'What for?' said I.
'You promised to do everything I told you,' she repeated.
I knelt down awkwardly enough, with my hands fastened behind, just in front of the big couch. Then Mrs Harcourt took a large handkerchief and blindfolded me. I didn't like the look of things at all, but said nothing.
'Now,' said Mrs Harcourt to me as I knelt there helpless, 'you have been a very rude and dirty boy and you must be punished. Are you sorry?'
I was just about to answer when 'whish', something whistled through the air and I felt as if a hundred needles were pricking my bottom. I could not help an involuntary cry.
I heard a sigh of pleasure, and felt a hand on my neck, pressing me forward on to the couch.
'Are you sorry, eh?' she repeated, and again came the smart cut across my bottom.
I had never been birched in my life. At school a tanning cane was used, but I could easily guess what was the weapon she was using.
'Will you speak? Are you sorry?' she repeated, and again the rod descended. I tried to escape but my hands being tied hampered me, and though I could and did kick lustily, her hand on my neck managed to prevent me escaping altogether.
'Keep still,' she said, 'or I shall get Juliette to help me. Are you sorry?' At that moment in one of my struggles the birch just caught my balls, causing excruciating pain.
'Yes, oh yes,' I shouted.
'Will you ever do it again?' Whish - whish.
'No.'
'What was it you did? Confess your fault.'
Silence on my part. I felt too angry and ashamed to say.
'Will you confess?' Whish - whish - whish.
'Oh yes, I will.'
'Well, what was it?'
'I came in your mouth.'
'And what else?' Whish - 'what else?'
'I don't know.'
'Didn't you say you thought I wanted it?'
'Yes.'
'Well, confess then.'
'I said I thought you wanted it.'
'Ah!' and again the blows fell all over my bottom.
The burning pain got worse and I struggled and wriggled and kicked so that I at last got away from her, managed to rub the handkerchief away from my eyes and swung round and looked at her.
I never saw such a change in any woman. If she was pretty before, she was lovely now. Her eyes were shining, her cheeks were flushed, the exertion of plying the rod had caused one shoulder strap of her chemise to break and one breast was exposed.
I looked at her with adoring eyes. I couldn't help it. Angry and hurt as I was in my dignity and elsewhere, I could not but feel admiration and - yes, even affection. She met my eyes.
'Well,' she said, 'why have you turned round? I haven't finished yet.'
'Isn't that enough?' I said. 'I've said I'm sorry and confessed my fault.'
'Haven't you any other faults to confess?'
'No!'
She rang the bell.
I exclaimed, 'You're surely not going to let anyone see me like this?'
She made no reply and the door opened and Juliette appeared.
'Juliette, come here,' she said. 'You see this gentleman here; now repeat before him the accusation you whispered to me just now.'
Juliette looked at me with a malicious smile (I remembered that smile) and said, 'When I was hanging the gentleman's hat up in the hall, he offered to help me, and then he kissed me and felt my breast and tried to feel my pussy through my skirt.'
'You little cat,' I said.
'Is that true?' said Mrs Harcourt. 'Answer me,' and the birch fell across my thighs as I lay twisted on the couch. It flicked up my shirt-tail and exposed John Thomas to the salacious gaze of Juliette. I was too ashamed to speak.
'Will you answer me!' and again and again came the cutting strokes, one of them just catching poor John Thomas nicely.
'If I did, she did as much to me,' I muttered.
'Oh, indeed,' said Mrs Harcourt, as Juliette darted a vicious look at me. 'Well, we can investigate that later. Get the bands, Juliette.'
Juliette went to the case and produced a long band of webbing-working on a loop and, before I knew what she was about, had slipped it round my ankles and drawn it tight. Now I was indeed helpless.
'Now, Juliette,' said her mistress, 'as it was you who were insulted, it is only fair for you to punish him.'
They turned me over face downwards and turned up my shirt.
'He's had some already, I see,' said the maid.
'Yes, a little,' said the mistress. 'He can do with some more.'
'How many?' said Juliette, taking up the birch.
'We'll see.'
Then the pain began again. Blow after blow, cut after cut, until my poor bottom felt as if it was on fire. I wriggled as much as I could but couldn't do much. My motions, however, must have pleased Mrs Harcourt, for she said, 'Wait a moment, Juliette, we mustn't be too hard. He shall have some pleasure as well as pain.'
