for the cane! I'm sure your boy-friends would enjoy seeing your butt thrashed!"
Extra strokes fall across the backs of her agile young thighs to smarten her up. The tautly rounded cheeks of her bottom display a tapestry of bamboo prints. When, under such discipline, Michele Page's bottom farted and squirmed, it served only to broaden the smile on the judge's face.
"If you please, Master Miles! Begin the caning from the start. The first stroke of the three dozen! Tan Michele for impudence!"
Small wonder if Michele flicks back the slanting sweep of her brown hair and cranes round at them with wild dismay in her hard and impudent young face.
If the upholders of law have any regret as they put the youngster through her paces a second time, it is only that they have not the leisure to deal with her more thoroughly. But the block will soon be needed for the other delinquent girls and young women who make up the night's list. Cheeky yoUng Sally with her high-boned impish prettiness must be taken behind the screen by the honourable judge. With her fair tresses trimmed in a gently curled cut at her nape, she was a charming prospect. Her trim and lightly muscled young figure was gently sun-browned, giving her an additional appeal when undressed. As she bent and he took down her briefs, the judge was intrigued by the early womanhood in the shape of Sally Fenton's smooth young bottom-cheeks. He then stroked and fondled her in this area and between the legs until she hardly knew if she was coming or going. To be sure, she had falsified her age to gain easier treatment. As his hands examined her and his resolve hardened, he decided that a proper lash was the only implement suited to Sallys young buttocks.
It was a moments work to amend her age in the reformatory list. At a bound she became sixteen. While the master did this his honor the judge occupied himself with the pretty female imp bending before him. A spy would soon have observed a certain moist excitement between her legs and a gleam of vaseline between Sally Fenton's bottom-cheeks.
When she was securely over the block the pony-switch was brought, slim and tapering. For the next half hour they would give young Sally a lesson in discipline.
Thus you will see that law and morality in our country stands in no danger so long as it has such servants as Master Miles and such arbiters as Judge Honour. With such a cheeky fourth-form imp, there could be no question of leniency. Now that these men of law had corrected the matter of her age, she could be dealt with more rigorously than an older girl like Michele. No limit was set to the number of strokes. The lithe and prettily rounded cheeks of Sally Fenton's bottom were whipped ... and whipped ... and whipped.
It was not only Master Miles and the judiciary who chose to devote the evening to the tasks of law and morality. What of Mr. Bower? How has he passed the few hours which have flown by as you read these pages?
Those strapping young wenches whom he once owned are now safely under my roof. Noreen, Pat, and Ange are well employed here. I have no doubt that he dreams still of the firm pale swell of Noreen's broad young buttocks as she bent to receive his displeasure. How often had his whip played havoc with her strapping young bottom until Noreen farted, and danced, and shrieked! Yet this evening you would have found Mr. Bowler busy in his counting-house, building the prosperity of the nation. He was returned to the House of Commons in the late election by a clear majority of the tradespeople and respectable rate-payers of the city.
Do not fear that he had relinquished the duties of magistrate and disciplinarian. Though Noreen and her kind have passed into my care, you may be sure that other young trollops are now the recipients of his charity.
Suppose you had chanced by his emporium this afternoon. There you would have observed Maggie at work-a delinquent back-street blonde, now twenty-three years old. The lank flaxen hair, combed loose to her shoulders and fringed, frames the pale oval of a face calculated to appeal to Mr. Bowler's philanthropic urges. Maggie has those hard and rather crude features which stimulate him so easily. There is a sluttish indifference in her blue eyes. Do you recall her from my preliminary observations to these memoirs? With the slight shortness of legs there is a certain stockiness to her thighs, though her hips and butt are tightly moulded as well as a little broadened.
Mr. Bowler studies well the view which Mag displays to the world in her tight riding-pants and singlet. With her lilting voice he dreams of Maggie as his Welsh pony, so put to useful toil. You may be sure that by this evening he has found time to attend to her. Other men long to return to hearth and family but Mr. Bowler, lord of industry that he is, thinks only of the duties which an employer must carry out. Maggie at sixteen, when she was first apprenticed as his shopgirl, still had a fair-skinned innocence in her face, the curtains of her blonde hair giving her an almost child-like appeal. Mag at twenty-three is a hardened slut.
