Chapter 7

My misgivings about Mr. Snook and his companions-I resolve to keep a distance between us-Mr. Bowler seeks to make me amends-I receive a delightful present-Tracey, the nymph of sixteen-Mr. Bowler invites me to chastise her in his place-I am to return her thrashed and pleasured-Tracey begs for this, anxious to avoid Mr. Bowler's vengeance-I agree out of charity-We retire to the bedroom first-The beauty of Tracey stripped naked-My hour of pleasure between her elegant thighs-Tracey revives me with her lips-The demure charms of her bottom-Af last we withdraw to the stables-I carry out my stern duty on her-My first reluctance turns to secret enjoyment-An evening of remorse-I plan to remove Tracey and the other girls to Coombe.

Believe me, it was only little by little that I discovered the true nature of Mr. Snook and his companions. There was nothing to be done, for severity with such young hussies was sanctioned by the law. As magistrates they were esteemed the most respectable gentlemen in the neighborhood and the severest of moralists. Yet I had no need of their company with Laura and Ruth, Sian and Jacquie, available to me. Jacquie, with her lank blonde hair and fringe, her wide blue eyes and shapely sixteen-year-old figure, had arrived as companion to my two other girls from Chelsea.

I had no wish to offend, nor start a quarrel. With the attorney general and a the lord chief justice on their side, Messrs. Snook, Bowler and Miles were bound to be victorious. Instead, I kept my distance, remaining at Coombe though behaving in a civil manner.

So matters went on for a few weeks. Then my man, Heathers, came to me one morning to announce the arrival of a visitor, escorted to Coombe by two of Mr. Bowler's servants. Those servants had instructions to wait and then to take their charge back again as soon as the business was completed.

I promise you that I had not the least idea what I should expect. However, on entering the parlor I saw Tracey, exquisitely dressed in the tight white riding-costume of smooth trousers and short coatee. Those long elegant legs and thighs were at perfection in the wake of her sixteenth birthday. Her hips were round and graceful, trim and yet with the cheeks of her behind well shaped. Above all was the calm, straight-featured profile, the steady blue eyes, and that silken veil of blonde hair which she combed from her left-hand parting, aslant her forehead, swept back to lie in romantic disorder upon her shoulder-blades.

But why was she here? Tracey came forward and with calm resolve explained the situation to me. She had displeased Mr. Bowler who, as usual, reached for his whip. Then he had a more original thought. In order to curry favor with me, I should be the one who brought Tracey under discipline. So he had sent her to Coombe in order that the girl might plead with me to be punished. If she failed, he promised her a far worse fate, Tracey would be wickedly broken-in over the yoke-bar as Noreen had been. She must return with the oval nymph-cheeks of her young bottom well marked, and with every sign of having been used in the routes of pleasure which her body offered.

I could scarcely keep my hands off Tracey at the thought of all the things I should have to do to her in order to fulfill this bargain. At the same time, I would be doing her a favor. The cruelty of breaking-in would be spared her. If not, I could imagine what the stable-boys would do to her! Not to mention old Mr. Snook, who would make Tracey Hope fart and writhe her bare buttocks under his lash.

"I would rather be dealt with by you, my lord," said Tracey with her young dignity, "I know what I should suffer from Mr. Bowler and Mr. Snook."

It was at her request, then, that I led her away to my study.

It was, you will admit, a most unusual situation but a provoking one. To save Tracey from the horrors of the yoke-bar, I must make gentle love between her legs and, at Mr. Bowlers invitation, between the demure cheeks of her sixteen-year-old bottom. I should be a hypocrite to pretend that the thought did not greatly excite me! Having had fun with Tracey, I would then be obliged to take her to the stables, where the whips were kept. In order to escape worse discipline, she must return to Bowler Park with her charming buttocks amply bruised and adorned with some intriguing welts. Her master was insistent upon this.

I wonder what you would have done? For the future, I decided that I would use every effort to get Tracey out of the clutches of a strict moralist like Mr. Bowler and have her under my own more easy-going care. I wondered if money would tempt him to part with her. She would be whipped less and often allowed to go without others forms of punishment. I would not insist upon giving her enemas and obliging her to perform the most menial functions before me. Alas, this goes to show I cannot match the high moral standards set by Mr. Bowler, nor the enthusiasm for cleanliness and decency which I am sure drives Mr. Snook to such extremes.

