for serious faults. My lively companion, likewise, I could see, was much moved as she recalled the painful scene.
“And you, my dear girl-did you ever have to submit to such severe discipline?” I asked.
“Oh no, never!” she replied. “Extreme penalties were rarely imposed. All the time I was at the school, I only saw a maximum dose given once. As far as I am concerned, the whippings were inflicted by the lady who was at the head of the college, and I can evoke them as agreeable remembrances. Once, however, I was severely birched by the disciplinarian governess. I hasten to declare that I brought it on myself. I did all I could to be swished.”
“What, really, Miss Lucy?” I exclaimed, with surprise. “You sought to be scourged? How interesting! I should like to hear all about it.”
“I told you,” replied the charming young girl, “that I was always birched by the schoolmistress. She had a method of her own, handling the rod in a way which was more caressing than otherwise. It was no real punishment. Her birches were artistically arranged. They were curiosities, so to say. She made them up herself, with the greatest care. Choosing thin twigs among young birchen shoots, she filed down all rough ends and asperities. Then she polished them with white wax and chamois leather, to make them smooth and slippery.
“She forced me to strip and took me under her arm, my legs tickled by her rustling skirts. The feeling of her grasp on my bare skin, and the warmth of her under-garments thrilled me deliciously. When the birch waged war on my behind, I was transported with delight. This small elastic rod brought a rosy blush to my posteriors, but without ever lacerating my skin. It wsa like a series of pulsating vibrations; an electric douche, if you like, which, concluding by benumbing my bum, threw me into an exquisite nervous state, full of unappeased desire.”
“But how about the flogging governess?” I asked with some slight impatience. My amiable companion signed to me to be silent and listen to her.
“The directress was just off to spend a week away from home. Before leaving, she had given me one of her tantalising birchings, leaving me more unnerved than I had ever felt before. It was a stormy day, and when there is thunder in the air, my senses are always strangely stirred. Not satisfied with an ordinary beating, she had rubbed my inflamed globes with her soft hand. This had excited me so dreadfully that I yearned for some unknown relief. I knew something was wanting-some serious strokes from a heavy rod, applied by a firm hand. I had a notion how to obtain the flogging I wanted. I had but to gather some flowers in the garden, to be condemned to thirty cuts. In the absence of the head of the college, the flogging governess would have to accommodate me. I ws certain of getting all I wanted from her. So I hesitated no longer. The hour of punishment was nigh. I was sent almost at once to the whipping-room.
“I did not feel at all at my ease when I found myself a prisoner in the tenacious clutches of the two servants. They soon had me bound to the latter; my petticoats roughly pulled up. It was then that a great wave of shame broke over my entire being. I shut my eyes and tried to think that I was transported to the epoch when the Inquisition flourished, and that I was in the power of bloodthirsty tormentors. The big birch crashed noisily on my tender bottom. I clenched my teeth, determined not to sue for pity. I had nobody to blame but myself, and resolved to suffer in silence. The cruel female executioner hit out at me as hard as she could, as if taking revenge on my trembling bum for all the sweetness usually showered upon it by her employer.
“I was getting more than I required. I started to groan. I asked to be pardoned, but the severe governess, probably waiting for this sign of weakness, flogged me harder still, raising weals and crossing her cuts to make my rump bleed freely.
“When she let me go, I had had a surfeit, having got more than I had bargained for. My bottom was awfully torn, but I could only reproach my own self. Besides, pain soon left me, and there was a delightful reaction. My nerves were calmed, and a sensation of comfort filled my soul. This unique brutal birching, which made me tremble in acute agony, seems an agreeable adventure when I think of it now. It is an enchanting memory.”
“I should think, Lucy,” I said, “that you must miss these queer sensations greatly, now that you have left school?”
“I was not long before finding what I wished. One of my girl friends, who is as fond of birching as I am, lets me have satisfaction whenever I like. She has a lovely style of lashing. It's sweet and violent at the same time. She knows how to make me happy while pleasing herself as well. Unfortunately, she is away in the country for a couple of months.”
The colour mounted to this bewitching damsel's cheeks as she talked of all the voluptuousness she had enjoyed under the fire of the rod, and I began to think that it would be a novel pleasure for me to share my fun with Miss Rosey with this artless, fifteen-year-old maiden. I was quite certain that the lady cashier would be delighted at the idea.
I hardly dared explain my plan, when Lucy knowingly helped me, by deploring the annoying absence of her partner.
“Dear Miss Lucy,” said I, “I think I can manage to afford you your favourite pleasure while your little friend is away.”
“What on earth have you got into your head, my dear fellow?” she said, with a start of fright. “Do you think I'd let myself be birched by a man? Thank you!”
“No, no, Lucy!” I hurried to reply. “You don't understand me.”
Then I drew a vivid picture of Miss Rosey, assuring Miss Farman that my friend would perform the operation faultlessly and overwhelm her with all the delight the rod could bestow. I told of our coming meeting, describing our plans for the entrancing appointment, in glowing colours.
“Will you promise to leave me alone with this young woman?” asked Miss Lucy, anxiously.
I promised to obey her in every way, but she still hesitated.
“It's very tempting,” she sighed, “but I'm taking some risks. I don't know your young lady, and you-hardly at all!”
I did all I could to reassure her. I showed her my pocket-book, credentials and cheques. This ws subtle diplomacy on my part and gave her confidence. It was the American way of introducing oneself.
Nevertheless, she would not give me a direct answer. She wanted to thing things over. If she accepted, I should be sire to find her in the park, seated on the same bench, at the hour agreed upon for Thursday.
As soon as I reached home, I hastened to acquaint Miss Rosey with the good news.
“Try all you can not to let her bolt at the last moment,” said she, full of anticipatory delight. “I should be so disappointed! I'm already mad with joy at the thought of birching that innocent birdie. What a treat for me! But don't you think, sir,” she added with solemn archness, “that you'll get off any the easier. You'll be flogged worse than ever for having flirted with that dear child!”
CHAPTER XV
At last the long-expected Thursday arrived! The weather was lovely-warm and sunny. I had passed a troubled night, disturbed by creams of enchanting delight. There were no signs of recent corrections on the skin of my buttocks, and my imagination was seething to boiling point.
Miss Rosey seemed quite as excited as I was. She had taken great pains with her dress. She wore a tightly- fitting art-blue frock, trimmed with costly lace. She sported a pretty picture hat, cocked saucily on her front “frizzes', and her delicious little feet were encased in boots of Russian tan, as supple as Suede leather.
My adorable young female preceded me, having left the private hotel a few minutes before I did, and then, in a carriage, we drove to the park. We were not disappointed, for the graceful silhouette of my girlish companion soon appeared to us.
It did not take long to introduce the two girls to each other, and they were good friends at once. My first care was to take them to a first-class restaurant. I chose Bisleti's, where I knew I should find good cooking; sound, real French claret, and all the toothsome sweet dishes that please the weaker sex.
Our meal was gay and lively. We lingered long over it. Our veins were full of hot blood, and I know not who of the trio ws most excited and impatient to begin the sacred ceremonies.
Getting inot our vehicle, we made a stoppage at the house of Miss Rosey's married friend, who, as desired, had prepared the instruments of flagellation-rods and riding-whips. Miss Rosey, sprightly as a gazelle, leaped out to fetch the implements.
