Chapter 6
The universal problem of Lesbian passion where many girls are slaves of one man-My plan for Laura, Ruth, and Sian-I witness a Lesbian scandal at Mr. Bowler's-Pat and Ange caught in the washroom-Hands in each other's panties-Patricia and Angela brought before the dinner guests-The table cleared and the two amorous strumpets made to lie upon it-Naked passion for the diversion of the guests-Writhings and sighings-Fingers between each girl's legs and a tool for each backside-Smacked bottoms for Pat and Ange-A sequel to the breaking-in of Noreen-Obedience demanded of her as a dinner waitress-Dildo-rides and butt exercise-Noreen's discipline-training and obedience tests-Pat and Ange provided for my night's enjoyment!
It will always be the case that where several girls supply the pleasures of one man they will begin to sigh and "sock" with frustration. After a while they will turn to each other, finding in their Lesbian masturbation a comfort too rarely provided by their master. A man may deplore this or accept it. In the case of Laura and Ruth (soon joined by Jacquie), as well as Sian, I accepted it with delight. What better than to have girls who kept themselves roused and therefore ready to serve me? It is, I believe, a curiosity of human conduct that a man will rage at his wife's copulation with another man and yet be excited at the thought of seeing her make love with another woman.
I mention this as an illustration of my first doubts about Mr. Bowlers predilections. I did not for a moment suspect the severity of his moral resolve or the fine example he set to the neighborhood by assisting to flog or hang all who came before the judgment seat. I merely happened to be visiting him when a scandal was revealed between Pat and Ange-and I could not help reflecting on the difference in our two attitudes to such things.
It was the old story. Pat and Ange are a pair of buxom young wenches of a vulgar kind. Neither is a beauty and yet both have a suggestive randiness about them. A man would not keep them long but some lusty fun might be had with them for a while. As we were at dinner, Mr. Bowlers servant entered. Pat and Ange had been spied upon. They were locked into the washroom, standing in a close embrace, each with a hand thrust down under the others belt and into her panties. Mr. Bowler glowed with rage. For myself I would not have left a single spoonful of Windsor soup to interfere. Pat and Ange might work each other to delirium and, as their master, I would not prevent it. I might request that they share my embraces-but would not restrain them further.
Mr. Bowler saw matters differently. He got up from the table, begging pardon from myself, Master Miles, and Mr. Snook who were his guests. In company with the servant, he went to the spy-hole through which the horrid crime might be viewed. Leaning against the inner wall in their breathless embrace were Pat and Ange. Pat with the randy slant of her dark hazel eyes, her hard young face, and the short, moulded cut of blonde hair, was clearly the instigator. Yet it had taken little to overcome the resistance of Ange with her soft face, blue eyes and the boyish razor-cut of her dark hair.
By this time the two neglected girls had their pants round their knees, each embracing the other with one arm and worked her energetically with the other hand. Mr. Bowler entered through another door in the wall of the tiled space, catching them in their misdeed. The two startled girls of twenty and nineteen had hardly time to stop rubbing and squeezing each others vaginal flesh, let alone pull their pants up.
Mr. Bowler ordered the dining table to be cleared, dinner now being over, and the two girls to be brought before us as we took coffee and brandy there and puffed upon our cigars. So the court of moral justice was convened in order to consider the penalty the two young tarts had earned.
So the two delinquents-Pat twenty years old and Ange nineteen-were brought into the room where we sat round the large polished table. Both young trollops had an abashed or self-conscious air, having been caught in the middle of their mutual stimulation. Yet such modesty now seemed laughable in such a pair of sluts.
Mr. Bowler suggested at once that we, as the bench of magistrates, should quickly sentence them to have their bare bottoms cut to ribbons by a riding-whip while we watched. I confess it is a fault in me, but my morality is not strict enough to impose such exciting punishments on girls for things which I secretly wish them to do. I argued for clemency, while plump young Ange quivered and hard-faced Pat looked at me with a knowing and randy glance. It was agreed in the end that each girl must have a mere spanking from the magistrates in person but that, to teach them a lesson, they must perform their private lesson publicly on the table in front of us.
It was my first experience of summary justice as administered in the English countryside and I foresaw all sorts of enjoyments in store. Mr. Bowler was very adept at shaming girls into virtue by this public display of secret vices. He had made Noreen and Pat have sex on the table in front of him and had forced Noreen and Ange to make love in this way several times. Yet for Pat and Ange to have sex together without his consent was nothing short of a "crime."