Observe her well. See her slack-hipped posture and her insolent chewing of some sweetmeat displayed to the passers-by. As she arranges the leather goods for display, the young wanton strips herself quite outrageously to a sleeveless blouse of red silk and jeans-trousers of yachting white. Lewdly provocative, she bends with her rump to the public view, her bottom fuller-cheeked, the shape of her panties clearly outlined through the tight denim seat of her white working-trousers.
Have no fear. Mr. Bowler forgoes the pleasures of society in order to detain Maggie at his emporium once a week and teach her a lesson in manners, which lasts all evening. Beyond the counting-house over which he presides there is a convenient stockroom of considerable size. Mr. Miles, as well as, I could swear that Mr. Bowler takes Maggie in there at seven of an evening and begrudges his time so little that it is often midnight before the door opens and he goes to his carriage.
A carriage of another sort is the means of Maggie's training. It is just the model between whose shafts Noreen labored on Horsewhip Hill. Here it is used, on metal rails which run round the stockroom, for transporting goods. The slatternly young blonde is made to bend over the cross-bars joining its shafts. Maggie's wrists and collar are attached to the front bar, her waist strapped to the rear. Her master allows her to wear her hair pinned back in a flat tail by a tortoiseshell comb so that it will not fall about her face. He himself undoes her at the waist, taking down the working-trousers and panties of the girl who bends so provokingly in harness between the shafts. Maggie's panties, the stretched briefs of cotton web, are to be added to Mr. Snook's collection.
You might suppose that in her discipline-harness, Maggie would at last mend her ways. Yet the young slut is too hardened for that. As Mr. Bowler stood before her, she gave him such a bold-faced look that she enticed his stiffness out of his trousers and into her mouth. It is pure witchcraft that puts him in this plight and as such it deserves vengeance. By the time that he broke the spell the young bitch had put upon him, his erection was of such size that he could not get it back into his breeches. Walking round the bending girl, standing behind her, he seemed to find his prick drawn between the bare pallor of her coltish thighs. Late, as if mesmerised, he looked down to see that the young whore was vaselined between her buttocks and that Maggie's ass-hole was stretched tight round the rim of his phallus as he sodomised her.
So you need have no reservations over the discipline which he inflicted on this hard-faced young blonde for, to be sure, he deserved the chance to revenge himself upon Mag for her seduction of him. When she writhed in her straps and smoothed her buttocks against his loins, it was desire to feel his sperm in her butt which moved her. No man who has seen her bending to her work could doubt it. Holding her broadened hips by the flanks, Mr. Bowler pumped his all into Maggies backside.
At last he came to himself and was adamant in the discipline she must receive. He had a blonde tail to match her pony-tail of hair. Inserting this is Maggie's anus by its butt, drawing it up under the waist belt, he let it fall in a fine cascading plume which just brushed her backside. To prevent Maggie forcing the leather butt from her butt, it was held by a tight strap running down between her buttocks, under her legs, and joining her waist belt at the front. To make her feel her situation more acutely, he fastened the rubber bit in her mouth.
Alas for Maggie the slut! There was a vindictive stable-boy who had watched her amorously but had been spurned by her. Now he took a loving vengeance. There is a plant known as pica-pica or cow-itch. Its tiny hair-like points enter the skin easily and set up a virulent itching which drives the victim quite frantic for several hours. This sportive boy had spread these wicked itch-needles on the strap where it ran under the girl's legs and between her buttocks. Worse still, he had put them on the butt of the pony-tail which was now inserted in Maggies arsehole.
Within a minute or two, this warm-blooded young blonde felt a maddening itch begin to crawl and prickle between her legs and in the crack between her buttocks. Even her anus was tormented by it. Mr. Bowler saw her thighs squirm and rub desperately together. It was in vain for she could not dislodge the strap. Her hips began to twist and surge. The bare pale cheeks of Maggie's bottom contorted and writhed like a filly in heat.
Unable to drive her in this state, he demanded absolute stillness. The command was impossible for her to obey. Mr. Bowler chose the long slim pony-switch. He smiled as she turned her hard young face.
'I'll have obedience from you, Maggie! You randy young whore!"
With all his strength he brought the switch across the robust pale mounds of Maggie's bottom at she writhed. Maggie screamed through the rubber in her mouth, unable to articulate the words which might have excused her disobedience. Allowing no pause, Mr. Bowler thrashed her backside and her upper thighs, laying aside the artificial pony-tail in order that the broadly rounded cheeks of Maggie's bottom might be fully presented to him.