I sat down in one of the leather chairs in the study.

"Walk up and down, Tracey," I said gently, "Let me see how you move your legs and hips."

She obeyed me and I gazed enraptured. As this graceful nymph moved, her firm young breasts stirred charmingly under the thin covering of light wool. Tracey has an easy, gliding step, well demonstrated in the skin tightness of denim riding-pants. Her slim legs branch nicely outward from the knees, her thighs forming that characteristic feminine bow which ends with the lithe rounding of her hips. She turned her back and walked away across the room, causing my penis to stiffen a little more at the sight. Though her legs have a slender elegance natural to her build, Tracey's bottom-cheeks are erotically rounded and, when she bends, she presents quite a full seat, though her buttocks are taut and quite deeply separated in that posture.

"Lie on the sofa, Tracey," I said gently, "Take your riding-pants and coatee off first."

My luscious young nymph obeyed. She shrugged off the coatee-also taking off her white tall-heeled boots-and then undid the tight white riding-jeans. She took them off to reveal fair-skinned legs, smooth as silk, whose narrow thighs were still endowed with a very feminine shape. As soon as she lay on the sofa, I stood over her, sliding my hands under her woolen singlet to fondle her breasts. Then I began to peel down the stretched cotton of her briefs. Her hand touched mine.

"I must keep my underpants for Mr. Snook," she said, blushing a moment, "He wishes me to wear them a little before he takes them."

"Never fear," I growled, "Mr. Snook shall have them! But they must come off for an hour or two!"

What an old reprobate he is-though you will seek in vain for such an opinion among his own tenants or the present government! I drew Tracey's panties off while she raised her hips to assist me. Presently her singlet came off too and she lay naked. I began to kiss her breasts, erecting their young nipples with my tongue. My lips touched her belly, a firm marble surface, kissing even her patch of golden fleece. I gave her clitoris a quick tongue-tickle, making Tracey gasp and clench her hands into fists with the thrill of it. Her silken veil of blonde hair spilt across my loins as she unbuttoned me and drew the sleepy penis from its lair, kissing its knob with light and hesitant poutings.

I turned my head and caught her eye with a smile.

"You don't get off that lightly, Tracey! Take it in your mouth properly. A man-likes to see a young girl beautiful as you sucking him. Do it better than that, Tracey! Right in! Use your tongue! Surely your boyfriends used to make you do it to them?"

Unlike Mr. Bowler, however, I did not take pleasure without giving some in return. As Tracey lay on her side, facing me, I kissed the length of her slim thighs, my tongue on their inner surfaces too, tasting the mineral tang with which she had splashed them. I slid my tongue along her vaginal slit and she jerked as if a hornet had stung her there. Turning her a little, I caressed with my kisses the firm young ovals of Tracey's bottom-cheeks, pressing them apart for a good look into her crack. It was an impish desire to shock rather than lewdness of Mr. Snook's kind which impelled me now. I kissed the inward slopes of her bottom-crack and finally moulded my kiss to Tracey Hope's anus. She tensed herself quickly and I smiled.

"Still so shy about that tight little dimple, Tracey? Even the most beautiful girl has one! I'm sure Mr. Bowler will try to sell you to a man who will make good use of it. A girl as tall and graceful as you are must expect such admiration."

This gave her pause for thought, during which I turned her gently on her back, drew her knees up and held them apart. My erection entered Tracey between the legs with great ease, for she was already lubricating with excitement. I kissed her gently.

"It's not your first time, is it, Tracey? Some lucky boy must have found his way here while you were still a year or two younger. Who taught you to move your hips so easily with your lover, Tracey? I could almost believe it is a gift you have by instinct. You like the penis, I think. Your motion betrays you!"

With such gentle humor we rode together, giving no thought to the cruel ritual which must be undertaken before the girl returned to Bowler Park. Tracey's cunt had that delightful elasticity which one finds in tall and elegant girls of her age. The virgin obstacles had been cleared away and yet there was no sign of slackness which sometimes spoils a woman there after too much exercise. I did not ask her if she masturbated, for I knew the question would embarrass her more than usual. I was quite sure, as it happened, that Tracey masturbated but that she did so furtively in the belief that no one knew. Yet to feel her extreme reaction when her clitoris was touched was the surest reply to such an inquiry!