She got round to the other side of the couch, raised my head, which was buried in the cushions, and, bending down, whispered to me, 'He's a naughty boy, but I love him, so he can kiss me if he likes.'
She then pulled up her clothes and presented her pussy back-ways to me which I could just reach with my tongue.
'Now Juliette,' she said, 'not too hard, and cleverly.' I did not feel at all anxious to justify her wishes, but to my surprise the birch fell now in quite a different way. Instead of the slashing cuts which had made me writhe and smart, the blows simply warmed my bottom. Of course now and then it touched an extra sore place and made me flinch, but for the most part the twigs seemed to caress, and the tips of them, curling in between the cheeks, gave me a delightful sensation, and I felt John Thomas answering in a way that surprised me. I forgot my resentment against Mrs Harcourt and my tongue roamed about her lovely pussy and even went higher and caressed the other 'fair demesnes that there adjacent lay' and which presented themselves to my eyes, a proceeding which evidently pleased her, for she opened and shut the cheeks of her bottom, and at last with a quick side twist and a final plunge she forced her pussy right against my mouth. Murmuring, 'That will do Juliette,' she smothered my mouth and chin with her delicious cream.
She then got up and, with Juliette's aid, undid my bonds. I lay still, too excited to move. I felt her arm round my neck, while her other caressed my bottom. 'Poor boy,' she said, 'did it hurt very much?'
I turned round and kissed her. I couldn't help it. All my rage and feeling of insult seemed to have disappeared. 'That's right,' she said, nestling close to me. 'So the whipping did him good! It didn't go on too long though, I hope,' she added, quickly pulling up my shirt and looking at my John Thomas, who by this time, after the last part of the birching, was nearly bursting. 'No, that's all right. Come to me, darling.'
'But Juliette!' I said.
'Oh, never mind her... Still, perhaps she had better go,' she added with a peculiar look. 'Juliette, you can go, I shall want you in a quarter of an hour.'
Juliette looked very disappointed but left the room.
'Now, darling,' said her mistress, 'come to me and love me, and say you forgive your cruel mistress for hurting you.'
She unfastened the band of her petticoat and let it fall. Then she stepped out of it. Her tea-gown was wide open, and, as I have said, one shoulder of her chemise had broken, so she was practically naked to the waist.
She went to the chair again and sat down right on the edge, lying right back so that her bottom jutted just over the edge. I knelt before her and found her pussy was just at the right height for John Thomas.
Her legs went over my shoulders and I gently placed him in position and began work.
I have never known such an expert in the art of love. Every conceivable motion and twist of her body she used. Her eyes flickered with passion, her lips drew my tongue right into her mouth, while her hands led mine all over her body. She murmured words of love and desire, mingled with pity for my poor bottom. At last she said, 'He was a very naughty bo
y, but it was a shame to cut him up so badly. Never mind, someday perhaps he will have a chance to retaliate.' Then the final paroxysm came on and we were both dumb. My motions, which had been slow at first, grew quicker. She plunged and writhed, twisting her legs round my neck and raising her bottom to meet my strokes, until at last, with a half-sob, half-groan, her legs fell down from my shoulders and I poured into her eager womb a deluge of my love.
We remained motionless like that for a few moments, our lips glued together, our bodies held close to each other. Then Muriel said, 'Now I'd better ring for Juliette and towels and water.'
We got up and she pressed the bell. Juliette appeared. It was too late now for any modesty on my part. Juliette had seen all I had to show her, so what was the use of pretence?
'Hot water, towels and soap, Juliette,' said her mistress. The maid turned to go. 'Oh, yes, and some special cream for the poor bottom,' she added with a smile.
Juliette disappeared and her mistress turned to me and said, 'Let's look at the poor little bottie. Turn round - is it much cut up? Look for yourself.' She led me to a mirror fixed down on the wall. I looked over my shoulder. Certainly my poor bottom showed distinct marks of the birch. The skin had not been actually cut, but there were red and violet marks interlaced crisscross all over it. Also, it was very tender to the touch.
'Poor boy, what a shame,' said Muriel. 'Still, it will do him good and teach him not to be naughty again.'
I smiled a little ruefully. But she flung her arms round my neck and said, 'Oh, I love you, darling, every bit of you, and I love your poor dear bottom most of all.'
