"Ruki, they're here! Come down! They're here!"
She took her time - let them wait. Obedience, she thought, did not always have to be to parents.
It was a new Ruki who smiled at herself in the mirror, wondering at how strange and changed she felt. She was confident now of her strength to say no to this marriage. Without fear or guilt, and with a calmness that amazed her, she knew with certainty that she could stand and state her truth to her family, and to this man who had come to claim her:
I am not for claiming. I claim myself. Thank you, but no, thank you.
She was ready.
She stood up and took a deep breath, filling her lungs with new life. Placing her hands on her bottom, she gave her sore buttocks a reminding rub; her eyelids drooped in pleasure.
They were in the living-room as she came downstairs - she could hear her brothers laughing, and voices she didn't recognise.
Despite her determination that this marriage was not to be, however difficult the arguments, she was still curious to see Shazad. So when she entered the room and looked around, noting first an older man, presumably the uncle, and then the younger one himself, she was secretly pleased: he was really quite ugly! His nose was too large, his eyes set too close together; a beard failed to hide a history of acne and thick-lensed glasses gave him an owlish look. She was surprised at her parents' incompetence, and in fact (not that it mattered now) she felt vaguely insulted.
"Hello," she said brightly, stepping forward to shake the young man's hand. "I'm Ruki."
He beamed, a touch lasciviously, took her hand sweatily in his and held on to it. "Hello, Ruki," he said. "I'm Ahmed, Shazad's cousin." He turned towards the older man. "And this is my father, Mohammed Khan."
Ruki expertly hid her surprise - and disappointment - and was about to shake hands with the uncle when she heard her father at the door.
"Ah, Ruki, there you are." He frowned and gave her a nervous look but quickly put on a smile for his guests. "I've just been having a delightful conversation with Shazad. He's been telling me all about Sufism. He's very keen on meditation, and he made rather a strange confession."
The uncle cleared his throat, looking embarrassed. His accent was from the homeland. "Yes, I am very sorry, Mr Malik. He was having no right to trespass. I told him this morning ..."
"No, no! It's quite all right, Mr Khan." He turned to his daughter. "It seems he was so keen to get to know us, Ruki, that he spent last night meditating in our little temple!"
Ruki's look of horror went unnoticed because at that moment a tall man with long dark hair appeared in the doorway - as handsome a man as she thought she had ever seen.
"Yes," he said, lightly. "Forgive me. I like first to delve into the spirit of a place." He looked at Ruki. "Especially one which holds such promise."
"Aww," said Mrs Malik. "Do you hear that, Ruki? How romantic! Now, why don't we all ..."
"If you will excuse me, Mrs Malik," said Shazad with gentle grace, "I would like a private word with Rukhana before we go any further."
Everyone looked startled.
"Why... yes, of course..."
Stepping quickly over to Ruki, he took her by the elbow and guided her to the window at the far end of the room.
While Mr Malik tactfully covered the embarrassment of the moment by describing the origin of the temple, Ruki found herself gazing up into deep brown eyes whose clarity seemed to shine directly into her soul.
"I am told you are not happy," he said.
She gulped. All the certainty of her resistance had fled. A deep blush suffused her face, and she could do nothing but obey her desire to bathe helplessly in the warmth of those eyes.
Leaning forward, he whispered in her ear. "Don't be afraid. I understand," he said. "Two choices: I leave you here alone, or I help you with this." He took her hand.
She smiled, and turned to face her family.
The Grit in the Oyster
co-authored with Gail Fae
Any visitor to the Kings Public Library would see that Mrs. Kingston conformed to the stereotype of a head librarian: stiff, formal and prudish. But she harboured an element of lust that drove her to purchase a copy of The Oyster, a classic novel of Victorian erotica, from 'Ye Olde Collectors' Bookshop' for her own personal collection.
"It's the author's own copy, I can assure you!" the seller had promised. "I will also include some of the correspondence that she had with the publisher as she researched this work."
Its arrival by First Class mail caused Mrs. Kingston's pulse rate to soar. Glancing at the check-out desk to ensure it was covered by her staff, she took the parcel to her office, and impatiently ripped off the brown wrapping paper.
A quick flip through the book assured her that she was getting everything that she had paid for. With trembling fingers, she opened the envelope of correspondence between the author, one Cecile Clithero, and the publisher, Sir Randolph Henderson of Cambridge. Her eyes grew wider and wider as she read, and the region between her thighs became damp and aroused.
---oOo---
Letter 1: Cecile Clithero - Letter of introduction
Dear Sir,
As I embark on this journey to write my first novel, I am filled with trepidation at how little I know! To be sure, I have been at the receiving end of the cane, and on occasion the strap. I can speak to the effects of those two wicked implements, and indeed, to the pleasure and wonderful after-affects that a well-applied instrument can arouse in a young person. As a novice writer, I must confess to a degree of inexperience in handling the quill, and would like to avail myself of the vast knowledge and experience for which you are renowned in this regard.
