“A very perfect young lady,” Mr. Raleigh declared at last, resting his hand possessively on my bare shoulder, and turning to my parents. “Perfect both from a medical and artistic standpoint. As an artist, I have seen many nude young ladies, but none so interesting as Lucille. I am sure I am going to enjoy being her guardian. All right, my dear, you may get dressed now,” he said to me.
Only too anxious to hide my naked body, I quickly put on my clothes. While I was doing this, he took out his checkbook and began to fill in a voucher. I couldn't help but feel that he was making out the purchase price for me.
“Shall we say a thousand dollars now, with the understanding that when more is needed you may borrow another thousand and continue in that manner till the amount reaches five thousand?” he said to Father, who nodded an eager agreement. And in that manner my sale to Mr. Raleigh was consummated.
While they were finishing this affair, Mother took me upstairs and helped me pack my clothes.
“You want to be a good girl and mind everything Mr. Raleigh tells you, Lucille,” she said to me. “He is being very good to us, and you must show your gratitude by being always obedient to him. Remember, he has your father's permission and mine too, to whip you, and if you are so ungrateful for what he has done for us as to disobey him, I hope he whips the behind off you.” With that sympathetic parting, I was turned unconditionally over to Mr. Raleigh as his “ward.”
He took me to his home that very night. It was eleven o'clock, which is quite late in the rural district, and all the servants at his home had retired. He showed me to a bedroom that had a door communicating into his. It was nicely furnished, but I hardly noticed that. I was frightened. Mr. Raleigh spoke very pleasantly to me, even using terms of endearment, yet still I was frightened.
And I had reasons to be, because after he had carried my luggage into the room, he went into his own bedroom and came back with a strap. “Lucille,” he said, seating himself on a chair, “you have a peculiar appeal to me. Ever since I first learned that your parents whipped you, I have experienced a desire to give you one myself. And tonight, after seeing you naked, I am more anxious than ever to do it. So, since your parents approve of me doing it-as I'm sure you heard them say-I am going to whip you tonight. And I am going to do it in what I consider the most interesting manner, which is-stark naked. It will do you good, for it will let you know in advance exactly what you may expect as my ward when you are naughty. Besides, it will teach you to be submissive to me, which is something you must display at all times, no matter what your personal views may be. Now then, take off your clothes.”
As he spoke, I had an instinctive, terrified urge to flee from the house. But where? My parents had turned me over to him; I couldn't go back to them. I knew if I attempted it, they'd only whip me severely and turn me over to him again. There seemed nothing left except to obey his commands.
“Hurry,” he commanded, his voice stern as he waved the strap at me. “I'll not stand for any hesitation when you are told to get undressed or given any other order. You must learn that when I speak, you are to obey promptly, not wait till it suits your own convenience.” Trembling at the sight of the strap in his hand and knowing that it was soon to be used to give me a whipping, I removed by shoes and stockings, then my dress and slip; finally, unable to delay complete nudity any longer, I took off my brassiere and slipped down my step-ins.
CHAPTER 4: IN HIS POWER
Naked and frightened, my face red with the shame of being stark naked for the first time in a man's presence alone-at least, before, my parents had been there to protect me, scant though their moral aid had been-I stood in the middle of the room awaiting Mr. Raleigh's next command. I thought he would command me to lie down over his knees or bend over under his left arm, as these were the poses my parents always made me assume when I was whipped in the woodshed. But instead, Mr. Raleigh arose from the chair and came over to me. Grabbing me by the ear, he smacked me across the bottom with the strap and started me across the room to another chair.
It was more like a stool than a chair. It had a heavy cushioned seat and heavy wooden arms. There was no back to it. He made me kneel upon it on my hands and knees. Then, taking four pieces of heavy cord from his pocket, he tied my wrists to the sides of the chair, and then my legs. Instead of starting immediately to whip me, he walked completely around the chair, appraising me from all angles. Being tied up helplessly, I could not resist nor did I think it wise to protest. All the charms of my body were very much on display, and he slapped and pinched me annoyingly with his pain-inflicting hands.
“You have a most attractive backside, my dear,” he finally said. “I am sure it is going to look exceedingly interesting after it has been properly colored up with the strap. We shall see if I am correct.”
As he spoke the last words, he raised the strap and brought it down sharply across my bottom. It was even more sternly given than when I was whipped by my father. I cried out shrilly.
“Remain quiet, my dear,” he ordered. “This behind of yours is going to be whipped, and if you try screaming you will only be attracting the attention of the servants. If you care to have them come and see you tied up naked and being whipped, then just continue to yell. But if you are a wise girl, you will content yourself with sobs and crying.”
That caused me to control my cries, but it was difficult. For the strap rose and fell with stinging force. No smarting my father had even given my bottom equaled it. Mr. Raleigh seemed very adroit in administering a whipping, for each crack of the whip landed just slightly above the spot where the previous one had fallen. I tried to twist and control my hind quarters, for the steady cracks of the strap were outraging the nerves. But with my knees tied to the sides, I could not move a muscle. All I could do was kneel there helplessly, with my rear end projected at the correct angle to receive the full force of every smarting smack he laid on it.
While whipping me, he scolded me, telling me that I was impudent and disobedient, but that I would be an entirely different girl when he got through whipping me. He also told me that I had a very pretty bottom and he was going to enjoy giving it many whippings in the future, so I had better be careful not to give him the least excuse, for he would never lose any time in tying me up and whipping me.
I thought the whipping would never end. Although acutely aware of my nakedness and my helplessness to prevent him from taking any painful spanking liberties he wished, I could not divert my mind from the steady smacking of the whip across my bottom. It grew warmer and warmer until it felt as though blisters were being raised all over the twin cheeks. Tears streamed down my face and I had to bite my lips to hold back the cries of pain. “Oh, please stop, Mr. Raleigh,” I pleaded. “I'll always be obedient to you in the future. I'll always do whatever you tell me. You've taught me to be meek and demure. Please don't whip me any more.”
To my utter dismay, he administered several more cracks without saying a word, drawing new sobs and pleas from me as I twisted and jerked on my chair of suffering. Then, suddenly, he stopped. But instead of untying me, he walked around the chair and stood in front of me. He sat the strap across my bare back, then tilted up my head with one hand.
“So our little girl with the pretty spanked bottom has been crying,” he exclaimed, with a twisted smile. “Are they tears of regret for the disobedience you have shown, or just tears from the smarting your behind has gotten?”
“You whipped me awfully hard,” I replied between sobs, shivering in fear that he might continue the thrashing and also in my terrible embarrassment that I was tied naked and helpless before him, to look at me or do anything else he wanted.
“But naughty girls deserve to be whipped severely,” he declared. “Of course, you haven't been a naughty girl yet, but a good whipping in advance will sometimes keep young girls from doing things they shouldn't. You know the old adage, a spanking in time makes better girls. So I have given you this whipping to make you learn that you must do whatever I tell you and not disobey any orders in the future.”
“But I intend to obey you, Mr. Raleigh,” I replied tearfully.
“Then you know that you have been whipped for your own good?” he said.
“Yes, sir,” I sobbed. I had been whipped so severely, and was so vividly aware of the strap dangling across my bare back and within such easy reach of his hand, that I dared not say anything else.
“Then you should be grateful for it,” he said.
“I am,” I told him, trembling violently over my shame and pain, able to see all my naked body.
“You can kiss me to prove it,” was his next order. Bending to me, he pressed his lips to mine. It was terribly
