by AnonYMous
Of her sullen young face and the sly hazel eyes he could see nothing.
However it was clear that she was staring at the four boys on the school side who had taken off their bathing drawers, in order to dress in their uniforms, and whose young pricks were freely displayed.
Colonel Randy brushed up his luxuriant moustaches and screwed the monocle more firmly in his eye. “By Gad!” he said loudly, “A damned little bunter spying on the school fellows! Is that the game, missy? Is it? What? What?” He walked up behind her and clapped his hands on her tightly clad backside. Elke, in her tender state, squirmed and mewed into her gag. Colonel Randy took this for lascivious writhing and moans of passion. The colonel, a builder of empire who had had much to do with native girls and uncontrolled lusts of primitive womanhood, chortled at this. He stared round quickly and believed himself to be unobserved. Looking in the girl's reticule he saw a card with her name, age, and address upon it.
Knowing something of my own military sympathies he evidently thought himself quite safe-when he saw that I was written down as her summer guardian! “Well, now, Elke Mahne!” He brushed up the ginger moustaches again, “A young hunter that must spy on boys' pricks and then whimpers with excitement when she's touched needs something more than a dame-school nagging! Eh? What?” He undid her pants again and drew them down, grinning hugely as he saw Elke's adolescent buttocks glowing hotter than the setting sun. He spat into his hands, rubbed them together, and gave a dozen ear-splitting smacks on those seductive rear orbs. For any girl, such a spanking would have stung hard. Poor Elke with her arse-cheeks smarting so dreadfully already, shrieked wildly into her gag. “I like a tart of sixteen with hot pants, Elke!” boomed the colonel. “From the look of those arse-halves, you're the sort of slut who likes to get a bottom-smacking! What?
What?” So the hero of Majuba Hill, and a dozen other conflicts, let fly. This time twelve lusty slaps on each of Elke Mahne's bottom-cheeks. Colonel Randy could see clearly the smarting arse of the Austrian girl and yet this somehow seemed only to stiffen his manhood. He stopped and, taking another look round to see that the coast was clear, he unbuttoned himself. “No sense lookin' a gift-horse in the mouth, m' dear!” he said, with his curious choice of metaphor. His sixty-year-old prick stood stiff enough for a man of twenty-five. He threaded it into her cunt from behind and pumped up into her vigorously. Like many a soldier of his rank, he regarded a girl as a filly to be ridden or driven by a man. He talked to her as if she was his restive mount, smacking her flanks from time to time, as he fucked her, in order to make her more amenable. If ever my plans materialise, Dolly, I shall invite Colonel Randy to be our guest. What choice of pleasure would he make? He will use one of the little garden carriages with a single seat for the driver. Elke Mahne with her jeans and panties stripped off will be harnessed bending between the shafts, one cross-bar supporting her belly and her wrists strapped to the forward one. Imagine Colonel Randy mounting and seeing her ripe sixteen-year-old bottom-cheeks facing up towards him!
Confronted by such a prospect, what man could resist a long carriage-drive through the grounds, from lunchtime until dinner? Smack goes the whip and round go the wheels! You may be sure that our “pony-girl” Elke would return in floods of tears, her cunt and arse well-plumbed and her young backside embroidered by the colonel's equestrian skill! On this occasion he was much milder, huffing and puffing as he roared towards his climax. Being a gentleman, he did not spend in the girl's cunt but drew his manhood out and allowed it to spout hot jets of gruel all over the scarlet soreness of Elke Mahne's bottom-cheeks and down the backs of her thighs. Scarcely had he done this when a sound of footsteps warned the gallant soldier that he was about to be discovered. Without waiting to pull up Elke's pants for her, he galloped off to the concealment of the cliff-path, stuffing his penis back into his trousers as he ran. Now, Dolly, you may feel that Colonel Randy is something less than a pattern of moral rectitude. But could you cast one single aspersion at that venerable old widow, Lady Loosely? She it was who now appeared on the scene in a long velvet dress, carrying her stole and lorgnettes. She saw the rear view of the fucked fraulein and gasped at the outrage of it. Not only was Elke spying on the boys as they changed out of their bathing drawers, the young whore had undressed herself and allowed a man to enjoy her from the rear at the same time! There could be no doubt of it. Lady Loosely, proud and upright, crossed the pebbles with firm tread and stood behind the culprit. “Slut!” she said, reading the card which the colonel had dropped close by, “Dirty little Austrian slut!” She was about to smack