I trust that you will be open to mentoring me through this exciting new endeavour. Given your expertise in this field, and my status as a novice writer, I am sure I can learn many stimulating techniques from such a practised hand. I can assure you that I will be receptive to any points you pass my way, and I will hasten to ensure that any passages I offer up to you flow easily and are pleasant to your senses.
Yours truly,
Cecile Clithero
---oOo---
Sir Randolph Henderson's Response:
My Dear Miss Clithero
I was charmed by your letter and am delighted to respond. I confess I was intrigued and am motivated in no small part by the certitude with which you disclosed your experience (and pleasure) under those wonderfully 'wicked' acquaintances, the cane and strap, of whom we appear to be equally enamoured.
Thank you for your generous supposition and acknowledgment of my scholarship in this field, and indeed for your assurance of a sensually satisfying fluency in your proffered passages. Any writer will attest to the fact that a well-lubricated passage can only enhance the pleasurable stimulation the reader obtains from the exchange of ideas. Indeed, the ease and pleasure with which a writer can drive his point home depends in large part on the fluency of the reader's receptivity.
As to the quill, it is indeed a mighty instrument: borrowed from what once flew, it inspires flight. A word of warning, however - the wielder of the quill is also subject to certain accompanying hazards, irritants in the form of nicks, stains and smudges; spillages, too - which can result in a brainchild of an unintended nature if the proper blotting material is not employed.
To conclude, I would be honoured to provide you with assistance of whatever nature you feel urged to call upon in order that your mind be opened to the insights you seek. Indeed, young lady, I commend you - you, a mere chick in the flagellant farmyard - for seeking this guidance from a wizened (though wise) cock such as I.
Yours, in anticipation,
Sir Randolph Henderson
---oOo---
Letter 2: Cecile Clithero - Rods
Dear Sir,
You have left me with little doubt that the way you exercise your quill would excite most female readers. The very nature of the quill does, however, carry the danger of a prick being received unintentionally, if not handled wi
th care. As you so cleverly noted, spillage, stains and smudges are indeed common occurrences when handling sensitive tools.
Now Sir, I would like to turn my attention to the matter of the writer's rod, with which I am sure you, as a male spanker, are intimately familiar. Having been only a recipient, I would like to draw on your experience in order that I can better write my own expositions.
I had heard that for effectiveness, it is neither length nor girth that is the most important factor, but rather the technique with which the rod is used to stimulate the target zone. Are you able to confirm this?
I also believe, from my own experience on the receiving end, that the timing of the strokes is of utmost importance. A regular rhythm can indeed bring out the desired exclamations from the recipient.
Finally, I would appreciate hearing your views on the length of the swing. My own experience shows that short strokes, when applied at the tail end of the experience, are most certainly capable of bringing the experience to a most timely end.
Once again, I thank you, Sir, for your indulgence and for sharing with me the experience you have had from a very different perspective to the one I am acquainted with.
Yours sincerely,
Cecile Clithero
PS. Sir, before it slips my mind, there was one other question I would value your input on. I recall walking past the headmaster's office one day, shortly after I had seen a delinquent exiting the said office rubbing what was most likely a very tender posterior,
The headmaster seemed to be very erect, and was rubbing his right hand lovingly up and down his rod while he grasped the other end lightly with the fingers of his left. In your opinion, is there any chance that this was a therapeutic action he was carrying out to reduce stress, or is it more likely that he was examining his rod to ensure that no serious damage had been inflicted on it carrying out its duty?
---oOo---
Sir Randolph Henderson’s Response:
Dear Miss Clithero,
Having just returned to Cambridge from my country estate, it is with considerable pleasure that I discover your correspondence, upon whose inquisitorial perorations I shall now endeavour to elucidate.
Starting with your latter enquiry concerning the headmaster whom you witnessed caressing his 'rod'. I confess myself somewhat bemused by the ambiguity of your deployment of the lexeme 'rod' in this context, finely poised though it was. Taking it first in the anatomical sense which seemed (somewhat shockingly I might add, from a member of the fair sex) implied, then the motions you observed would very likely have been, as you surmised, the unfortunate man's way of relieving some of the stress of his demanding role.
In the alternative sense of 'rod', then perhaps you simply witnessed a devotee's loving expression of gratitude to the implement that symbolised and effected his authority and control of his uppity young charges Yet I hardly think these are fitting matters for consideration upon which a young woman should be dwelling.
However, as you've intimated that you have yourself some experience on the receiving end of the hallowed rod, and that your motive is simply to perfect the crafting of your own fictions, I shall overlook any improprieties that might obtain and attempt, in a spirit of literary co-operation, an exposition of that noble craft upon which, let us not equivocate, the Empire (God rest her soul) was surely founded.
Whilst of course technique is indeed paramount in the effective deployment of the rod in, as you put it, 'stimulating the target zone' - whether that be arousing excitation or striping the miscreant (or both) - you are quite mistaken in your casual, if not complacent, dismissal of the importance of length and girth. Both of these measures are vital constituents in the nature of the recipient's experience: variations in their quality affect both how fulfilling and how long-lasting are the effects of that experience, which of course themselves may then be ascertained by how soon the recipient chooses to return for more.