He made Ange strip off her pants and stand in her singlet. With her soft chin and the razor-cut crop her face assumed an air of panic. Yet she obeyed, showing the soft plumpness of her white bottom-cheeks and thighs which had lured so many gentlemen to stare at the saddlers emporium. Pat watched the undressing and I saw a slyly excited slant of her dark hazel eyes as she observed Ange unveil a shimmering pallor of belly flesh and pubic bush.
"On the table, Ange, you fat-arsed bitch!"
She put her knee up, pulled, and clambered up with a seductive spreading of thighs and fattening of ass-cheeks.
Now it was Pat's turn to strip off her pants, which she did quickly and without the least protest. Not waiting for any further instruction, she smoothed the slight waves of her golden blonde coiffure, shaped close to her head and trimmed above her collar, then came forward and clambered on to the table. For all their more vulgar qualities, Pat and Ange were well matched to have sex together in front of their master. Pat had the hard features, the trimly robust figure, and the randy look in her dark hazel eyes. Ange with her softer face and figure, the hesitation in her blue eyes, her hair trimmed like a felons, made an ideally submissive but reluctant victim.
"Lie on your sides," said Mr. Bowler sharply, "Pull your singlets high enough to bare your breasts. Lie close enough for your nipples to touch. Now, since you were so eager to make love, let's see you do it properly before you get a taste of the strap across your two bottoms!"
Ange was dumbstruck at the command but Pat took the initiative almost at once. She kissed the nineteen-year-old's lips, eyes, and neck, her hands running easily over the softness of the thighs and the fattish cheeks of Ange's bottom which, tightly clad in denim, had drawn so many admiring glances from passers-by. Then Pat's fingers went between the front of Ange's legs and began to stroke and squeeze, stroke and squeeze, stroke and squeeze, just as she had done to Tracey under Mr. Bowler's orders.
Angie gave a sob of longing and submission. Pat raised one of her own knees a little and opened the way for Ange to fondle her at the same time. Soon the two shopgirls were making love, the justices leaning forward a little in their seats to watch minutely, and Mr. Bowler giving commands to the two girls.
"Patricia! Use one hand to tweak Angela's nipples and stiffen them. ... Angela! Lick Pat's breasts for her. Tease her nipples with your tongue and teeth!. ... Take your hand from between Angie's thighs, Pat, and show us the state of your fingers. Ah, yes! You're moistening nicely, Angela, are you not?. ... Now, let's see you do it properly to each other. ... Give each other a good time while you've got the chance!"
I watched the quiver and shimmer of Ange's plump white hips, the sinuous writhing of Pat's firm thighs. We were the magistrates for the village of Coombe and its estates. Were we now in legal session or was this merely private justice by Mr. Bowler? As Ange's fat young buttocks swelled and contorted rhythmically a few inches in front of me on the table, I hardly dared to ask the question.
"Rub your clitoris on Pat's fingers, Angela!" said Mr. Bowler peremptorily, "Do it better than that! Must we smack your bottom to make you perform? Ah, the inner surfaces of your thighs begin to wet at last!. ... Now, my precious pair of sluts! Arch those backsides out a little to the gentlemen behind you! Open yourselves more fully and show us what you're doing to each other!"
So they did. Indeed, lewd and randy Pat drew her knees up a little and almost thrust her butt into Mr. Snook's face while Ange continued to fondle her between the legs. Mr. Snook in turn stroked the firm cheeks of Pat's working-girl backside. He rolled one finger in the butter-dish and, having lubricated it, inserted it to the knuckle in Pat's arsehole. You may judge her randiness from the way in which, while being masturbated between her legs, Pat also moved her butt lovingly upon the finger, as much for Mr. Snook's pleasure as her own.
On my own side of the table, the magistrates were attending to the rump of Angela Fatarse. They played between the plump cheeks of Ange's bottom with every implement that came to hand, tickling her up with the little brush for sweeping the table, then putting a touch of mustard to her rear dimple to make her ride more vigorously. Then Mr. Bowler commanded the two delinquent girls to stop their mutual caressing. Each was now to make love to herself.
"Fingers between your thighs, Pat! Lift your upper leg a little and show us! You like to love yourself, don't you? Does it make you close your eyes and gasp for breath?. ... Play with yourself properly, Ange!. ... Better than that!. ... Show us what you like to do best!. ... A smack on your bottom will wake you up!"