Elke's bottom hard and long but her hands touched a substance which had been foreign to her ladyship's life since her lamented husband died in the cunt of Maggie the Scrubber, the blond toast of Bridewell lock-up. Lady Loosely raised her lorgnettes to her eyes and examined the smarting, glowing cheeks of Elke's bottom, scrutinising the half-congealed spurts of gruel by which they were spangled. Her ladyship straightened up with a sniff. “Disgusting!” she said loudly, “You're a proper little whore, Elke Mahne! I shall go and ask Dr. Thwackum to come down here with his birch. But even he ought not to see you in so lewd a state of spent lust as this.” Taking her own handkerchief, Lady Loosely mopped over the adolescent girl's swollen bottom-cheeks and thighs, wiping carefully between her legs. She then used her hands to examine Elke's state with gentle fondling, stroking and touching. This inspection lasted for quite half an hour, even requiring her ladyship to insert one finger up Elke's cunt and another up her bottom. It was observed by my spies, Dolly, that the rate of the pulse in her ladyship's throat was almost twice the speed on her departure from the beach than it had been when she had first appeared there forty minutes earlier. At last the venerable beak-nosed figure of Dr. Thwackum arrived. In his hand was a severe birch, the kind made of three parallel switches of willow. He stood behind Elke and, it seemed, a trembling fit seized him. You may be sure it was outrage, Dolly, for anything else would be unthinkable in the case of this great moralist and public educator of the nation's leaders. He did not touch Elke but stood about two feet behind her. Bowing a little, no doubt with grief at such a lewd display, he clasped his hands before him, low down. From the back, my informants could not see exactly what the venerable doctor was doing. He seemed to be vigorously winding his watch-or perhaps polishing his cuffs-or even pumping his inhaler. Who would believe so upright a man to be a martyr to asthma? At last Dr. Thwackum seemed suddenly to overcome his moral grief at Elke's filthy conduct. He strained up abruptly and his hips arched forward a little. There was a long gasp and a shudder as the great man composed his mind once more. (My informants, by the way, apologised for an error. They thought Lady Loosely had mopped the sperm from Elke's bum-cheeks and thighs. Now they saw they were quite wrong. She was still spangled with it when Dr. Thwackum stepped aside.) He studied the state of Elke's bottom carefully and smiled quietly at the scarlet and smarting cheeks. There was no doubt that he intended to birch her without pity. Yet his position was, to say the least, equivocal. What repercussions might follow the birching of a girl on a public beach by the headmaster of one of our great public schools?
A frown of concern furrowed his noble brow for a moment longer.
And then Dr. Thwackum, Canon of Long Sarum, bared his teeth in a grin of triumph. He is not only one of our greatest moralists and educators, but also the most cunning devil who ever failed to win a Fellowship at All Souls. Can you guess what happened, Dolly?
Possess yourself in patience a few hours more. I shall write again by the next post. Your loving Jack.
SEVEN
A delicious comedy with Elke as its victim-Dr. Thwackum brings the well-fucked fraulein back.-His moral outrage at her conduct-The reverend gentleman offers Jack a service-He will birch Elke forthwith using a severity unknown outside our great public schools-Elke's bottom already untouchably sore-Bur she cannot reveal this truth without explaining why and earning worse punishment-Jack's great amusement at her predicament- Elke horsed and birched by Dr.
Thwackum-Her long ordeal-Prick first, birch later -Dr. Thwackum's nightly visits to her to be continued. Dearest Dolly, I would not willingly have left you in suspense. Yet my last letter was of such length and took almost the entire morning to compose.
Therefore I had to break off and attend to my duties here for several hours. This evening I find leisure to continue. As I have told you, Dr. Thwackum had devised in his subtle mind a scheme for enjoying Elke Mahne. It was a far more ambitious lechery than the mere pleasure of a single birching given summarily on the sea shore! He unfastened the girl, made her pull her pants up, and brought her back to me in his own carriage. You see? By comparison with all the others involved, was he not the great moralist? Elke was already in trouble for it was past eight in the evening and she was exactly two hours late. But imagine how my anger grew as she stood before my desk and Dr. Thwackum puffing his cigar in the leather chair told me the story. The little whore had been spying on the schoolboys, unable to take her eyes away for fear of losing a glimpse of penis! She had taken her own pants down and bent with them round her ankles-the easier to masturbate, no doubt, as she viewed each schoolboy's cock!
