Roughly, with brutally nervous movements, the young woman took me a few steps down the passage, and then sent me spinning into another room, deliberately bolting the door, which she hid by heavy hangings.
The floor of this chamber was covered with a soft carpet, and I could not help seeing a kind of post, breast- high. It was fixed in the middle of the room, and covered with velvet. At the top of it was a bright copper ring through which ran a silken cord, the end reaching to the ground.
“Strip!” exclaimed martial Miss Cora. “Wait a bit. You seem rather dull! I'll wake you up, my lad!”
I had just taken off my morning coat, and as she spoke, she gave me such a fearful stinger from her whip across the back of my waistcoat that I almost lost my footing.
Before I could utter a syllable, the cruel flogging lass threw herself upon me, and tore off the rest of my clothes with skilful strength quite uncommon in a woman. It was not without a throb of pleasure that I submitted to the strenuous efforts of the implacable and vigorous feminine fingers which impressed me with the power of petticoat tyranny. So, ready to endure any suffering Cora felt inclined to inflict, I offered her my naked body.
With a coquettish gesture, Cora flung off her delicate little shoes, and the whiteness of her tiny feet-like a pair of spotless doves-showed up gloriously enhanced by the dark red background of the Smyrna carpet.
She dragged off my shirt and undervest, and throwing me on the ground, trampled on me, as she seized a rod. Threatening me with it, she made me lay prostrate while she thrust her toes to my lips.
“Lick!” she shouted, and down came her rod with a loud crash, swishing my shrinking rump without the slightest idea of moderation, while my mouth feasted greedily on her exquisite pink and white pedal extremities, perfumed like some strange tropical flower and as agreeable to the taste as fruit from the gardens of paradise.
I writhed in agony under the fiery cuts of Cora's busy birch, and as, by the irregularity of my contortions, I let her foot escape from between my lips, she dealt me a startling blow, with renewed rage.
“I'll give you the whip, if you let my foot go again!” she exclaimed. “Take it entirely in your mouth!” she added, not ceasing to birch me rigorously while giving her orders.
Her delicious tiny toes-five rose-petals-passed beyond my lips to be sucked by my mouth and tickled by my tongue. Her foot half choked me, but I groaned with rapture, which the searing stripes of the painful birch were powerless to overcome.
My adorable charmer passed round to the other side of my body, so as to whip in the contrary direction, and she thrust out her other foot for me to kiss. I rolled on the carpet, unknowingly describing a circle in order to try and evade the awful blows of the sharp twigs. I took good heed, however, not to let Cora's exquisite wee toes escape from my clinging mouth. One devilish, white-hot stinger caused the tit-bit to slip from the touch of my tongue. My efforts to regain possession of the fairy foot were in vain, for the alert young female threw her rod away and fell back on the sofa.
I breathed freely, relieved at no longer experiencing the dreadful burning smart of the rode. I stretched my limbs, and contemplated my tormentress.
“How was it? Great, eh? Had a good time?” she asked roguishly, with a smile. “Lucky chap to have a free lunch off women's natty feet!”
Then suddenly rising, she grew serious again.
“Come here! Now, I'm going to whip you!” she said harshly.
I hardly understood her. For the last half-hour I had been writhing on the ground under the flaming cuts of her stinging birchen caresses and now she spoke as if only just about to begin flogging me!
I begged her to spare me. My praywers-alas! — only made her burst out with a long peal of silvery laughter.
“What a fool you are! Let you off?” she merrily said. “I haven't whipped you yet. I've only just started! Come along and make no fuss about it!” she picked up the silk cord, and tying my wrists, dragged me to the post, fixing my bound wrists to the ring at the top. I was captive by the arms and entirely at her mercy.
Cora's flowing robe, loose from top to bottom, had opened itself during our struggles, showing the treasures of her fair-skinned frame; her hard, white breasts tipped with pink buds; her flat polished ivory belly, finished off by the mysterious golden curls of her sexual fleece; and her perfectly-shaped legs terminating in a pair of adorable little feet, still moist from my hot servile kisses.
She rolled up her sleeves, pinning them to her shoulders. I could see her lovely, white, dimpled arms, while she seized the second, unused rod, and clutched me under her left arm. I felt a thrill of enjoyment by reason of the contact of her tepid skin, but my delight was quickly dispelled when such force that I started in real excruciating pain.
The rod hissed serpent-like through the air, and spreading out like a released steel spring, slashed deeply on both buttocks, as the torturing creature held me with her strong arm to prevent me moving.
With sonorous swishing sounds, the shower of blows fell on my aching posteriors. Unable to support the acute suffering, I began to groan.
“Yell, you devil!” she exclaimed. “I love to listen to men who howl! Louder! Louder!” with another outburst of hysterical merriment, she struck at me with all the strength she could muster, birching me with might and main. My backside, bruised and bleeding, seemed ablaze. I arched my trembling body beneath this frenzied assault, and all at once freed myself from the grip of her arm, turning half round.
She cast the rod from her. I heaved a sigh of relief.
“Don't holloa till you've out of the wood,” she said. “I've not done with you yet!”
Picking up her birch, she once more encircled my loins with her lovely, powerful arm. I almost swooned with delight when she lifted one leg from the folds of her open kimono, twisting her shapely lower limb round one of mine, so as to hold me tighter to her. And once again the biting birch resumed its diabolical dance all over my palpitating backside.
“Howl away1” she shrieked, noticing that I clenched my teeth, and was silent under the scalding shower of stinging stripes.
I wsa soon unable to restrain from yelling. My cries seemed to amuse her. Her nervous laughter rang through the room like the sound of some clarion of victory, as her nervous fingers never ceased brandishing the rod which rebounded from my scarlet rump like a sword-blade.
I made renewed despairing efforts to escape, but her arm and leg held me fast, tightening against my trembling body with a solid and delicious grip.
Cora at last grew tired. Throwing away her rod, worn to a jagged stump on my poor bottom, she thought fit to rest herself for a moment.
She now took the riding-whip. Forcing me to assume a bowed posture, masterful Cora stood a little way off. Lifting her weapon as if saluting with a fencing foil, she gave me about ten awful cuts in rapid succession. They were well-aimed, and so terribly painful on my bruised stern that I fell to the ground with a long shriek under the influence of such atrocious pain that I quivered all over.
When I left the fantastical temple of torture, my head whirled giddily. A thousand hot branding-irons seemed to have made my posterior hiss as if broiled.
This violent flagellation appeased my lustful longings for a several days. My raw rump needed rest. Such a vigorous birching had cut me to pieces. The most harm had arisen from the formidable lady's whip. It had raised a series of red weals, full of blood, and smartly pricking at the least touch.
I left New York for Chicago. As time went on, the energetic discipline of my yellow-haired birching beauty left naught in my brain but a voluptuous remembrance. Her luxurious comeliness; her authoritative disposition and inexorable manner were charming for me to think about.
I passed a week visiting the marvels of Chicago-its manufacturies and stockyards-until my lubricity was once more awakened by the goad of my secret yearning for flagellation.
I had discovered in a daily newspaper mystic advertisements, relating to “severe and special massage treatment,” emanating beyond a doubt from the radiant priestesses officiating at the altar of the occult religion of voluptuous flagellation, of which I had been afforded a foretaste by capricious Cora of the golden locks.
My wayward imagination, ever eager for the unknown, soon prompted me to try fresh experiments. I cut out and collected with care all the announcements that appeared in the press and seemed to relate to the rod, hoping, in my rambles round the crowded city to make interesting discoveries throughout the birching world, so attractive to me.