For half-an-hour, twenty-year-old Pat and nineteen-year-old Ange diddled themselves in this manner. Their lips were parted as they breathed more rapidly. Their eyes closed, fluttered open briefly, then closed again in dreamy enjoyment of their solitary pleasure. At last Mr. Bowler gave an order to the servants. To each girl's astonishment, her wrists were seized and fastened high, to a leather collar round her neck. Mr. Bowler took up his strap, broad and thin, twelve inches and split into three tails at the end.
"You first, Angela! Turn on your belly! Fifty smarting kisses of leather across those fat white bottom-cheeks!"
The spanking-stap was the severest known to any school. Many a teacher would have loved to use his skill with it upon the plump bare buttocks of nineteen-year-old Angie! Two footmen held her down by the shoulders, another held her feet to prevent the young tart kicking out at her chastiser. Mr. Bowler raised the tawse and brought it down with a smack that forced a shriek from Ange and caused her plump bottom-flesh to jump and quiver with the impact.
Do you doubt that Mr. Bowler was motivated by the highest legal and moral duty? Let me direct you, then, to the work of that eminent judge, Sir James
Fitzjames Stephen, on Criminal Law. Such indecency as Pat and Ange had committed upon each other may be punished by whipping and "in addition to the sentence of whipping ... a certified reformatory ... for not less than two and not more than five years." Mr. Bowler was therefore merely carrying out the due process of law.
Ange twisted the close crop of her dark hair, her blue eyes dismayed and her mouth wide. Smack! went the strap across the writhing fatness of her rear cheeks again. In her frenzy she let out a wild yell and her feet broke free from the servant holding them. like a swimmer doing the American crawl, her legs kicked and squirmed. Mr. Bowler tamed this by thrashing her hard with the strap across her plump thighs. Angie squealed and twisted but soon a dozen imprints of the strap blazed across the backs of her legs from her knees to the softness just below her rear cheeks. When her little revolt had been subdued and her ankles were pinioned, Mr. Bowler went back to the start and began her fifty smacks with the strap all over again.
He made it hurt, as such a discipline should, and the hind quarters of Miss Angela Fatarse were swollen and crimson by the spanking strap long before the fifty smacks had been completed. We were having such fun with this young working-girl of Mr. Bowler's, ready hands holding her down at thighs and waist, that we scarcely had time to look at the other. Yet I glanced aside and saw Pat, also lying on her belly with her wrists secured to her collar. The hard-faced young bitch was squeezing herself between her thighs in a most unambiguous fashion. That rhythmic contraction and slackening of her thighs and buttocks was capable of only one explanation! Pat had been aroused by the fingering on the table and was now masturbating quite openly again. Why did she do so? Was it merely the need to finish off what had been begun? Did the vicious little whore get a secret thrill from seeing Ange spanked with a strap? Or was Pat getting excited by what lay in store for her presently?
For the moment it was Ange who occupied us. There were leather smacks and bottom-wobble, crimson cheeks and writhing hips. Mr. Bowler tanned her pitilessly, as the law requires. Yet her shrillest cries came when the tails of the strap curled in between her legs, or even between the surging and writhing cheeks of Ange's bottom. Even when she had her fifty smacks, no one interfered. Being a plump and plain girl, the short razor-cut of hair adding to that plainness, Ange has the look of a sturdy country bumpkin whose finer sensibilities need not be considered. She had the strap again till her buttocks were so smarting and throbbing that I swear Ange would have screamed at the lightest hand-smack or pinch. The virtue of the strap, of course, is that such punishment can be definitely prolonged while leaving only a deep ass-blush which fades in an hour or two, after which the spanking can be repeated all over again!
At length it was over. Ange was left on her belly, gulping and tearful as she loudly lamented the state of her spanked bottom! Randy young Pat needed no commands. Yet I confess, though I had often noted the lascivious look in her hard features and the slant of her dark hazel eyes, I was quite taken aback by the young whore's conduct now. Pat did not merely lie on her belly over the table. She knelt upright, moving her knees a little apart. Then she bent forward from the waist, not on hand and knees but lowering her head until the short cut of her blonde hair was pillowed on the surface of the table itself. The lascivious young bitch was egging us on to extremes which we had not thought of! With head low and hips high, even her knees parted, Pat offered her firm robust young bottom-cheeks rounded and parted, her thighs open a little. I think she had parted her legs and knelt astride in order to look back at us through that living arch.
You may in some future volume read of Pat stripped and helpless in the hands of a pitiless master. Do not sigh for her. It is the fate she invites and, perhaps, enjoys. Having seen her on this first evening, I would never intervene to spare her from cruelty. If I saw her fastened in such a position for a purpose-her master's emblem to be branded between Pat's bottom-cheeks or Pat's anus to be stretched on a cucumber-dildo-I would not save her. She cannot be insensible to suffering and yet, of all Mr. Bowler's wenches, Pat is the young female criminal whose manner challenges a man to inflict anguish upon her.
