'Watch closely now,' Effie repeated, seating herself in an armchair and lighting an extraordinarily long cheroot.
A curtain was drawn aside, but instead of a window a stage revealed itself and Olivia, uttering a cry of shock, curled up into a ball. The man who had taken its centre was dressed like the headmaster of a school, and in front of him sat four of the girls, appropriately decked out as his pupils. Olivia only just recognised Rita and her companions, now wearing knee length frocks, their hair in ringlets and faces chalked and rouged.
The girls were hard at work scribbling on their slates, until someone in the wings rang a bell and the headmaster briefly left the stage. No sooner had he left when the girl seated on the end rose from her bench and, taking up the chalk, executed a perfect outline of a hugely erect phallus. Olivia gasped in shock and shrank deeper into the sofa. The girl returned to her bench and again took up her slate. A few seconds later the headmaster returned and affected unconvincing horror at the obscenity drawn on the blackboard.
'And who is the author of this outrage?!' he roared, moving aside so that any audience present could not fail to notice it.
None of the girls spoke, but fidgeted nervously with their hair and tugged at the hems of their skirts. They did indeed give a very real impression of appearing terrified.
'If you do not own up I shall have no recourse but to flog every one of you!' the headmaster roared again, and he opened his desk drawer and laid a cane across its top. Then he folded his arms and waited for the culprit to declare herself.
Silence, and then greater shuffling of bottoms on the bench. 'What shall be done with them?' the headmaster asked, as if addressing an imaginary audience.
Olivia glanced first at Effie, and then at the other girls not taking part but who had come in unnoticed and were sitting around the room.
'Beat them,' Effie said coldly, and in her eyes Olivia saw a peculiar sparkle.
'What say you?' the headmaster asked, directing his gaze at Olivia, who visibly squirmed.
'Beat them,' she muttered, wondering just what sort of pantomime this was turning out to be.
'What did you say? Come, speak up.'
'Beat them,' she repeated in a louder voice which betrayed considerable reluctance.
'You heard,' he said to the girls. 'Now get yourselves over your desks.'
They all rose as one and bent over their respective desks, taking their weight on their arms and letting their heads fall forward in shame.
'You,' exclaimed the headmaster, pointing his cane at Olivia, 'step forward and assist me, if you please.'
Olivia swallowed. Surely he was not seriously suggesting that she carry out the punishment? She glanced quickly at Effie, who motioned her to the stage. Up she went and stood naked in front of the headmaster.
'Lift their skirts,' he ordered.
Olivia went behind them and did his bidding, folding their skirts neatly over their backs, revealing four pairs of red knickers, voluminous at the waist but gathered tightly at the knee just above their white, calf-length cotton stockings. That done, Olivia stood aside awaiting his next command, which to her great relief ordered her off the stage. Another girl quickly took her place, and with obvious relish slipped her fingers under the knickers of the nearest unfortunate and very slowly drew them downward.
Olivia watched in horror as the girl's buttocks came into view, then the length of her thighs. Her knickers were left caught around her knees while the girl undressing them moved on to the next. Soon four bare bottoms shone under the gas lamps, side by side, and touching at the hips.
'Twenty strokes apiece,' the headmaster announced. 'And on their bare bottoms. The first to cry out or soil herself will receive an extra six. I shall begin with you.' And he glared menacingly into the face of the nearest girl, whom Olivia could see was genuinely shaking.
Not for one moment did Olivia think that they would be caned for real, but as the first stroke sliced down she quickly altered her opinion.
The girl's head jolted and her right hand flew to her welted bottom. The girl beside her sobbed even though she had not yet been struck.
'Put your hand back where it was,' the headmaster ordered brusquely.