The vulgar young strumpet could not, of course, obey him. Indeed, the combined torment of the itch and the atrocious naked smart of leather on her bare bottom made it impossible for her to keep still. Maggie was torn between the twin torment of the itch and the whip. Would there come a moment when even the pica-pica would yield to the agony of the thrashing?
He thrashed the young window-dresser's bottom until a mass of raised stripes reddened her rear cheeks. He whipped Maggie until she shed red droplets from her buttocks. His manhood standing stiff from his trousers, he whipped her backside and her thighs until at length her head dropped and her knees bent.
"You may depend upon it, Maggie," he murmured as he applied the smelling bottle, "I will have obedience from you, you young tart. I shall go to fetch the special coach-whip. Even the most rebellious filly is reduced to obedience after a dozen cuts across her hind cheeks. You shall taste it on your butt, Maggie!"
It will not surprise you to learn that the amorous stable-boy and several other lads had been eavesdropping and keyhole-peeping at Maggie during her discipline. Now they darted into the room while Mr. Bowler was away. One, with gloved hands, undid the strap between her legs and buttocks. He gave her a good rub under the legs and in her butt-crack with fresh pica-pica leaves. Under the strap, before replacing it, he attached a persuader-strap with its needle-tips projecting to dent the inward slopes of her rear cheeks and her inner thighs. The lad whose amorous fondling she had rejected drew his gasper cherry-red and touched the glowing tip to the bare cheek of Maggies bottom. Indeed, for several minutes he touched up her backside before Mr. Bowlers footsteps were heard. He brushed away the gray ash and smacked her bottom hard.
"You'll get a real thrill from the pony-whip with your bottom smartened already, Maggie! You'll be worth watching now!"
Tender from these attentions and martyred on the needle-tips, Maggie endured an obedience lesson from the lash which she would never forget. I am told that the wicked lad confessed to Mr. Bowler his desire for Maggie. The master allowed him a night with her in a bridal boudoir. So extreme were the demands for love made on her, that Maggie was not seen again for more than a week! Even then the tightness of riding-jeans for stable-work caused her some discomfort, and when she sat down she did so uneasily.
And what of Mr. Bowlers associate, Joshua Snook, Esquire of Snooks Hall? He is now promoted to be chairman of quarter sessions but is obliged to winter abroad on an island which his family has owned since the days of sugar plantations. His im-puissance finds relief among his secret harem by making white slave-women perform extreme acts to amuse his guests. I assure you they are absolutely his slaves on that island and no tales will be told. My story comes in confidence from Mr. Bowler.
Nothing would do last month but a young woman must lie on the courtyard table while the pleasures and functions of her body were displayed after dinner. Her tits occupied the first hour, kissing and sucking prick the next. By midnight the functions of her cunt and belly were amply shown. Then, at dead of night, the lewder uses and functions of her backside must be fully displayed.
He chose a matured Venus in her late twenties, well exercised in marriage bed and childbirth. She was a most unwilling slave, a cool contempt for her masters shown in her blue eyes and the firm fair-skinned features of her resentful young face. Her body was at that delightful stage where firm erotic maturity has not slackened into plumpness. Some of those who admired her trim legs and the firm pale moons of her backside found it a piquant contrast that this cold feminine creature should have her fair hair fringed and cut short almost like a boys.
On the morning of her ordeal, they informed Lesley that all requests to visit the tiled room and respond to the demands of nature would be refused. That night, whether she lay spread-legged or bottomupwards over the demonstration-table, she must be in a condition to perform any act demanded of her.
It was already dark, in the hour after dinner, when they led the proud young woman to the demonstration-table in the courtyard where the rows of seats overlooked it. A white singlet shaped her tautly-moulded breasts and straight young back. A pair of translucent honey-toned tights was all that covered her below the waist. Her wrists were strapped together before her and, in readiness for further restraint, she wore leather anklets, waistbelt and collar.
The blue eyes which surveyed the onlookers from under the parted fringe of her short-cut hair showed only disdain. Yet soon her self-assurance faltered as the lecturer embraced her from behind pulling up her singlet and manualising Lesleys tits till the nipples were hard and erect. It did not seem possible that such a haughty young woman would kneel and suck a native boys penis in front of this audience. Yet the demonstrator murmured in her ear. At the same time he drew the leather collar a little tighter, showing her how easily it might become Venus's coup de grace! She was also held while he tickled her belly button lightly with the steel tip of a skewer. To their delight, they saw Lesley kneel, her hands strapped behind her now, and suck the rampant piddler of the first native boy. She did it with a few retching sounds and a faint revulsion as the lad obliged her to swallow down his spending. Despite her submission, she tried to struggle, briefly and in panic, when she saw that he was only the first of six lads for whom she must perform this service.