Indeed, said the reverend doctor, Elke had even stuffed her knickers in her mouth to stifle her cries of excitement. But worse than all this, she had indulged in great and extreme indecency. Some lad-perhaps even one of the doctor's own charges-had pumped his sperm over her at Elke's instigation. He had Lady Loosely's word for it.
Indeed, when Elke was stripped for the birch, as she surely would be, I might see with my own eyes. Happily, Dolly, I had already been privately informed of the afternoons events and this made the comedy all the riper. Elke Mahne stood before me, the high-boned prettiness of her sulky, heart-shaped young face lowered, the lank brown hair falling forward a little. She could not confess the truth of her conduct that afternoon. To do so would be to incur even worse punishment than that which already threatened. But unless she confessed the truth, she could not explain why, in the present state of her adolescent bottom, a birching would be the most appalling torture imaginable. “She must have her backside thrashed, sir!” said Dr. Thwackum from his chair. “Depend upon it, the slut must be thrashed.” I nodded. “To be sure she must, sir. Fifty strokes of the birch across her fat young bottom-cheeks-with her pants down!” “No!” It was Elke's wild beseeching cry which filled the room, “No! Oh, please! Not that! Not tonight! Tomorrow, if you like!
Whatever you like tomorrow! But not tonight! Not yet!” I knew quite well the cause of her wildness and truly relished her predicament. If there was one girl among them all who really deserved what was coming, it was an insolent ill-mannered young whore like Elke. “You will be birched tonight, Elke,” I said firmly, “It is absurd to think that we might postpone it until tomorrow. We do not carry forward our accounts. Perhaps there may be some other offence which causes you to be caned or whipped tomorrow. In that case, we could hardly birch you as well. Dr. Thwackum is quite right. You must be thrashed, and it shall be this evening.” Elke shook her head in wondering horror. It was Dr. Thwackum who intervened. “Permit me, sir. It would be presumptuous in me to offer advice in other circumstances. However, since 'twas I who discovered this young tart and saw the state of her debauchery, I trust you will allow me to speak. Ahem! I should esteem it a great privilege if you would permit me to deal with the fat-bottomed young bitch in this case. There is no man, sir, who can wield the birch with such effect as the headmaster of a great English school. There is none who has such intimate acquaintance with the bare and spread arse-cheeks-that is to say, posterior regions-of the nation's youth. I would venture to suggest that if left alone in the games room, with Elke Mahne horsed over the vaulting buck, I should inflict such chastisement as would leave her a changed girl by tomorrow morning!” I could not for a moment doubt his ardour and sincerity, Dolly. Indeed, had not the pedagogue held his top-hat over his lap, I fear the stiffness in the front of his pants must have caused some embarrassment to him. I thought for a moment. The fine old moralist had been trying for weeks to gain my consent to such a thing. He seemed determined to get to the bottoms of my girls one way or another. Why not let him have a go at Elke? It would at least remove the danger that I should find the arse-cheeks of my own red-haired maid, Sian, cut to ribbons. To tell the truth, I had no other plans for Elke. Let the good doctor see to her. “I should count it an honour, sir, to have your assistance in the matter,” said I. What else I would have said was overwhelmed, Dolly. For on hearing these first words, Elke Mahne shrieked with horror! Now, Dolly, you and I know how much of an actress such a girl can be. Not least when the dramatic tragedy is one which threatens a whipping in reality. Elke covered her face with her hands and let out the most piteous sobs. Yet even I could see that she was peeping slyly through her fingers to calculate the effect of this upon me and that the little bitch was quite dry-eyed! The large exercise-room next to my study is well-equipped with gymnastic devices and was in every respect an admirable place for Dr. Thwackum to practise his moral art. I may also tell you, in confidence, that by sliding a certain little panel across on my own side of the wall, a glass tile the size of a small window is uncovered. It appears to be part of the wall-glazing on the gymnastic side. However, when the bright overhead lights illuminate that side, and my own study remains in darkness, the glass tile affords me a perfect view of the antics in there. I had never intended it for the present purpose, of course, but merely to enjoy the sight of several delectable nymphs at their healthy exercise. Elke walked ahead of her chastiser into that place. Turning her bell of light brown hair from time to time as she walked, she shot him glances of outrage, fear, self-pity, and guile.
All in vain, for the venerable scholar had his gaze fixed upon the two softly moving cheeks under the tight jeans-denim. Once or twice as she looked back, the sly hazel eyes shed an easy tear over the high cheek-bones of her moodily pretty face. The pouting lips made little kissing movements of self-pity and then her mouth was drawn down like a tragic mime as they approached the padded leather vaulting-buck.