She put it back and the cane whistled into her flanks. Olivia heard her catch her breath and saw how tightly she gripped the edge of the desk. He lashed her again with his full strength, and the girl jolted forward bumping her knees, which had the onlookers rocking in their seats. The repeated strokes fell progressively downward, slashing the backs of her thighs and then by degrees, returning to her blazing bottom. When he had finished on the first he went quickly to the second, sweeping his arm with fearful whistles and landing the cane with the sickening sound that Olivia knew all too well.
'Ah ha!' he exclaimed joyfully. 'This wretch has wet herself!'
The girls in the audience craned their necks and Olivia, following their example, saw how the red material had indeed discoloured.
'You shall have another six after I have dealt with these other miserable offenders,' he announced brightly.
Olivia thought that very cruel, for the poor girl had not uttered a cry, but had borne her welts bravely with not even so much as a flinch.
The headmaster lashed the girl next to her, cutting into her thighs and cheeks like a madman. But to no avail; she neither wetted nor screamed - unlike the last, however.
What a weakling, Olivia thought as the first stroke brought forth a shriek. He lashed her again, slicing into the fat of her bottom just above the thigh. At that she tried to make her escape, which delighted the audience but had the headmaster positively seething. His left hand bore down on her back while he lashed her with the right. Her legs kicked out, and so he struck them for good measure, catching her across the backs of her stiffened calves, producing tears in her stockings, and going on until they were reduced to tatters.
'Let that be a lesson to you,' he said, somewhat out of breath, to the two girls who had not earned another six. 'Pull up your drawers and get back behind your desks.'
With groans of pain they reached behind and slowly obeyed, sliding their underwear up their thighs and deliberately stretching them over their burning bottoms.
'And now we return to you two miscreants,' he said to the two girls who did, in his considered opinion, deserve a further six strokes. He abandoned the cane and simultaneously took hold of their hair with both hands.
He lifted their heads and turned them around to display their tear-streaked faces to the audience. Olivia was astonished to see that it was Rita who had cried out so easily.
'Where shall they take their punishment?' he inquired of the audience.
Several suggestions were made, and he settled for the last. Upon his instruction Rita and her companion unbuttoned their fronts and drew aside the lapels of their dresses.
'Take them off?' he roared, and then suddenly ripped them clean down the front.
Their bare breasts fell forward, and without being told they placed their hands beneath them, lifting them upwards and at the same time squaring their shoulders.
'Turn and face each other,' he ordered, pushing them between the shoulder blades until their nipples touched.
Olivia stared with bated breath at the breasts now so close to one another the flesh pushed and squashed, making them appear larger than they were, and also presenting a target he couldn't fail to miss, especially as he had now exchanged the cane for a thick leather belt.
Olivia had never seen such artistry in the deliverance of a flogging. Each searing swipe was delivered at an angle, hitting the left breast of one and the right of the other, When he landed it vertically it caught them both across the nipples, which now had risen sharply and with the teats just touching.
'Stand still, you disgusting bitches,' he roared, and went on roaring, allowing his terms of address to get more filthy with every utterance.
He gave them a lot more than their allotted amount, and kept on hitting them until Olivia thought they would fai
nt dead away. He would have finished at the final lash, but changed his mind and told them to take off their knickers and stand only in their socks and shoes, facing each other, arms around their waists and hugging closely.
Effie leaned forward in her chair and watched with avid interest while he continued anew, belabouring their bottoms, thighs and calves. The girls' heads had slumped forward and were touching at their foreheads; indeed their bodies were touching all the way down, particularly at the belly and thighs. Every lash was carefully aimed to make them jolt and rub against each other, and very soon Olivia guessed the reason.
Far from screaming they were panting, blasting their hot, excited breath into open mouths and onto flushed cheeks. They managed, despite the distracting calls and equally aroused pants from the audience, to climax simultaneously, after which they did collapse into a tangled, gasping heap.
'Well?' Effie asked, seating herself beside Olivia. 'Do you think you could act as well as that?'
'Is this performed in public?' Olivia replied, watching Rita and her exhausted companion struggle to their feet.