Juliette entered at this moment with a tray on which were a sponge, a silver rose-bowl, some soap and towels, and a pot of cream.
She put them on the table and her mistress turned to me. 'Juliette will wash you,' she said.
Juliette approached me. 'Will you stand here, sir, please,' she said, pointing near the table.
I did so. She took John Thomas in one hand and held the bowl in the other. Then she plunged him into the water, gently drawing the foreskin back while she gently rubbed the glans with her fingers. Then she put the bowl down and, taking the soap, soaped him well and sponged him thoroughly, washing all the bush and between my legs. Then she took the towel and thoroughly dried all the parts. 'Turn round, please.' I turned round. She lifted my shirt and performed a similar service to my bottom. Finally she took some of the cream and rubbed it on the tender places. A delicious cool feeling came over me and all the smarting disappeared. She then raised my trousers, buttoned them, and turned to her mistress.
'Madame is ready?'
'One moment, Juliette,' said the latter. 'Just now you accused Mr Prendergast of taking liberties with you and you punished him for it.'
'Yes, madame,' said Juliette.
'What was it you said he did?'
'He kissed me and felt my breast and tried to feel my pussy.'
'Quite so. Now Mr Prendergast did not deny that but he said something in reply. What was it?' Juliette turned pale. 'Answer me.' Still no reply. Muriel turned to me. 'What was it you said?' she asked.
'It doesn't matter,' I said, for now the pain of the whipping had passed away I did not feel revengeful. 'Never mind what I said.'
'But it does matter and I do mind. If I'm not mistaken you said she did as much to you. Am I right?'
I looked at Juliette. She gave me a frightened look. 'Muriel, dear,' I said, 'never mind that, forget it.'
'I'll forget it in due time,' she answered. 'Now, Juliette, answer me. What did you do? You know you had better speak the truth... When Mr Prendergast kissed you, did you kiss him back?'
'Yes,' in a whisper.
'Did you do anything else?'
Juliette glanced at me. 'I just patted his leg and said he was a naughty boy.'
'Oh, and what part of his trouser leg did you pat? Show me?' Juliette timidly patted me again. 'I thought so,' said Muriel sternly. 'I guessed as much. So you complained to me that Mr Prendergast kissed you and tried to feel your pussy, though you at the same time kissed him and tried to feel what he had. Well, you have punished him for his rudeness. Isn't it only fair that you should be punished too?'
I interposed. 'No, Muriel, it was my fault, I began it.'
'I'm glad you realise that, Cecil, it shows that your whipping did you some good. But I must be the judge of what is proper behaviour in my servants. There was no need for her to imitate you. Now, Juliette, don't you think as Mr Prendergast has been punished, it is only fair that you should be so too? Eh?'
'Yes, madame,' said the poor girl.
'You see you have only yourself to blame,' went on Muriel. 'If you had not told me what Mr Prendergast had done, I should have known nothing about it and you would have escaped. Now get ready.'
'What - before Mr Prendergast?' stammered Juliette.
'Of course. He was punished in front of you, in fact by you, so it's only fair that he should have a share in your punishment.'
The tears rose to Juliette's eyes as she began to undo her belt. The skirt slipped off to the floor. The petticoat followed it. She stepped out of them and stood in her chemise and drawers with downcast and blushing cheeks.
Muriel went to the case and took out a fresh birch. 'Go to the couch. Kneel down.'
Juliette rushed over to me and, flinging herself at my feet, sobbed out, 'Oh, sir, I'm so sorry I told on you. Don't let her whip me. I'm sorry I whipped you.'
I felt awkward. I was not naturally cruel and I did not bear the girl any grudge. At the same time I felt a keen desire to see her naked bottom and to see her wriggle under the birch.
I lifted her up and said I would do my best to persuade her mistress.
The latter was growing impatient. I went to her and begged her to let the girl off lightly. She laughed and said, 'All right, I'll stop when you tell me to.'
I then led Juliette, still weeping, to the couch. She knelt on the edge of it and buried her face in the cushions.
'Lift up your chemise and open your drawers,' ordered her mistress. She did as she was told, disclosing two white globes of which no lady need have been ashamed. A dark shadow just between them gave promise of a beautiful dark forest in front. As she was kneeling on the couch and not on the floor as I was, her bottom was raised higher than her head and the skin stretched quite tight.
