been hard for them to resist the temptation. Anyone who has passed Mr. Bowler's premises and chanced to see this redheaded dollymop would have envied the men the fun they had with her. You have only to look at Sian, the short and straying plumes of her red hair over her forehead and on her collar, the sensual blue eyes, the slope of her cheekbones, the weak chin and the painted little mouth. If that does not reveal her character sufficiently, observe her dressed in white blouse and the tight fawn cotton of working-pants. She is not particularly tall and, though she must be twenty years old, her thighs are slim and the cheeks of her bottom trim and agile. When she is at her work, watch her bend to some task or other. How lewdly she does it, her legs astride a little, her rude little bottom rounded right out with its cheeks parted under the tight seat of her denim, for all the world as if she wished to display herself to the passing world like the most shameless and depraved young whore. Without more ado, three of the masked bravoes marched Sian into the other room where the man who was their leader sat in judgment on her. “Stand in front of me, Sian. Let me look at you. Are you truly such a warm-blooded young slut that no girl is safe in the same bed as you? In that case you must be taken somewhere where you can exercise your talents under supervision. Ah, I think you guess that you have had your last experience of being at liberty. Do you know what a price a girl of your trim figure and fair skin will fetch at auction-in the Arabian trade, where harem girls are bought and sold-” While he was talking to her, Sian's blue eyes with their darkened lashes growing wider in disbelief, one of the other men brought in a heavy step-ladder. “I do believe,” said the leader of the group, “you have one of the prettiest faces I have seen on a working-girl, Sian. I like the saucy way you keep your red hair short and curling over your collar. Turn round, Sian, and let me look at you from behind. A pair of round and firm young bottom-cheeks, Sian!
You're going to be whipped presently-those are the orders given us. It will help you to know that we have no power to spare you that punishment, even if we wished to. Go to the step-ladder and bend over it with your arms stretching down on the far side. The men will make you do it anyway, if you prefer to be forced.” The windows on both sides of the narrow lane were wide open in the warm midsummer night, so that I listened to him as if he spoke in the very room where I languished then. Two of the other men seized Sian and hauled the young redhead across to the heavy step-ladder. It was low enough for them to bend her forward tightly over its structure, so that the little platform at the top supported her young belly and her arms were drawn at full stretch down the far side. They pinioned her wrists to these supports and left her in this position. Sian was bending over the ladder much as one sees her when she stoops to some workaday chore. The short mop of her reddish hair fell in a disorder of lightly waved tresses. The beige denim of her working-jeans was tight on her slim thighs, hips and buttocks. How very trim and how very tightly rounded were the nubile cheeks of Sian's bottom! They undid the denim and pulled off her working-pants, while she mewed and squirmed vainly against the wooden steps of the ladder which held her. Sian's knickers were no more than the snug cotton briefs which one sees through the tight jeans-seat whenever Sian bends over to her shop-work. Being prudent though, they ran Sian's briefs under the tap, made a wad of them and packed her mouth with the dampened cotton to quell her shrillness. I could neither defend nor excuse the amusement they now had with her. And yet, Maude, words cannot describe the satisfaction I felt at seeing what they now did to her. She had designed an evening of pleasure with Julie at my expense-and now these fine fellows were going to make her pay the price! The first man stood behind Sian as she bent over the step-ladder, her wrists tied to prevent her straightening up, while the structure itself ensured that she could not twist or squirm out of range. He manualised her between the legs until, I swear, one could hear her slipperiness. You need have no pity for Sian. Even in her present predicament she lubricated as soon as a man's fingers stroked her! This hulking fellow unbuttoned himself with a contented sigh and eased a prodigious member between her slim legs from the rear. Sian needed no encouragement, despite the promise of the discipline which was later to be inflicted on her. To see the way she strained back with her hips, spread her thighs and rode up and down the shaft, you would have thought that the masked ruffian was Apollo and Casanova all in one. I promise you, Maude, that had you been able to see the way Sian bowed her mop of red hair, the manner in which she seemed almost to “do the splits” to accommodate her lover more deeply, you would see her for what she is.
