bad ideas. But squelching them, she’d had a trying day. The quaint thing about Mabel was that, with a figure like that would have won any beauty contest, she was quite unaware of anything out of the way. She described the whole assembly as 'tits and twat'. I really think she’d be stymied if you mentioned nipples and pubes.
It was a triumphant return. I’d prayed the’d be on the terrace and sure enough they were. Dorinda pretty as a opicture in those glad rags I’d given her, but handcuffed and daintily sipping a martini. She grinned happily so I knew she’d survived the afternoon okay. Mark was viewing the two naked additions with an uncertain eye. I’m sure that he did not recognize a naked Mabel and for a minute wondered who on earth I’d picked up. But when he grasped the picture Mabel stole the whole show by coming out with a real diller I wouldn’t have thought she could have managed. Holding out her chained hands and with a beaming smile she advanced to the table and said: 'Dear Mr. Esmond. I am sorry. I’ve been a silly girl. Please forgive me.'
Amazing.
I got ten with the cane.
Dorinda is beautiful to whip. She is a dream come true. When the cane sinks into these lovely curves she has, there is an electric something that comes from her to me as though the cane had just joined two electrodes. In a sense, I suppose, that is what it does.
She is so right! I feel guilty about training her. If I wasn’t seeking perfection I’d let her talk me into stopping it. But syhe sees what I see. In her heart she knows there’s no other way to where we are going. She’s quite marvellous. In her time on the post with the cross under her arms, and it was quite a long time too. She often managed to talk to me as though nothing was happening. I know that’s not easy. Terry told me how she had felt when she hung there. She didn’t want to talk, just moan and plead with me to let her down. Poor little Terry. I couldn’t stand it and had to go away and leave her alone. Terry is beautiful too.
I’m very lucky.
The way Dorinda came to us out of the blue was a small miracle. If I live t0o be a hundred I’ll still remember my first sight of the lovely naked girl with her wirsts handcuffed behind her back walking up the road to the top of the hill, looking around her as thoigh in wonder at everything she saw.
She has a tremendous natural gift for accepting punishment. If it is not too long she will smile at me throughout. If it is more she will sort of share with me by small glances of apology. If she moans or screams – and she does both – she will catch my eye after wards and signal in some magic way she has that everything is okay and to please go on whipping her.
Terry is beautiful to whip too. But the two girls are different. Terry is the breath of early spring. Dorinda is a gorgeous day in June. Terry has always loved half her punishments, maybe all of them. She and I should have been twins; not that it matters. She is a magic child. And she is not jealous of Dorinda. Thank heaven for that. The little monkey has ideas about Dorinda herself. I won’t be too hard on them when they try and fox me. But about half the time I’ll trash both just to keep their nibbling within bounds. I don’t want Dorinda changed.
Do you think it terrible to whip a girl? Do you? I can only tell you to take your condemnation and go to blazes. If you have never whipped a girl you have never known her. Underneath every feminine facade there is someone quite wonderful that only the whip can release. The whip is a key to a magic door that most people never open.
Terry would be quite impossible of she was not caned frequently. Use a bit of judgement of course. But she is a bundle of mischief, a wicked little sprite who thinks up a hundred ways to twist me. I’m wise to most of them, even though she thinks I’m not. But I’m sure there are still a few she slips over on me. There’s always her tears, of course. They are mostly sure fire. But once in a while I’ll catch her out. She puts on a deliciously convincing act when she knows I’m really going to hurt her.
Dorinda weeps sweetly. Her tears are jewels. She tries hard not to cry. I think she is afraid of tears that are shed because of pain. You can watch her fighting them. They usually well up just after that time, which I suppose is pretty awful for a girl, shen she realises the pain is more than she can bear and that she is going to stop smiling and begin the little moans and gasps by which I know she is living intensly in the direction she has to go. Tears seems better suited to punishments other than the whip. I watched Dorinda cry while she was hanging on the bar. She was so exquisite it hurt. A poignancy of the heart.