With knees hugged to her breasts and her "underside" displayed to the audience, the young woman served as model for a discourse on vaginal anatomy.
Then she was detained in this alluring posture while two native girls masturbated her slowly, ignoring Lesley's cries of protest until they became sighs of longing. They made her come three times before leaving her. As their agile fingers procured one spasm after another, the instructor chided his subject in a quiet voice.
"Don't try to turn your face away, Lesley. Must I warn you again of what will happen if you resist? The guests will want to watch your face as you climax...."
When the women had finished, it was the turn of two of the native soldiers to exercise her cunt on their erections. They took turns with her, each driving into her belly with such skill and energy that Lesley squirmed, groaned, and cried out in the delight of this impalement. When the climax came, Lesley now shuddered and ground her teeth as if in a manic fit.
They allowed her five minutes or so to calm down after this, dressed again in her tights and singlet. Old Mr. Snook came forward and, at his request, the attendants made the young woman bend forward over the table. The firm moon-like pallor of Lesley's bottom-cheeks appeared through the veil of the translucent tights. Mr. Snook ran his hand over these rear curves and asked for reassurance that his young hen had not been permitted to lay that morning. They assured him that all was in order and that Lesley was in the condition he wished. Happy as a schoolboy, he went back to his place.
Yet it was the vigorous use of her cunt which had made Lesley more sensitive to the growing pressure between her legs. She murmured a forlorn request. Her guardians smiled and led her to one end of the marble table where they made her sit in a convenient hollow. Mr. Snook swore it was the most piquant sight, this arrogant and emancipated young woman with her urchin crop bowed, forlorn as a little girl before a reprimand. The sulky mouth and chin were so self-pitying! Those blue eyes under her parted fringe lost all their aloofness in her desperate appeal.
She sat in the hollow, clad only in singlet and the translucent tights, while two of the attendants held her firmly by her arms. Two others held her knees open so that the demonstrator could tickle the young wife's little fountain-hole mercilessly through the sleek transparent film of her tights. He teased the vaginal flesh, so roused and sensitive from its recent use. Tickled and squirming, Lesley fought a losing battle to retain her golden flood.
For ten minutes there was an intent silence as the tantalising finger mocked her with its insinuating caress. From time to time a gasp of pent up breath broke from her and there was a soft movement as the firm spread of Lesley's seat writhed on the marble of the hollow in which she sat. Then, with her high-crowned crop still bowed, she gave a quiet half-muffled cry. The guests smiled as they heard an unmistakable feminine hiss of the warm torrent escaping from between her legs. The mature urchin-cropped Venus sat in a pool of her own making.
Her captors held her in this predicament until the seat and flanks of her tights were thoroughly soaked, in accordance with old Mr. Snook's desire. Then they turned her over, so that she lay on her side with her back to the spectators, held in this position by strapping her waist to a steel ring set in the centre of the marble. So her arrogance and disdain were curbed, this sexually matured young woman presenting her wet seat and thighs like a chastened schoolgirl of ten or twelve.
There was a pause while the guests admired the rear view of her perversely severe crop of short fair hair. Their eyes followed the curve of her back in the short singlet. Between the singlet hem and the waistband of her tights there was a gap where a band of sleek white flesh showed bare and pale. The seat of the translucent tights shone wet and glossy, clinging flawlessly to the firm erotic contours of her proud young backside. Fitting so wet and close, they gave a fuller and fatter look to the smooth pale swell of Lesleys bottom-cheeks.
A servant entered with a sponge and a bowl containing an inch of perfume whose sweetness rose in the air. He mopped up the pool from the hollow, squeezing it into the bowl. By the time he finished, its contents were of questionable decency, however heavily perfumed. The young woman caught her breath and shook her little-boy fringe clear as she twisted her head round, hearing Mr. Snooks command. The servant grinned. Despite her squirmings, he sponged the bowls lewd contents over the seat-cheeks of Lesleys tights, then over her hip-flanks, thighs, and legs. Mr. Snook chuckled.