While she was held in her chosen posture, we clustered behind her and had a good look at her most intimate details. Pat's cunt is light-haired and moistens easily, which is a further tribute to her randy nature. Her ass-cheeks looked hard and strong in this pose. As for Pat's arsehole, when closely peered at, it exhibits a slight but evident tensing of excitement.
She offered herself quite blatantly, even opening her legs a little wider and looking back at us through them as we examined her. She is quite shameless and deserves all that is done to her. Then we stood back and Mr. Bowler picked up the strap. He began to thrash Pat's backside and legs without mercy. You may be sure that he hurt her and that she gave short and vigorous cries at each stroke. Yet Pat's cries sound as much of anger or challenge as of pain, brief and guttural as they seem. I was reminded of her as a healthy young female animal in her spasm, when a male has mounted her. Towards the end, you would have been hard put to it to distinguish her crescendo of sharp and urgent cries as being those of punishment rather than orgasm.
And yet, I promise you, Pat was tanned all right! Mr. Bowler strapped her firm young butt-cheeks with his tawse, smacking this way and that until Pat's buttocks glowed a dangerous red. Then he vowed that Pat was offering her anus lewdly and, as a revenge, he began the thrashing all over again. Several times he aimed the strap low, so that its tails flicked agonisingly between her legs and caught her love-lips. Pat shrieked at this but made no other protest. Sometimes he aimed the strap so that its tails gave their searing flick between Pat's bottom-cheeks!
But let me tell you a singular thing. I have seen a number of girls thrashed but none like this. Where others would have burst into floods of tears, like Ange, Pat merely gave a short guttural cry and challenged her master to do his worst. So, you may easily believe, I shall have much more to tell of this young bitch in future volumes! Indeed, I learnt that they made her have sex with Noreen on this very table the next morning.
It may be that you doubt, even now, the legality of Mr. Bowler's powers as magistrate to thrash Ange and Pat in this way. So did I. Indeed, I murmured my unease to Master Miles. He it was who acquainted me first with the provision of the English law as set down by the learned Judge Stephen, in his comments on "the punishment of whipping." He tells us that "the number of strokes and the instrument to be used are left to the discretion of the person by whom the whipping is inflicted." This, writes the learned judge, "must still be the practice." Mr. Bowler only did to his working-girls, who drew such attention to his saddlery, what every justice in England may do to such young whores when needs be!
I will only add here that I was to spend the night as Mr. Bowler's guest and that I went up to bed an hour or two later. The room was already lit. Angela and Patricia stood naked on either side of the bed awaiting my pleasure. Their bottom-cheeks had by now faded in color from crimson to lily-pallor. Ange the fat-arsed bumpkin, looked very apprehensive. Pat's hard young face invited me to do my worse.
I will not weary you with many details for I have much else to tell you about Mr. Bowler's establishment. I gave Ange a quick frig between the legs with my forefinger and a cunt-ride to console her for the strap. It was Pat whom I truly wished to put to the test. And so I did.
While Ange lay to one side, playing with herself as if she hoped I could not see, I rode between the legs of the vicious young blonde. Not wishing to be the recipient of a paternity summons, however, I withdrew before spending and made her turn over on her belly. She did this with the usual knowing slant of her hazel eyes and the sardonic smile on her lips.
"You must submit your bottom, Pat," I said, and the look in her eyes did not falter. I took the stick of soap, conveniently round, spat on it and gave it to Pat leisurely up her bottom, sensing she would enjoy it more in that manner. Then kneeling astride her hips I demanded entrance to her rear portal with the head of my ram and gained it at a thrust. As I sodomised twenty-year-old Pat, she twisted the short cut of her blonde hair on the pillow, trying to look back at me all the time and provoke me by the lewd challenge in her wicked eyes.
"You like a man in your bottom, Pat?"
"Yes," I saw the sardonic line of her mouth form a smile and she butted her hips up and down to egg me on.
"The men who admire you at your work, Pat, those firm young bottom-cheeks in tight denim! Do you see the stiffness in their trousers? Do you like that too?"
"Yes," gasped the young slut, "Yes I do!"
Pat may be a hard-faced common slut but she can excite a man beyond measure. My sperm burst twice in her backside without my prick withdrawing-and in such quantities that Pat had to scramble from the bed and attend to it quickly when I at last uncorked her bottom!