Regarding the timing of strokes, I concur with your suggestion: a regular rhythm is generally accepted among Masters as being most efficacious. It is also more merciful, allowing the recipient some basis upon which to judge the likely progress of events (over which, of course, they have such little control) and thus to mediate their response, whether that consist of gasps and grunts of endurance or those of approaching bliss, or both (the 'desired exclamations' of which you spoke).
However, I must sound a note of caution: we must beware plumping solely for one method or another. Irregular strokes, strokes that catch by surprise, strokes that keep the recipient in a highly-charged state of uncertainty, may in some cases prove more effective in inducing those expressions of pained joy that are the end of our endeavour.
Finally we come to the knotty question of length of swing, and here scholars are divided. Arnold (1874), of course, famously advocated the use of maximum swing, whilst more recent commentator-practitioners (e.g. Bentley (1882) and Markham (1895) have leant more to the 'short strokes' school of thought which you yourself most interestingly suggested invariably leads to that 'most timely end'.
However, I must point out, dear lady, that your view is a most subjective one. In my experience strokes of varying lengths are required at different moments and in different contexts to ensure both that the experience culminates in the most satisfactory outcome for all concerned and that, of course, the lesson is properly learned.
On which note, I thank you for your most thoughtful and stimulating enquiries, whose tenor I applaud, being, as I took them to be, proffered in that spirit of open enquiry upon which all scholarship of a serious nature is founded. Moreover I feel sure you will agree that it is this foundation, this very seat upon which rest our hopes for happiness and progress, which should be the main focus of our attentions.
Finally, may I commend you once again on the finesse and subtlety with which you balanced the ambiguities of your enquiries: they were exquisitely poised between the complementary delights of fornication and flagellation.
I remain, Miss Clithero, your most honoured correspondent,
Sir Randolph Henderson
---oOo---
Letter 3: Cecile Clithero - Of Stimulation
Dear Sir,
I want to express my deep gratitude for the detailed and informative reply which you crafted in response to my previous query. However, I must admit to being puzzled by the element of ambiguity that you detected in my note to you. I was mortified at your implication that I was probing issues which bordered on the erotic. I am well aware that there is a school of psychology that teaches that there is often a lascivious subconscious thought influencing many of our more conscious thoughts and actions, but try as I might, I really couldn't find the evidence.
And it is on this thought of the erotic that I would now like to seek your guidance. I was wondering whether those of the female and male genders achieve similar levels of stimulation from the act of receiving chastisement?
Now, I can assure you, from my personal experience, that the humiliation a lady is subjected to during the pre-chastisement rituals can most certainly lead to a state of sexual excitement. This feeling of shame, and the subsequent arousal, is exacerbated when the said lady is forced to display this most private part of her anatomy during chastisement.
The stimulation received on the buttocks does, however, also cause physical stimulation to the pudenda, which is further evidenced during a spanking. It is the close proximity of the pudenda to the punishment area that allows the nerves to be stimulated in this way.
So my question, Sir, is: do young men have the same physical stimulation when they are treated to a sound whipping on their loins? I did try to research this by perusing back copies of The Pearl, and it became evident that both the recipients and the disciplinarians were subject to arousal, but I was not able to determine whether this was due to the psychological effects or physical stimulation.
I am looking forward eagerly to your enlightening response.
Fondly yours,
Cecile
---oOo---
Sir Randolph Henderson's Response:
Dear Cecile,
First, let me express my delight that you found my last response gratifying - I need hardly tell you, I hope, that your gratification is my gratification. Secondly, please accept my most profound apologies for my unseemly assumption that you were referring in your previous notes in any way to matters of an erotic nature, or in any way concerning the male anatomy. However, I would be remiss in my duty as a gentleman, and indeed a mentor, if I were not to issue here a small word of warning.
Should you find yourself in conversation with a member of the unfairer sex, you should exercise caution when employing words such as 'rod', 'erect', 'length' and 'girth' - whilst to you, of course, these are entirely innocent epithets, quite unrelated to any but the chastest semantic field, there will be others who may misinterpret these usages in a manner that could be quite upsetting to you. I would add, too, the word 'technique' and the phrase 'regular rhythm'. I would urge restraint, my dear, in future. The maintaining of your sweet innocence is my primary concern at all times.
And so to your latest enquiries concerning the noble art to which our adherence is so undying, and specifically to the fascinating question as to whether the young male is equally susceptible to feelings of erotic stimulation both before and during the act of chastisement as is the female.
Not being female, I regret I cannot give you a definitive answer. Indeed, perhaps this is a question we mortals are doomed forever to be obliged to accept as unanswerable. However, I can assure you, from personal experience on my part just as you have acknowledged yours, that we males do indeed respond in very similar ways. We too are subject to the sexually enlivening effects of pre-chastisement rituals, especially where they are related to the notion of punishment: the anticipation, humiliation, shame, the positions to be adopted, the helplessness, the ritual phrases bandied back and forth. And we are indeed, just as you are, capable of that same nerve stimulation due to the proximity of buttocks to genital organ.
Aunt Sarah's Slippering: and other short stories Page 3