"Little girls who misbehave have to learn a lesson, Lesley!"
She hid her face, but her admirers gazed at the wet and fatter seat of Lesley's tights which she was obliged to present to them.
Presently, as if it were the stage of a theatre, a curtain was drawn across to conceal her from them for a moment. Even this was a subterfuge. A lad came forward, finger to his lips to warn the onlookers. Gently he lifted the curtain a little, so that the young woman lying with her back to it was unaware. They saw her buttocks tensing and slackening rhythmically in the wet tights. Her thighs squeezed and squirmed. The tips of her busy fingers appeared fleetingly in the rear opening of her legs. Believing they could not see her, Lesley was making love to herself.
Was she still so roused from earlier fingering that she needed to finish off what they had begun? Had she found some secret excitement at what they were doing to her? For several minutes, her admirers enjoyed the alluring spectacle. Then an older woman, the duenna of Mr. Snooks harem, came forward. With one hand she drew away the busy fingers. With the other she made the air ring at the heavy resonance of several hard smacks on the wet seat of Lesley's tights, forcing a gasp at the sting of it and a forlorn cry.
The attendants positioned Lesley bottom-upwards over the rubber cushions. They attached each wrist to a ring at the table-corners at one end, her ankles pinioned together at the other. Midnight struck. They peeled off her wet tights and pulled the hem of the singlet well up above her hips, laying bare the firm and full-mooned cheeks of Lesley's bottom. In the long hours which lay ahead, the mysteries and pleasures of her backside would be the subject of the demonstration.
Mr. Snook chose a squirt whose glass barrel was six inches long and as far round as his thumb. He filled it with green soap liquid from the hand-basin, then he eased the nozzle into the young woman's rear. Though Lesley twisted her boy-cropped head round frantically, the old man slid the full length of the glass squirt up her behind until only the black rubber bulb was visible as it nestled snug between her buttocks. She gasped at the cold depth of the intrusion, her rear cheeks tightening, her belly tense, and her knees wedged hard together. She turned her sulky fair-skinned face to the onlookers, her aloof blue eyes and little-boy fringe imploring them. But each of the men showed her a fine stiff tool, in his excitement at what was going to be done to her.
"Lesley has been refused permission to take down her panties for the usual reason today," said Mr. Snook with a smile, "Her bottom is a little uncomfortable now and therefore very responsive."
The young woman gasped as he pressed the rubber bulb, squirting a first jet of perfumed soap liquid into her bowels. Then he made Lesley cry out in panic as he pumped the rest of the liquid into her behind with a firm and vigorous rhythm. To the delight of the onlookers the young wife's hips and seat squirmed, she gritted her teeth, and her legs pulled vainly against their straps. Then she lay limp and unresisting as the empty squirt was withdrawn. To Mr. Snook's glee, the tip of the squirt bore certain blemishes with which Lesley had involuntarily adorned it. To her dismay, her master displayed these to his guests.
"I'm sure Lesley must be desperate now," he said smiling, "She will have ample excuse for misbehaving under the whip!"
Before they thrashed her, however, the young woman's behind had to receive a man's tribute. A powerfully-built soldier entered, his muzzle rising stiff against his belly. He was greatly excited by the erotic maturity of Lesleys pale bottom-cheeks, firmly filled out by sex and childbearing. Two women parted these rear cheeks firmly, showing the soldier how the smooth pale skin was tinted yellow-ivory where the two halves of her backside curved in to meet at the dark bud of Lesleys anus. One woman took a large blob of vaseline and smeared it thickly between the young wife's buttocks.
The soldier knelt astride her hips, his swollen knob knocking for admission at Lesley's anus. She gasped, squirmed and then gave a cry of submission. The soldier groaned in ecstasy at the tightness of the young woman's arsehole on his erection. Shaking back the parted fringe of her fair hair, Lesley turned her face, imploring him.
"Before we let our young hen lay, she must have the cock, Lesley!" said Mr. Snook smiling, "Ah, I think his erection is a little large! He stretches your bottom rather hard, does he? But you like the feel of a penis inside you, Lesley. ... Even in your bottom, I think!"