Dr. Thwackum locked the door so that they should not be interrupted. He took off his black coat and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. Then Elke was made to undo her jeans and take them off, also the stretched cotton briefs of her panties. Our stern moralist told her to mount astride the padded leather with her young arse almost jutting back over the rear end of it. He made her lie forward very tightly along it and strapped her wrists to the forelegs of the wooden structure, as far down them as the girl could reach. Pulling the hem of her black woollen singlet up to her ribs, he fastened the waist-belt round her bare skin. Last of all he had only to strap her ankles securely to the rear legs of the buck- and there she was.
Straddling the padded leather, thighs and bum-cheeks well parted, rump thrust back for his attention, Elke was perfectly positioned for what came next. As if about to join in some gymnastic exercise himself, the venerable headmaster stripped off his shirt, gaiters, and breeches, until he stood only in a cream woollen body-vest and short pants. His withered old shanks and slack belly were clearly evident.
Elke screwed up her pretty face and gave another dry-eyed and self-pitying little sob. Dr. Thwackum stood by her, the bulge in his woollen pants almost level with her face. Elke gave another questioning little whimper, forming her lips into a pout again but this time kissing the woollen bulge. “Please!” she murmured with an ingratiating little whine. Dr. Thwackum coloured a little, no doubt at this outrage to decency. Yet the gnarled old penis had a will of its own for it seemed to part the vent of his pants and stand out rigidly. Elke gave another soft pleading little whimper and touched her mouth to the empurpled knob. She moved her extended tongue in a light and rapid rhythm on the knob's underside, causing it to jerk with ecstasy. Even the strictest moralist is not always immovable. As if compelled by some exterior force, Dr. Thwackum took a step closer. Elke let out a long and grateful “Ahhhh!” She closed her mouth over the old man's prick and suc
ked up and down it for a moment.
Then she drew away for breath. “It is so good!” she gasped, “Oh, it is so good!” Now even Dr. Thwackum could not believe that a sixteen-year-old girl like Elke was truly driven mad with passion by being allowed to suck his venerable staff. To try and seduce her chastiser was merely the easiest way to escape his just vengeance. She sucked again, uttering frantic and almost frightened little sounds, as if she feared she might not be able to control her passion much longer. Indeed, her bare thighs were squeezing the padded leather buck in a lascivious tempo. Either she was a consummate actress or else the sighs of delight came from this masturbation-gallop and not from the aged penis in her mouth. Dr. Thwackum's lips were drawn back in a priapic frenzy from his clenched teeth as he felt the tide of sperm boiling up in his cods. He held the girl's head firmly and adjusted her movements to his own. One could see Elke's agile young tongue teasing and flicking the enraged cock. At last it was the fine old scholar who let out a long gasp. “Ah!” he whispered, “Now it comes! Oh, you fat-bottomed young whore, Elke Mahne! What have you done? Take it down your throat, you little vixen! Let not the world see a drop of this shameful act spilt on the floor!” And so he made her do it. Once or twice the Austrian girl made a sound of rebellion in her throat as he thrust too far, but at last the headmaster's warm yieldings had coursed down and been consumed. He stood for a moment and gathered his wits. Then he stroked the side of her face, smiling. “And now you shall have the birch, Elke. Ah, such cries! Did you think you would escape so easily?” He walked round behind her, only to see that Elke was still riding and squeezing the padded leather between her thighs. When Dr. Thwackum saw this disgraceful display, Dolly, you may be sure that he was truly outraged by it. He evidently thought that Elke was trying to do this while she was birched, in order to take her mind off the ordeal. The stern educator put one arm over her waist and slid the other hand under her legs where she had already made the leather so wet. “I don't allow such diversions as this when I flog!” he said sternly. “Finish yourself off quickly, Elke! It's time you had your taste of the birch.” Despite his appearance, Dr. Thwackum was well used to manualising girls, for what else did he do to my young maid Sian? By a few expert caresses he soon made Elke do it on his fingers and then watched her as she lay sighing and expiring. By wedging a cushion under her loins, he raised her spread hips high enough to prevent her being able to rub on the leather again. As he did this he saw between her well rounded and fattened buttocks the dark bud of Elke Mahne's arse-hole. His erudition in the matter of young backsides made it necessary for him to examine her there with his finger very carefully.