'Now,' said her mistress, 'I'll teach you to tell tales of my guests when you yourself are equally guilty,' and whish-whish-whish came the birch on the plump cheeks. Juliette sobbed and cried and nervously contracted her bottom to meet the strokes.
'There, there, there, and there,' went on her mistress, 'will you kiss visitors in my hall again, and try and pat their privates? Will you? Will you?' The blows descended in quick succession, now on one cheek, now on the other.
Juliette bounded up and down, but did not, as I did, kick about. She knew better. At last two cuts more vigorous than the others and rather lower down were too much for her and in desperation she had to move her legs.
'Ah,' said Muriel exultantly, and quick as lightning she rained a shower of blows in between the thighs, reaching with the ends of the twigs the pouting lips of the pussy that Juliette's struggles disclosed.
Juliette shrieked and, letting her body collapse, tried to cover her poor bottom with her hands.
Muriel looked at me. Till then, for the life of me, I could not have interposed to stop the whipping, but now I managed to stammer, 'That will do,' and Muriel dropped the birch and fell into my arms.
John Thomas had grown greatly excited by the scene and, taking no thought of Juliette, who lay moaning and twisting on the couch, I pushed Muriel on her back beside her and mounted her. Our course was quicker than might have been expected, seeing that I had already done my duty twice that afternoon. I suppose the excitement of seeing Juliette birched and the heating effect of being birched myself had a great deal to do with it. Anyhow, Muriel and I both swam together in a perfect sea of bliss before many moments had passed.
Juliette, perceiving that her whipping was over and that other things were happening, sat up beside us and began to dry her eyes with her chemise.
Her mistress, noticing this, said, 'I'm afraid you can't feel Mr Prendergast's affair now, Juliette, it's too busy; but he can feel your pussy quite well,' and she took my hand and pushed it towards Juliette's thighs.
The latter did not dare to resist. I soon found the secret grotto I wanted and, pushing my fingers well in, gave her some slight gratification in return for her whipping.
When we had finished and had got up, Muriel said, 'You will have to wash Mr Prendergast again.'
'May I do it my own way?' said Juliette.
'If you like,' said her mistress, 'but I don't expect you'll get any good from it.'
To my surprise Juliette knelt down before me and began licking and sucking my limp weapon. But though John Thomas wept a little, I had done too much that afternoon to be able to give any real performance, and after a while she gave it up as a bad job and began to dress herself.
Muriel laughed and I felt a little ashamed, but I promised myself that before long Juliette should have a taste of my quality in more senses than one.
'Come again soon,' said Muriel, as she kissed me goodbye most lovingly, and I promised I would without fail.
As Juliette was showing me out, I said, 'If I kiss you now, will you tell your mistress?'
Her only answer was to put up her lips, and when my lips met hers she pushed her tongue right in my mouth while her hand clutched my old man convulsively.
'You tell her I've kissed you,' she murmured, 'and then she will make you whip me yourself. I'd love to be whipped by you. I'd suck and kiss you while you were doing it till you dropped the birch with faintness.'
Before I could reply she had opened the door and I found myself in the street.
When I reached home I tried to analyse my feelings and realise what had happened. I could barely believe it was true. It seemed like an impossible dream. Here was I, just down from Oxford, aged twenty-three, submitting to be whipped like a naughty boy on my bare bottom by a woman whom I had only met once, and in the presence of another girl whom I had never seen before I called on her mistress. More than that, I had poked and 'kissed' the mistress and had been 'kissed' by both mistress and maid. Still more, neither woman was a whore in the usually accepted sense of the word. The one was accepted as chaperone for the cousin of my best pal and evidently mixed in quite good society. The maid to all appearance was eminently respectable. No. I couldn't believe my own experience. It was only when I sat down to think things out that my sore bottom brought the truth palpably home to me. I jumped up with a cry and rushed upstairs to my bedroom, locked the door, and in a twinkling had my trousers down and was investigating my bottom in the looking-glass. Gad! but I was marked. Long lines of purple and red showed crisscrossed all over both cheeks, with here and there a spot of bright red where the buds on the birch had broken the skin. I got some ointment which I used for soreness after rowing and gave myself a liberal dose. Then I washed John Thomas, who was looking thoroughly ashamed of himself, dressed myself and went downstairs.
Eroticon Heat Page 5