They made the young wife stick her butt out further, so that the soldier could ride her more vigorously. His driving loins slapped rhythmically against her bare buttocks, causing her entire body to jerk at each inward thrust. To Mr. Snook's delight it was evident that the alternate pumping and suction of the pistoning tool in her backside gave an added arousal to the unease of Lesley's behind. At last the soldier held her firmly with a hand on each of her hip-flanks. In a final buggering he released the thick and abundant jets of warm sperm into her bottom.
Lesley tightened herself quickly as he withdrew. But the first soldier's place was taken by another, eager to sodomise her, while four others waited to use the same route. She gave a cry of alarm but Mr. Snooks unwholesome passions were to be well satisfied. The second man's knob began to stretch the young woman's anus implacably, seeking admission.
Unable to check herself, Lesley retorted loudly as the man enlarged her arsehole's opening on the smooth rounded knob of his hardened penis. Mr. Snook cackled with delight. The young wretch who did this to her was powerfully excited by Lesleys feminine rudeness which he had just caused.
He came twice in her bottom before withdrawing and making way for the next admirer. Mr. Snook-the old reprobate!-chided Lesley all this time as she writhed butt-upwards over the rubber cushions.
"You complain that we deny your right to choose the man who mounts you, Lesley? Of course we do! Close you eyes, and the penis in your backside might belong just as well to your lover or a man you detest! Remember you are my slave now and I make the choice for you. Men with big balls to pump a thick and ample pressing of sperm into your backside. You pretend that revolts you? Absurd! When the men finish with you, when you timidly eject the sperm from your behind, do you discard the paper if you loathe the man but treasure it if he was your boyfriend?"
By such perverse philosophy, the old debauchee dismissed the protests and revulsion of this willful young woman.
Presently the table became an arena of punishment. Mr. Snook chose a long and flexible leather riding-switch, no thicker than his little finger and with a short cord lash at its end.
Before thrashing her, they added a strap to pinion Lesleys bare thighs and another to hold her waist. An extra rubber cushion, wedged under her loins, raised and broadened the swell of her pale buttocks, making them part slightly and seductively. Now the pale blobs and smears of vaseline, with which she had been lubricated could be seen by the onlookers between Lesleys bottom-cheeks. Tracks of sperm on those bare rear cheeks showed where a withdrawn penis had shed its last pearly drops of desire.
Mr. Snook, expert in such discipline, commanded an inch-thickness of india-rubber to be wedged and secured between Lesley's teeth, protecting them when she clenched hard in the frenzy of the thrashing. He fondled her bare bottom, whose cheeks had now been made to swell out proudly, like the rear of a Spartan soldier-girl. He touched the switch lightly across her bare seat and watched her backside squirm and her legs writhe in their straps at the menace of cold leather. He made her wait, the switch taking aim, spurring Lesley to panic by the teasing promise of retribution.
With his lips severely tight and eyes gleaming, Mr. Snook whipped Lesley's bottom hard and with cruel accuracy. He raised twenty or thirty thin plum-colored weals which rose as if embossed on the pale cheeks of her seat. To the men's delight, Lesley screamed at the atrocious smart of the first stroke, which was given with the calm yet pitiless force of a prison whipping. The rubber gag reduced her shrillness as the firm rounds of the young wife's backside writhed and surged under a the thrashing. But Mr. Snook proposed to take this mature urchin-cropped Venus far beyond the limits of punishment, into the sinister realm which lay beyond. Unlike a judicial whipping, this one would not end merely because the young woman's butt had had fifty strokes or even twice that number.
Between the lashes, Lesley writhed over the cushions, squirming in her straps. There was a dry rasp of restraining leather being pulled against. The firm pale cheeks of Lesleys bottom met and parted in their writhing with a slippery kissing sound caused by the thickly smeared vaseline between them.
He marked the young woman's bottom-cheeks with long thin weals, some of which fell aslant the backs of her trim thighs. Then he aimed the rippling-leather wand-so lithe and springy-aslant the bottom-marks themselves. The doubled torment drove Lesley into frantic twisting and surging. The dark wine-red droplets rose at every lashing and trickled down the crimson whipped cheeks of her behind.
A girl of fourteen like Jane Mitchener or Sally Fenton might not be subject to such severity. But a young woman who was twice their age was judged well able to endure it. As she twisted the high-crowned shape of her cropped hair, the desperation showed in Lesleys brimming blue eyes and her frantic state was reflected in that fair-skinned young face which had once been so moody and resentful.