Yet I must report another matter which occurred next day on my visit to Mr. Bowler. I had wondered, as who should not, what had become of Noreen after the young tart was broken in by her master's whip. I had always found it hard to believe that such an insolent and sturdy girl could have her disposition altered by any amount of lashing. It would teach her to curb her impudence and obey orders, in case she should be lashed again, but Noreen's character was too strong to be overturned. I confess that this pleased me, for there would be ample excuse to have her under correction again.
I must tell you then that she was called upon after dinner-at about nine in the evening-to attend us in Mr. Bowler's private study where we took our coffee and brandy. Master Miles and Mr. Snook, as well as Mr. Bowler, were there, so that we were four in all. We were attended by the three older girls and by Pat stood by my deep leather chair and Noreen was detailed to provide Mr. Snook's comforts. She was dressed in the costume he preferred, being a snug white singlet and the tight riding-jeans of pale blue denim drawn tighter still by the broad leather belt at her waist.
As he took coffee, Mr. Snook required his well-built girl to stand at the very arm of his chair, turn her back, and stoop forward a little with her hands on her knees. As Noreen obeyed, the collar length of her lank dark hair fell forward a little, partly obscuring the features of her firm fair-skinned face and her brown eyes.
Mr. Snook sipped coffee and talked. Yet with one hand he stroked the smooth and skin-tight denim of the jeans as Noreen presented her broad-cheeked seat to him. Noreen's butt was no more than twelve inches from the end of Mr. Snooks sharp and purple-veined nose as he admired the seat of her pants in this posture. The briefs she wore underneath were outlined by a clear ridge through the denim, the hem of their seat arching up suggestively high and tight over each strapping cheek of Noreen's bottom.
Because the denim was so tight it was not only Noreen's buttocks but the crack between them which was offered, the two halves of her butt lightly parted. Though she had been taught obedience over the yoke-bar, there was a flinching and a tightening of her chin as Mr. Snooks finger lay between her rear cheeks, teasing Noreen's crack. Then his fingers traveled down a little to squeeze gently the soft bulge of cunt-flesh in the denim.
"Bend right over, Noreen!" he said suddenly and sharply, "Spread those rear cheeks, you young whore! Show me a big-bottomed view!"
The points of her cheekbones colored with indignation but she obeyed him. Noreen's humiliation was beginning, as it did after dinner every evening. Mr. Snook examined and stroked the seat of her jeans more intently, broad female buttocks, sturdy and inviting in this posture, swelling out just as he liked them. For a while he was entirely content to fondle the robust young cheeks of Noreen's backside through the tight denim seat of the jeans. Then his commands became peremptory.
"Round out those strapping ass-cheeks, Noreen, and sound your post-horn for us."
Even a bold-faced young tart of Noreen's kind looked dismayed by a command so unseemly. Still bending, she raised her eyes to Mr. Bowler's as if begging a reprieve from such rudeness.
"Must I send for the whip, Noreen?" Mr. Bowler asked.
So it was that with the jeans denim tight over her broad and swelling buttocks as she bent, Noreen sounded the rudest note of which any young strumpet was capable. Mr. Snook fondled her behind even more enthusiastically in his senile glee.
"Again, if you please, Noreen!"
Frantically she protested her inability and Mr. Snook agreed that this twenty-one-year old should have a moment to recoup her powers. Then he made her repeat the vulgarity from her rear blow-hole until Noreen's insolence was well punished. At every upward glance of her brown eyes as she shook clear the level fringe of dark hair, Noreen met the smiles and laughter of the men at her as they witnessed her enforced rudeness.
"Noreen," said Mr. Snook presently, "Slip your jeans and panties down and bend over bare-bottomed."
Reluctantly and still bending, Noreen undid the stout leather belt at her waist and drew down the denim pants. She stepped out of them. Noreen's panties were the briefs of white stretched cotton suitable for wear under such working-trousers. She pulled these down as well and bent naked from the singlet hem at her waist down to her feet.
Noreen's panties had a special value for Mr. Snook, who took them and tucked the still warm cotton web into his pocket. He now boasted a prize collection of such underpants culled from girls and young women who passed through his hands. The desk in which they lay was a treasure house of happy memories. Noreen's briefs were by no means the first specimen for he had now almost a dozen pairs of the young woman's plain cotton panties. Some had been stripped from her while she lay waiting over the whipping stool. Several more were those which Noreen had taken off in the toilet while the old man was present. Much of their attraction to this lewd old fellow was in the hard wear which Noreen had given them for several days. They were among a hundred pairs over which the old fellow mused happily each night. Some came from ingenues of fourteen or so, the schoolgirl panties of Sally Fenton or Michele Page, others from women of twenty-five or thirty, including several pairs of blonde Maggie's plain white panties, which he had watched her take off in the toilet while he flexed his cane.