'Not exactly, more in front of select audiences who pay very handsomely for the privilege, and usually in drawing rooms rather akin to the one in which you are now seated.'
'They pay handsomely to watch girls being whipped and showing their bottoms?' Olivia asked agog. 'But doesn't it hurt?'
'Not as a rule, unless they are invited to participate.'
Olivia thought for a moment. 'No, I meant for the actresses. It certainly looked real enough to me.'
Effie smiled to herself in the manner of an adult having difficulty explaining something to a small child and finding charm in its naivety. 'Of course it hurts; the skill lies in not minding that it does. Pleasurable pains, if you like.'
Olivia didn't like. She didn't like the idea at all.
'What else do you perform, apart from grown women dressed up like little girls and having their bottoms whipped?'
'Our repertoire is wide and varied,' Effie replied grandly. 'That display was as much for your benefit as for those taking part. It was, how shall I say, a dress rehearsal, learning the ropes.'
'And when will I learn my ropes?' Olivia asked.
'As soon as the stage is made ready, which will not be long. And if you perform well, which I have no doubt you will, you shall be given a fine set of clothes, a hot bath, and all the gin you can drink.'
With that Effie left her in the tender care of Rita, who seated herself on the sofa and put her arm lovingly around Olivia's shoulders.
'Effie's very kind to us girls,' she began, 'takes care of everythink, does Effie. We don't have to worry about nothink, all we have to do is act up for the genelman and give 'em wot they want,' and she gave Olivia a sly nudge of her elbow, as if that in itself made the situation crystal clear.
Olivia would have liked to interrogate Rita further on just exactly what it was the 'genelman' wanted, but instead found herself ushered into the room where all the costumes were stored, along with the 'props' as Rita called them.
She was not entirely surprised to see cupboards and drawers full of whips, chains, manacles, and costumes that had obviously been designed to display a woman's figure to the best advantage.
'This is pretty,' she remarked, holding up a costume that might have belonged to a young shepherdess.
She put on a straw hat and tied its pink ribbons under her chin.
'Lovely,' complimented Penny, a voluptuous redhead who was busy applying a dark coloured dye to her nipples, exaggerating their size, and producing a sort of shine on the pimpled areolae.
'You'll get your woolly flock disturbed all right,' laughed Dora, rubbing a darker dye into her pubic hair.
'All night, more like,' rejoined Penny, twisting and turning in front of a looking glass.
'Do you have real sheep on stage?' Olivia inquired, taking off the hat.
The girls stopped whatever they were doing and laughed uproariously.
'Only when we're asked,' said Dora, clutching her stomach, 'which ain't often, I'm happy to say.'
'Tush, tush, girls,' Rita interjected, herding them away from Olivia and leading her to a cupboard.
'You won't need to black up,' she said, running Olivia's raven hair through her fingers, 'or down there either by the looks of things,' and she ran her fingertips lightly over Olivia's pubic mound.
'What am I supposed to be?' she asked, seeing Penny and Dora fitting themselves with enormous black wigs. 'Conkerbines, you know, them wot lived in harems.'
Olivia was none the wiser, but stood erect while Rita passed a gleaming brass collar around her neck with a large ring at the front and a hasp behind which was fastened with a click. She passed a much larger band around her waist, again fitted with rings behind and in front.
'Hold your arms out,' said Rita, manacling Olivia's wrists with what frighteningly resembled the handcuffs she had worn in the van that had transported her to the House of Correction. A chain extending from the handcuffs was fed through the ring at the front of her waist and throat and pulled tight enough to draw her hands upwards until they stopped just beneath her breasts. Then Rita, with the assistance of Penny, manacled her ankles and fed another chain through the same waist ring, passed it beneath her legs, threaded it through the ring above her buttocks, and finally secured it at the nape of her neck. When it pulled taut the chain went into her slit and bottom-cleft, and Olivia suddenly took fright.