Presently I felt that the time to spend was arriving. Indeed, it was Tracey herself who first gave the signal. The heavy silken sweep of her golden blonde hair threshed from side to side as she drew breath sharply and worried her lower lip with her teeth. The forlorn and urgent cries of her orgasm began as I bit her lightly on the shoulders and breasts in play, driving her on, while my own spending boiled up and began pulsing in strong jets into her womb.

She gave a little sob of protest as I withdrew slowly from between her legs, at once bowing her head and kissing the limp phallus which had spent its all in her service. A moment more and the kissing became sucking. Indeed the sight of her beauty performing that service, Miss Tracey sucking the prick, stiffened me again. Presently the prick stood rampant and positively must find its mark. Yet we both felt instinctively that a second spending in her cunt would be to run a very great risk of undesirable results.

It was Tracey who, turning comfortably on her side with her back to me, looking over her shoulder with the slant of the blonde hair falling aside, solved the problem.

"You must do it in my bottom,'" she said simply.

I parted the oval nymph-cheeks and admired her between them.

"You're very tight there, Tracey. I shall make you a little uncomfortable."

"But you will excite me too," she said, "I shall be able to bear being a little uncomfortable if I am excited."

I could not have imagined this tall and willowy sixteen-year-old girl with the firm pride which showed in the tilt of her nose and chin, making such a suggestion. Yet it was Tracey who asked for the vaseline and, having prepared herself, lay there on her side, rounding out her graceful young bottom towards me, reaching back and parting its cheeks with her own hands. What a contrast this was to the vindictive way of doing such things under Mr. Bowler's roof.

"Once I begin, there will be no sparing you, Tracey," I said quietly, "If I hurt you a little, even if you should cry out to me to stop, I shall have to continue until I pump the sperm into your charming backside."

"I want it," said Tracey demurely. Tracey had had one or two boy-friends before she came into Mr. Bowler's possession but neither they nor her master himself had been adventurous enough to put her to this intimate ordeal. I slipped my fingers between her parted buttocks, paddling them in the lubricated rear valley of Tracey's crack to make her a little more roused in that area. Indeed I made her wait for it a while as I fondled the lithe grace of her bare thighs and the young Venus-cheeks of Tracey's backside. At last I let her feel my erection lying between her buttocks, hot and hard in Tracey's crack. I felt her tight young anus swell a little against my knob, as if straining to admit me, and then I was deliciously gripped in her butt.

For Tracey at sixteen it was perhaps an ordeal and, indeed, I found some excitement in the thought that I was going to make it last a long time. I did not break-in girls for Mr. Bowler's purposes, yet in the warm study on the leather sofa I chose to break-in Tracey to the use of her beautiful tight arsehole by a man. My wish, however, was to condition her to such excitement.

The young bitch certainly tried to give me a good time by her wrigglings and squeezings. Yet I think she was tense and a trifle sensitive before I finished. I paused occasionally to fondle her buttocks, for her rear view is charming. When she bends or thrusts out her rump, her rear cheeks swell firm and round, yet they are also clearly and quite widely separated in a manner which is most lewd and suggestive. No man who passed Mr. Bowler's emporium and saw Tracey bending in tight riding-jeans would ever forget the sight.

"Never had sperm in your backside before, Tracey?" I murmured, kissing her ear, "You'll feel it in a minute. No wonder Mr. Bowler dreams of selling you to one of the harems of Arabia! The pashas would never use you in any way but this. ... Now. ... Hold your bottom quite still, Tracey Hope! ... Ah, the feel of the passion squirting makes you wriggle a little! ... Now you get the thick gruel, warm and slippery. ... Ah, that beautiful young bottom, Tracey! ... It would be a shame if it were not enjoyed by men of such tastes. ... Tracey, darling. ... Ah, you randy young bitch. ... We must see that you adorn the bed of a pasha!..."

So, passionate and humorous, I spent in Tracey s charming rear all that I had left.

A more sombre mood descended upon us. Unless Tracey returned to Bowler Park soundly thrashed, a cruel punishment awaited her there. So it was that she, as well as I, yearned for bruises and weals on these same oval bottom-cheeks. I had never thrashed a girl in earnest and would not have done so now, but Tracey begged me to for fear of what Mr. Bowler would do.

"You must take me to the stables where the others cannot hear me," Tracey said nervously, "For I know I shall scream."