Now he was able to admire the smooth and full-cheeked pallor of Noreen's bare bottom as she bent over before him. Mr. Snook beckoned the servants and gave his orders. Two rubber penises were brought, each a stout specimen imitating a fine erection. One was strapped firmly in place on the left arm of the leather chair and the other on the right. The left-hand phallus rose upright but at a slight forward angle. Mr. Snook smiled.
"Stand up, Noreen. Straddle the arm of the chair and face me. Now, lower yourself until the rubber phallus enters your loins. Ah, it makes you gasp a little! Is that excitement or alarm? A little of each, I suspect! Now support yourself on your hands and ride the penis, Noreen! Keep your face to me so that I may see how you like it. ... No hesitation, Noreen! You won't like it if the footmen have to reprimand you!"
So, for the diversion of all those present, Noreen began to ride her strong young hips up and down, the length of the rubber entering and emerging between her legs at each thrust. For all her rebelliousness and impudence, I can assure you she enjoyed this. I daresay she would have preferred it in private with the young ruffian of her choice, but that was another matter. After about ten minutes, her movements as she shafted herself became much quicker but more erratic. Then her hair fell forward, she bowed her face, and her hips moved with a slow and grinding intensity as if trying to squeeze out the last drop of passion in her loins. There was a perceptible shudder through her firm pale thighs and flanks. Noreen had been made to come in front of us.
Mr. Snook instructed the footmen to raise Noreen from the phallus which she straddled and which impaled her. She was now led to the other arm of the chair and held with her back to it. The phallus here was of similarly stout proportions. It projected almost horizontally forward from the chair-arm at a slight upward angle. Noreen struggled and gasped as they bent her over again, guessing what lay in store. But Mr. Snook murmured to her the extreme penalties of disobedience and the struggling stopped. Noreen shook clear her lank dark hair and twisted her face round, dreading what was to be done to her and, curiously, desperate to see what was happening. Mr. Snook met her eyes with a wicked smile and showed her the jar of vaseline as he unscrewed it. The footmen were only too eager for a pretext to fondle the bare cheeks of Noreen's backside. They held her buttocks apart while Mr. Snook vaselined Noreen's anus thoroughly. Noreen was sixteen the first time this was done to her by her master so that it was not quite the outrage it might seem.
The footmen backed the bending and unwilling young woman towards the instrument of ravishing. Mr. Snook in his chair had a view at twelve inches of the rubber knob pressing imperiously between Noreen's ass-cheeks. The footmen guided her hips, pressing her back remorselessly until Noreen gave a sharp cry. The rubber knob had widened and opened her arsehole, its length now sliding into her. A hilt ensured that even my misadventure not more than eight inches of the stout dildo could enter Noreen's backside. A chain round her waist and extending to the rear ensured, at the other extreme, that the girl could not draw the entire length from her, two inches always remaining in Noreen's ass.
"Now we must make you do half an hour of such exercise, Noreen!" said old Mr. Snook, grinning fit to bust.
She bent with wrists tethered and ankles pinioned, obliged to perform his wishes or endure a touching-up from the glow of his cheroot. Slowly her hips moved, taking the length of it into her, then drawing it out. Mr. Snook, watching her rear view closely was not satisfied.
"Do it much faster than that, Noreen! In and out to the tick of the clock. The inward thrust with every tick of the second-hand. In-out, in-out, in-out...."
And so they made her for half an hour. Mr. Snook with such a close view could not take his eyes off her. The big firm cheeks of Noreen's bottom surged towards him, drew away, then surged again as the rubber shaft vanished up her behind. Noreen's anus was no more than a hard-stretched rim round the intruding phallus. Several times the footmen cured her hesitancy by pressing her right back so that the full eight inches entered. A half choked sound of alarm escaped the girl's throat as if she had felt the knob all the way to her belly-button.
I grew increasingly uneasy to see the way in which my fellow magistrates revenged themselves upon an insolent young trollop who, they would ensure, was never allowed to tell tales against them. There could be but one conclusion to such a performance. The rubber dildo had two balls, each the size of a grapefruit. Into these went a noisome mixture. The spendings of a dozen stable-boys were mingled with the warm flood of Pat and Ange, a golden quart. A cupful of liquid soap was added and a libation which a daring groom coaxed from a stud bull. Each globe was swollen to the size of a football, it seemed. Yet Mr. Snook, his covetous eyes on Noreen's bottom and the impaling dildo between its cheeks, pumped the entire contents of the huge balls into Noreen's backside, until the footmen had to support her in her ordeal.