He spared her nothing, nor did she ask him to. He took a jar of vaseline and spread it between the tightly rounded cheeks of Sian's bottom, as if it were the most natural caress in the world. I have no doubt that his employer had warned him of the dangers if Sian appeared on the slave-block with her white belly swollen up! For that reason, he adjusted the head of his ram to the tight dark bud between her rear cheeks and spent his passion deep in Sian's backside. I do assure you, my dear cousin, that I cared nothing for what harm or discomfort she might suffer from this. Indeed, my only fear was that Sian might escape harm and discomfort. When I thought of her lewdness with Julie, how she had been the seducer of the young nymph into the paths of Lesbos, I thought nothing too severe for her. During half an hour the wooden step-ladder creaked rhythmically under the thrusts of the ravisher, while Sian wriggled and writhed, moaned and shuddered, so that one scarcely knew whether she suffered torture or ecstasy!
At last the heavily built fellow who pressed upon her gave her a smack on the bare flank of her hip to prepare her for his spending.
Raking her thighs with his nails, he butted and jigged, pumping his copious flood into Sian's trim-cheeked young bottom. Do you suppose, Maude, that the young whore really believed he would spare her the whip because he had just enjoyed himself so much with her? It certainly seemed that Sian was under some such delusion. She still bent naked over the step-ladder, for the straps obliged her to. But now she turned her collar length of red tresses and looked back at the man with a doe-eyed expression of soft admiration at what he had done to her. The tendrils of the red hair brushed her brow, the blue eyes with their darkened lashes seemed wider still with desire, and the painted young mouth was parted lightly over the wad which filled it.
As if to excite him a little more, Sian moaned and whimpered, squirming against the wooden steps of the ladder and performing a lewdly enticing dance with her pert little bottom. I was glad-so very glad-to see that he was not deceived by this. Though he grinned at her, his amusement was of the vindictive kind. In his hand he held a length of whip-cord. It formed a loop as he held the two ends in his fist and so it dangled about two feet in length from his hand.
Sian was mewing urgently through her gag, no doubt reproaching her lover for so soon forgetting the intimate conjunction of her thighs with his manhood, her backside and his tool, which they had just enjoyed. The fellow paused, not out of reluctance but in order to tie several knots in the whip-cord so that she might feel the lashing with exceptional force where they hit her. It was the leader of the men, who had so far sat in his chair and watched Sian's adventure, who spoke to her next. “Bend right over the ladder, Sian! Tighter still! Your lover wants to whip you now. The tighter you bend and the better you behave, the sooner the thrashing will be over. I'm sure you're frightened, Sian. You're going to be hurt and, with a girl of your sort, the mere threat of that makes you squirm with fear. Very well, if you want a hard time, Sian, we are the men to give it you.”
Without further ado, he got up and went across to the step-ladder. He stood wide astride, forced Sian's head down between his legs and clamped his thighs on her neck. Then, as she bent so tightly over the ladder, he gripped her bare waist with his hands to hold her still for the flogger. The man with the whip-cord ran it under the tap so that it would hit harder by being wet. He teased the frantic young redhead by dangling the wet cord against her firm white buttocks-and even between them-making her heart swell with terror at the cold wet lash. When Sian tried to compress her bum-cheeks together, the other men who held her down were easily able to draw them apart. “You have such a pretty young bottom, Sian!” he said to her quietly. “No wonder the men who passed Mr. Bowler's window like to see you bending over to your work!” The man who had made love to her was less amiable now, hard and pitiless in his cruel desire.
The young bitch needs the whip!” he said savagely. “She shall learn obedience more easily with the cheeks of her arse well-skinned!”
He swung the whip-cord high and brought it down hard across the trim and tightly, rounded cheeks of Sian's bottom. Though they had gagged her, one knew that the strenuous sound trapped in her throat had the force of a scream. It would not, I suppose, be prudent to discuss my reactions to this scene with Dr. Raspail. And yet, Maude, I now began to learn a little about myself. I had thought beforehand that when the whipping began, I should be quite unmanned. I would be appalled at the cruelty, even to Sian, and would long for it to stop.
Perhaps it is a measure of the vindictiveness which I feel towards her that I experienced no such doubts! How urgently Sian tried to writhe her neat young hips and squirm her thighs! Fortunately the man who was holding her kept her hips straight so that Sian's backside faced her chastiser properly. The whip-cord smacked hard across her trim bare buttocks again, and then again. “You get a hundred strokes, Sian!” said the man who held her. “A loop of whipcord is only a little girl's punishment, so you must have plenty of it.” To judge from the shriek which Sian