So it was that with Tracey's graceful thighs and elegant buttocks moving alluringly in tight riding-jeans, we walked down to the stables together. The fact that we had just made love in so elaborate a manner calmed her a little. Presently I let her walk on a moment under some pretext, in truth to watch her from behind, the easy gliding steps of her long legs and the slight swelling and swaying of her hips. I knew that I was going to enjoy thrashing Tracey Hope's bottom.

She undressed, without any command, when we got there. Standing only in her short singlet, she bent forward over the harness rail while I tethered her wrists and strapped her down on the wooden bar at her waist. I guessed she would dance and kick, however hard she tried not to and, for that reason, I drew a soft leather strap tight round her thighs at their base. I did not attempt to stifle her cries. Love-making and the vaselining of her anus had, in any case, now left Tracey's panties in a parlous state, however exciting their well-worn signs would be for Mr. Snook as a souvenir of this tall and graceful sixteen-year-old nymph.

The sight of said tall and graceful sixteen-year-old girl bending over for bare-bottom discipline began to stiffen me yet again. I chose a riding-switch--wickedly long and slim!-made of supple leather. It is not permitted in reformatories to use such a whip on the bare buttocks of a girl of sixteen and is not usual in private punishment. Yet exceptions are made where the attractions of the nymph, a sixteen-year-old like Judith Terry might be quoted, are such as to affect the chastiser profoundly. It was Tracey's downfall perhaps to have such beauty of figure and face.

She showed great courage, urging me to bruise and weal her well, so that she would not have to endure a "breaking-in" from her master and the grooms. With great excitement, I measured the supple switch across her bare buttocks, raised it and brought it thrashing down. Hard as she tried to check her outbursts, Tracey soon screamed. The art of thrashing such a girl is to time each stroke just as the swelling torment of its predecessor reaches a climax. And so I did. I must have given more than three dozen smarting lashes across the demure oval beauty of Tracey's sixteen-year-old bottom-cheeks. In the manner of a prison disciplinarian, I timed them so that the anguish grew with every impact.

Tracey's elegant thighs and graceful hips writhed, her bottom cheeks arched and rounded, like a young honeymoon bride trying to entice her boy-friend to their marriage-bed. The switch marked her with weals which were thin but well-raised and crimson.

I gave it to her harder still, the stable echoing to the sharp whip! smack! whip! of leather on her bare-bottomed smoothness. Several times I tested her with a cut across the backs of those nymph-like thighs, which made Tracey very wild and shrill. Her buttocks were well-patterned by the thin weals, the flank of her right hip streaked red from the flick of the little cord tail which curved round and caught her there.

I altered my angle so that now the switch fell short and the whipcord flicked between her buttocks causing havoc in Tracey's crack!

The girl was well-nigh swooning by the time I was satisfied with her. When I unfastened her, Tracey sank to her knees, weeping her thanks to me. As she knelt, her buttocks so bruised and wealed, Tracey began to unbutton me, drawing out my stiffness, sucking and swallowing the venom to show her gratitude.

Some days later I was in company with Master Miles and spoke of my service to the girl to save her from Mr. Bowler and the grooms.

"You are mistaken, my lord," said the old fellow, puzzled, "I was there when Tracey asked permission to visit you, entirely of her own accord. I assure you, there was no question of punishment. ... Mr. Bowler always attends to such matters himself. Always."

The scales fell from my eyes! Tracey had conceived a passion for me and had made up such a story in order to indulge it. Mr. Bowler had merely accorded her permission to visit me and enjoy the improving effects of Laura's conversation! She would endure the whip in order to enjoy the penis! Mr. Miles shook his head. He remembered stories of girls so in love with a man that they wished for the whip as well, in order to taste the full range of what he would do to them if he could.

More than ever, I wished to become possessor and protector of those girls under Mr. Bowlers roof. Imagine the fun I should have with Tracey, for my taste did not greatly run to trollops like Pat and Ange. Yet for their own sakes they would be better with me.

Accordingly, I made a suggestion to Mr. Bowler one day. He spends every winter in a warm clime with girls enough to please him. For a sum of money, I would be the magistrate who housed those left here during his absence. He might name his price. I thought, you see, that once having got them, I might easily defy him to remove them from me!

We were out riding at the time. Mr. Bowler turned the suggestion aside with a reference to "irregular procedures." And yet I could tell that the thought of it had gone deep with him!