To be sure, it was an astonishing sight for the load had even made her belly swell a little as if Noreen might whelp in a few months more. What could they do with her now? Here was a pretty picked that Mr. Snook's unsavory tastes had brought about! They could not keep her in Mr. Bowler's study for if Noreen backfired now it would be the ruination of the place.
They took the young tart into the stable-yard, where many a filly lifts her tail and lets fly. She was bent over the iron post and we watched from a distance. A moment more and Noreen's anus squirted high the contents of her rear in a pulsing jet like a fountain of the most ornamental kind. And still Mr. Snook was not satisfied, for aged impotence never can be. We left him with the strapping wench and a syringe whose barrel would hold a quart or two. By next day the young woman was limp and blown as if she had been in labor all night.
Mr. Snook's demands on Noreen were not always so elaborate. Sometimes he required only that, at dinner, she should bend over the table next to his place, bare from the singlet hem at her waist down to her feet. It was his custom to use her as an ornamental vase. When eating cherries or olives, he would pop the stones up Noreen's bottom. The inconvenience was not severe but it was uncomfortable enough for Noreen to shift her ass-cheeks and earn a smack on them to make her keep still.
After dinner as we lit our cigars and talked round the table, it was Mr. Snook who smudged Noreen's bottom-cheeks with falls of gray ash. When the well-licked butt of the weed was dead, that too disappeared from sight between the broad buttocks of his favorite slave-girl and her tight rear hole closed over it. The meal done, he would rinse his fingers in the bowl provided, with a little soap, using the paper tissue. Soon the wet and soap-glistening wad would mop the gray ash-powder from the swelling pallor of Noreen's ass-cheeks as she bent reluctantly. Then that wad itself was poked by the old man's finger into the same place. Noreen's discomfiture would often last all night before she was permitted to retire.
At other times, Mr. Snook liked to use her as living candelabra. Noreen, naked but for the singlet pulled up above her waist, lay face-down along the dining-table, hips and backside raised by a round leather cushion. The base of the tall candle was gently inserted in her anus and held by a strap running between her rear cheeks. The wick was lit and for several hours it illuminated the dark room. A quick tensing of Noreen's buttocks as the melted wax dripped on them and stung her lightly added much to the old man's enjoyment. There was, he showed us, a further advantage. By making her lie with her hands folded under her loins, Noreen could be instructed to play with herself while we sat round the table. This was commanded on every occasion of the kind, so that we watched the fingers moving in the rear opening of her thighs.
When the dinner and the festivities were over, Noreen was sent to the room where she slept. It was agreed that she should be placed face-down on the bed, pillows under her belly, her wrists attached to the frame on either side by cuffs of soft leather. She was not permitted to wear more than the short white singlet in which she had been escorted there.
Even lying on the bed, the girl was not safe from Mr. Snooks intrusions. Often he would come there silently and stand over the sleeper, for a light was always left on. The lank dark hair fell about the girl's firm young profile on the bolster. To make her available during the night, the hem of the singlet at the rear had been pulled well up above her hips so that Noreen's bottom was properly bare and the rear route to her cunt open. With a short snakeskin lash in his hand, Mr. Snook would lick his lips and sigh as he admired the swelling full-cheeked pallor of Noreen's backside.
His caresses on that smooth and cool-cheeked rear soon startled her from sleep. With no one to spy upon his senile lewdness, the elderly justice would perch beside her on the bed. His lips browsed in long kisses over the curves of Noreen's buttocks.
"Ah, your bottom, Noreen!" he would murmur, "How it keeps me from sleep! Those splendid rear cheeks. ... And between them, your crack, Noreen!. ... Does it truly alarm you to feel a kiss there?"
Pressing the cheeks apart, the old loon touched his lips to the warmer and more humid smoothness of the inner slopes. He did not scruple in his crapulous passion to mould kisses to Noreen's anus, pouting at it repeatedly like a honeymoon bridegroom.
"Ah, your arsehole, Noreen! I shall find employment for it in the months to come! Why, I have hardly begun with you yet...."