I shall have to watch the two of them. They’ll plot against me and plan small ways to ‘manage’ the man in their lives. I think there is an element of wife in all females. Since the beginning wives had wheedled whatever they want out of their husbands. It had become an inborn instinct. They couldn’t stop if they tried. It’s their greatest challenge. Men held the line for centuries by keeping a whip or a cane around, and there where the scold’s bridles and the ducking stool. But now we’ve become so enlightened we wouldn’t dare say whip to a wife any more than we dare to shed blood for things we believe in, so they ride over us rough shod: the woman and the barnbarian! Our race is lost. But not on Kyrexos! I will have the most fulfilled women in the world.
The miracle of Dorinda has thrown a wrench into our plan. My plan. But Terry was all for it. She still is. But was for one girl. Now we have two. What in blazes am I going to do with Mabel?
I’ll admit young Terry got one up on me shen she came proudly marching home with Mabel more or less on a leash. I’m damn sute the little so and so thought she’d get off scot free as reward for her coupe. But allowing herslef to be released I had chained her was unforgivable. You can’t just let her get away with something like that. Obedience must be maintained. So I gave her ten of the best. Her teras were not so much from pain but from disappointment that she had not managed to slip me a twist. Ten swift ones are a bit much for her, even with a cane. She wasn’t happy with the last five at all.
You should have seen Maebl’s face! She watched the cane sinking into Terry’s bottom as though she did not believe a word of it. I think that anything Mabel learns here will have to be whipped into her lovely skin. If something does not conform to her idea of lower suburbia she just fails to comprehend. She has the most mervellous body. But she’ll never come near touching Dorinda.
Next day I started her training. I was stuck with her, so I had to do something. I took her down to the room. It went something like this: 'I want obedience from you, Mabel. If you don’t get it I’ll whip you until you do.'
'Fuck you!'
She was naked, her wirsts tightly handcuffed behind her back. I splatted a good one across her seat. She yelped and leaped away. I followed, catching her with the whippy crop wherever a bit of Mabel showed to advantage. She had nice skin. The marks were very satisfactory. We went round and round the room. She kept repeating over and over: 'You bastard… You bastard!' in between yelps. I’d have felt sorry for her if she hadn’t been so stupid. Finally she slowed a bit and muttered, 'Tell me what you want.'
'Kneel at my feet and kiss my shoes.'
Pretty stereotyped, I know. But simple.
She looked at me as though I was raving. 'Up your arse!' she suggested cordially.
She started to leap about again. But I’d had enough of that. I got her to the rope and had her arms up in a jiffy. She seemed surprised that I could handle her so easily. Then I stood at the winch and took her up an inch at the time. She bent further and further, watching me all the time with a sideways look of pure disbelief. I did not stop until her heels were in danger of leaving the floor.
'Here’s the drill. I’m going to cane your bottom. You’ll notice it’s nicely stuck out. Wehen it has had enough we’ll progress to other parts. You have several. I’ll cane slowly. When you feel cooperative you will ask for the next stroke and when it is delivered you will say ‘thank you’. Both in a pleasant and respectful tone.'
She did not answer. But the position was giving her food for thought. It also did wonderful things to her incredible torso.
I wrapped the cane round both cheecks. She went as wild as she could.
'How old are you, Mabel?'
'Tenty. one. Why? What’s it got to do with what you’re up to?'
I gave her one, lower down.
'Oh please, don’t! Stop it!' She was ordering me.
I gave number three well on the top. It was her best yelp yet.
'Don’t be so cruel, you seemed nice…'
I did not aim number four. Just let it go. She started to cry. If you stay impervious to tears they are a good sign. Number five brought a few gasping words. 'I’ll do what you want.'
'Do it then.' I gave number six.'
'Please whip me once more.' She shot it out like a bullet. Not a bit elegant. Besides, she had use the word ‘once’.