She was whipped as young women are behind harem walls when no tales will be told of what is done there. From time to time a young native boy, clad only in tight loin-cloth was beckoned forward. He held smelling salts to the young woman's nostrils, reviving her drooping spirits. As he did so, he pushed his bulging loin-cloth against her lips or face, making her feel the stiffness of it, obliging her to inhale the sperm-odors and feel the dampness of his partial emission, provoked by having her in this bare-bottomed state. like the other lads watching he was greatly excited by the thrashing, Lesley's backside now a mass of ribbed weals from the riding-switch. He murmured randily into the young wife's ear, as if to assure her of his enjoyment of what was being done to her.
After each revival, the whipping continued. A dozen times the tail of the switch caught her exquisitely between the buttocks, skinning Lesleys crack. She was frantic by now, shrill and urgent, writhing and contorting her firm whipped buttocks. Even Mr. Snooks gray-haired appendage began to stand out stiff through his unbuttoned trousers. To see this cool disdainful young woman now writhing with bottom-cheeks whipped scarlet stirred him. He decreed a pause. Yet it was only to have Lesleys buttocks massaged with well-salted fat in the usual way. This made her thin raised weals smart like fire. Those firmly rounded cheeks of Lesleys bottom shone bright red and sleek with grease. With her butt-crack compressed to a thin tight line she struggled to contain herself.
"Now the whip again, Lesley!" smiled Mr. Snook, "Getting so desperate already? You should have had a tanning like this long ago!"
A savage whip-stroke drew a line of ruby dots aslant her butt. Lesleys buttocks surged in anguish. The tip of a little-girl rudeness peeped out from her behind before the young wife could draw it back again. Mr. Snook grinned. He whipped hard across her rear cheeks and thighs with the skill of the wickedest hangman. Lesley shrieked and twisted. like an emerging cheroot the rudeness reappeared. Smack! went the whip. As she writhed, the shape like a ripe banana slid and lay in a lewd curve down .one crimson whipped cheek of Lesley Hollingsworth's bottom. It bore the ample tribute with which the six soldiers had adorned it. Mr. Snook clutched himself desperately and added his own spending on that unlady-like symbol of her submission which she had presented to him!
The incident did not, of course, end the young woman's lesson in discipline. My informants tell me that Mr. Snook was firm on that point. If he allowed Lesley to end her well-deserved correction by such misconduct, she could mock at all law, morality, and justice. She therefore received a second helping of the switch and then a whipping with the snakeskin pony-lash across her bottom-cheeks and the backs of her thighs. I hear that during the rest of the discipline, the whip made Lesley misbehave twice more, stiffening the onlookers by the excitement of the long drama.
Believe me, I do not envy Mr. Snook and still regard him privately as a crapulous old loon. Yet we shall ignore him at our peril, for he stands high in moral reputation as one who upholds the established order. I have no doubt that, were she at liberty to do so, the young woman on whom he performed would mend her ways as the price of escaping his clutches. Is not that true moral reformation-and have we not Mr. Snook to thank for it? I see by the entry that he has sentenced her, in his capacity as chief magistrate and owner of the island, to five years detention under his supervision. The sentence also requires that she be whipped once a month on her bare buttocks. Any complaints she may prefer are to be heard, of course, by the chief magistrate himself, Joshua Snook, Esquire.
I have much still to tell you of my experiences and my own discoveries of the sexual delight awaiting those who become men of power in the realm. The story of Master Miles and his "House of Correction" prompts me to reach for my pen, revealing as it does the strange conduct of some of the highest in the land.
For the moment, however, I trust that you will excuse me and that we may part as friends. The counterpane is turned back and the bed is ready. Susan and Kim wait patiently enough to hear what my pleasure will be. Tomorrow night it will be Tracey and Jacquie, or Ruth and Laura. I may have a little encounter with randy Pat or plump Ange. Perhaps I shall fall asleep with Tracey's silken veil of golden hair across my thighs and my penis comfortably exhausted and reposing in her mouth. My pillow may prove to be the smooth pale cheeks of Noreen's bottom as she lies on her belly over the bed to provide such support. On one side, as I turn, Lauras flat young belly and charming fleece are presented to my kisses. On the other, I find the firm impudent cheeks of Pat's bottom thrust into my face, demanding attention. You will excuse me, then, if I retire now and attend to all such pleasures. You may be sure that their secrets will all be revealed to you before long. Until which time, the day of our next amicable meeting, the author of these memoirs bids you farewell.