Then she shivered as his lips touched her cunt but Mr. Snook had not come to visit her for an exchange of pleasantries. The grooms were called. Sometimes it was to hoist Noreen astraddle so that she bent with buttocks widely parted. Using the short snakeskin, Mr. Snook demonstrated one crack-shot after another, as if revenging himself upon Noreen for the way in which her vulgar sluttishness mocked his aged impotence. He vowed that even Noreen's boy-friend, furious though he was at losing the girl, would have bribed the grooms for a glimpse at her when Mr. Snook's lash had embroidered her between her rear cheeks.
Though he dealt with many girls, I assure you that the drawers of the old gentleman's desk bore a number of labels which testify to this single obsession. You might read there: NOREEN'S BOTTOM ... NOREEN'S OBEDIENCE-TRAINING ... NOREEN'S KNICKERS ... NOREEN'S PUNISHMENTS ... NOREEN'S BACKSIDE WHIPPED ... NOREEN BIRCHED ... NOREEN'S ARSEHOLE ... NOREEN ... NOREEN ... NOREEN. . .
From time to time he put the girl to an "obedience test" in front of the rest of us. The tiled room was then equipped with stools and tables, strange saddles mounted on blocks, and devices protruding through holes in the wall. Noreen was naked but for the leather collar and the cuffs which held her wrists close to it at the front. To fail he obedience test by refusing a command given was to incur a night over a stool in a soundproof room. I dare not reveal what passed there but my memory recalls images of Mr. Snook happily pumping a small pair of bellows, the nozzle between Noreen's buttocks, or introducing monstrous devices to her cunt and butt.
Why was the old fellow not seized by the police and thrown into Newgate? Good-natured reader that you are, how little you understand about our country's laws! Mr. Snook was magistrate in his village and, as such, the police were subject to his command there. Why, then, did the attorney-general not swear out an affadavit to have him prosecuted before the lord chief justice? In the first place, Noreen was never permitted to make complaints. Had she done so, why, Snook and the attorney-general were boys together at Eton College. In such monastic establishments lads are apt to get up one another's backs. Snook could tell you the name of every smaller boy who was buggered or made to suck prick by that spark of seventeen who is now attorney-general! And what of the lord chief justice? England's ruling class is not extensive and it will not surprise you to learn that the justice is Snook's own cousin. Indeed, they had their first girl together-a common trollop of Noreen's kind-one in her cunt and the other up her behind. You may be sure there will be no proceedings against Mr. Snook with such stories as he might tell. Suppose, with Noreen over the block, her bottom well-whipped, he should go further. He might take a leather thong, draw it round her throat and slowly strangle her. Would they prosecute him for murder? To put Noreen to death would be a verdict of natural causes. The government of a country is not permitted to fall because a young trollop has met an early end. Indeed, such great men as the attorney and the justice would assure you that a young tart like Noreen was a burden to the men who pay rates and taxes. The man who hangs Noreen may be sure of their approval, provided he does it discreetly.
So Mr. Snook and his cronies put her to an obedience-test, knowing that they might do their worst with impunity. The old mans voice gave commands as they sat in their leather chairs and enjoyed the spectacle.
"Noreen! Take the glass on the table. Drink stable-boys' cock milk, Noreen!. ... Noreen! Astride the masturbating-saddle and show us how you like to do it!. ... Noreen! Bend over and take the rubber diddler up your behind, Noreen!. ... Ride it hard. ... Match the tick of the clock!. ... Noreen! Drink another pint of lads'milk!. ... Noreen! Lie butt-upwards over the thrashing stool for the grooms' bamboo!. ... What splendid bamboo weals!. ... Noreen! Be rude with your backside to amuse the men who cane you!. ... Noreen! Another drink of boys' milk!. ... Noreen! Over the thrashing stool again! The whip this time, Noreen!. ... Ah! What a rude bottom under the lash, Noreen!. ... Do you see the gasper poking through the wall-hole? Turn your back to it and bend. ... Snuff it out between your ass-cheeks, No-reen!....
On and on it went. Mr. Snook's face assumed a ghastly grin of excitement as he put the strapping young wench through her paces. After a few days, of course, she was well recovered from such severity. Then, as Mr. Bowler's guest, one would stir in the darkest hours of night, aware that the light in Noreen's room was burning and that the old man was leaning over her as she lay on her belly over the pillows, the singlet pulled well up from her hips.
"Don't tense the cheeks of your bottom, Noreen!
My lips must find them cool and smooth. ... Such broad pale curves!. ... So full and firm. ... I think you like to be a defiant young slut, Noreen. Don't you? I think you like the punishments we make you endure!. ... Now your bottom again, Noreen!. ... Ah, Noreen! Noreen...."