'Am I going to be hung up and flogged?' she asked fearfully, recalling her encounter with Flora in the mill.
'Flogged, maybe. Hung, definitely not,' said Rita, fastening more chains to the waist rings.
As Olivia let out a sigh of relief the door opened and behind her she heard the voice of a woman, rich and melodious, a smooth drawl whose resonance seemed to fill the room. Olivia turned. She had never seen a black woman and for a moment stared rudely at her, marvelling at the darkness of her skin. Without any hesitation the woman stripped off her clothes and went straightway to the cupboard, selecting various chains and an enormous wig that suited her naturally.
'Sappho,' said Rita, by way of an introduction, and having finished bedecking Olivia she went off to see how things were progressing on stage.
Olivia watched spellbound as Sappho broke into a splendid gyration of her buttocks, passing the chains under her legs, twisting her hips and swaying her breasts, and fastening the chains with lightning speed and agility. She left her hands free and, picking up a bottle of lavender oil, rubbed it all over body, particularly around her breasts, belly, and the dense mass of curls between her legs. When she had finished she shone like polished ebony, much to the obvious admiration of Penny and Dora.
'You new here?' Sappho asked Olivia, giving the bottle a fervent shake.
Olivia, replying that she was and forgetting that she was manacled, went to shake her hand. Sappho overlooked that and tipped the contents of the bottle over Olivia's chest. It ran between her breasts in a river, which Sappho caught and began greasing back up the cleft. Round and round her hand went, making the breasts gleam. She used the tip of her forefinger to polish the nipples and remarked favourably at the reaction. Her own nipples were huge in comparison, as were the orbs themselves, quite the largest Olivia had seen.
'Hand reared,' Sappho smirked, 'makes 'em bigger, and the buttons.'
Olivia found herself wondering how such an exotic personage came to be in a backstreet theatre in London, whereupon Sappho broke into an exciting narrative of how she had come over on a clipper as a plaything of the captain and crew and, because of her insatiable sexual appetite and energetic prowess in bed, had been set free and had been found wandering through the fog and rescued by none other than Effie herself. It seemed to Olivia that everyone in the place had been found wandering at some time or other, and likewise had been brought to this establishment.
'Did you really go to bed with all those men?' Olivia asked, as Sappho went behind her and proceeded to rub the oil into her buttoc
ks.
'I took 'em all on,' she replied in her husky voice whilst passing her broad palm under Olivia's legs.
'How many of them were there?'
'Thirty or so, but I couldn't take on more than twenty a day, 'cause the cap'n wanted 'em fresh for work.'
Olivia gathered her thoughts. 'How long were you at sea?'
'Sixty-five days in all.' And she tipped another dollop over Olivia's back.
'So that means you had...'
'About fifteen hundred cocks,' replied Sappho, saving her the effort of working it out for herself. 'Give or take a couple of hundred, I suppose.'
'Did they ever put it up your bottom?'
Sappho shrugged. 'Not that I recall, but I did take on two at once.' Seeing Olivia balk she added with a wide grin, 'they both shot me at the same time, and didn't I like that, God luv me!'
'And I suppose they put it in your mouth as well?'
'Not two at a time,' she laughed. 'I'm a one cock girl when it comes to that. Now come over here and let me chain you.'
She led the astonished Olivia to where Dora was putting the finishing touches to her nipples and lifted the chain dangling from her waist. This she fastened to the ring at Dora's rear, then as Penny went behind Olivia she repeated the performance, chaining them in line, bottom to belly. When Rita returned, announcing the stage was ready and waiting, she took her place at the front with Dora behind. Sappho fastened the chains, and then as if she had suddenly remembered an important task, went quickly to the cupboard and fetched a stick of chalk.
'Why are you writing numbers on our bottoms?' Olivia asked, beginning to feel rather like a beast at auction, and not realizing just how close she was to the truth.
''Cause I'm the only slave with her hands free.'
The Instruction of Olivia Page 12