tried to emit at this promise, she did not consider it a little girl's punishment at all! With a sound of whip!… whip!… whip!… the man who thrashed her gave Sian twelve stinging cuts in quick succession round the tops of her thighs. Her knees bent under her and if she had not been supported by the ladder over which she lay, the young redhead would have collapsed on to the floor. “Give the young tart's backside a taste of the whip,” said the man who held her. “We must see Sian with one or two pretty trickles of red running down to the backs of her knees!” If the art of discipline is to have a girl like Sian trembling and mewing even before the whipping has properly begun, these two men were masters of the art. Though Sian twisted the mop of her red hair wildly, she was almost swooning with terror. The man whose sperm was still in her backside as evidence of his enjoyment of her now gave her the hundred strokes with the loop of whipcord. The one who held her rightly over the ladder spoke quietly to her, while Sian's screams were reduced to an urgent mewing by the wad in her mouth. “Such a fuss, Sian! Anyone might think it was the first time a girl of your kind had been whipped for her naughtiness!… You'll have your bare bottom thrashed often in the place you're going to, Sian… Sometimes as a punishment but quite often just for the enjoyment of the man who does it to you!… You must learn to give him a good time while he does it to you! Turn your face and look round at him while he whips you!… Lie over the sofa with your thighs open a little and the cheeks of your bottom parted to show him what he likes to see! You're a randy little bitch at most times, Sian. Anyone who passes the saddler's window can see that! You must learn to act like one under the lash!” The wet cord cracked like a ringmaster's whip across the tensing and twisting cheeks of Sian's bottom. She was now screaming into her wad with little respite, except when the man who held her was obliged to revive her with a smelling bottle to her nostrils. The young redhead's buttocks were a mass of loops and curlicues of the whip printed in raised and angry red. The man who held her pressed Sian's bottom-cheeks apart and encouraged his comrade. “Skin the little tart between her bum-cheeks! She needs a little whip to soften her insolence!” The other fellow needed no further encouragement to whip Sian intimately. You may be sure they taught this randy little shopgirl a lesson she was not likely to forget in a hurry. It was only during the most intense moments of the discipline that I realised the profoundly exciting effect this act of justice had upon me, Maude. It was such as is only proper in a physiological romance, not in a letter written by a gentleman to a young lady of rank. Yet it made any remorse for what was happening to Sian quite hypocritical and, indeed, absurd. They whipped and whipped her, until at last she lay limp and drooping over the step-ladder. Several red trickles ran down Sian's bottom-cheeks and the backs of her thighs. Though they unfastened her, it was only to gag her securely and strap her wrists behind her back as she stood at the centre of the room. One of the others brought in a large and stoutly made sack whose texture permitted air to penetrate. Sian's ankles were now pinioned as well. They lifted her, doubled her up, and deposited Sian arse- upwards in the sack. Then they tied its neck with stout cord and left her to mew and wriggle in vain. Next they brought Julie in from the other room. She still wore her white blouse and tight jeans-denim. Only then, Maude, was I fully aware of my ambivalent state of mind. I longed to possess Julie and yet I now saw the impossibility. A secret voice in my mind assured me that ever since I had seen her naked with Sian, I must have known that it was impossible. I guessed that Julie would be trussed up in a sack, as Sian already was. There would be a short journey to a private jetty, Julie gagged and her wrists strapped behind her to prevent any scandal. Two weeks in the locked cabin of a private yacht would bring her to an auction block, under the eyes of those who are connoisseurs of slave-girl beauty. When Julie and Sian were sold, the gates of their new master's Arabian palace would close upon them and would never open again. It almost seems to me, Maude, that I accepted the hopelessness of the case in order to enjoy what was done to Julie now. Can such things be? Perhaps it was a safety-valve within the mind's system which prevented me going stark mad with grief. I now began to see how greatly the men must be enjoying themselves with Julie and began to understand the matter from their point of view. The pert little blonde had put her hair up in its coquettish top-knot, just like a little girl going to a dancing class. Yet her rather sham young nose, the high but narrow arching of her brows and her darkened lashes made her such a sullen little miss! They made Julie bend forward, right over the step-ladder, her arms at full stretch down the far side and her wrists strapped to the supports. Another strap bound her ankles together to one of the wooden steps. On reflection I cannot truly blame the men for some of the things they did to her when I consider what a sight she presented. Julie wears her working-jeans tight and smooth as a skin, except where they form little sheaves of creases behind her knees and across the rear of her thighs. Without a blush she will present this tight-seated rear view to the public gaze when she stands with her back to the shop window. Under the smooth denim-seat she presents to the world an outline of what she wears underneath, next to her skin. The world sees that Julie's scandalous little panties are worse than no panties at all! They are worn like this to provoke rather than to conceal! You may be sure such garments tell one a good deal about her lascivious young nature and her wish to flaunt herself. So, my dear Maude, you will see that Julie herself was largely to blame for the effect which her appearance had on her captors as they made her bend forward tightly over the step-ladder.
“You dirty little bitch, Julie!” said one of them, smiling at the tight-cheeked seat of her jeans-denim and then turning to his companions, “Look at the tart's little backside! I think she's asking for it now, aren't you, Ju'?” Whether or not she was, Julie got it anyway! They undid her at the waist and removed both her working-denim and little briefs. There was some amusement about the skimpy panties that Julie wore and a suggestion was made that old Mr.
Justice Snook might like to add them to that extensive collection of knickers in his desk, all taken from girls chastised by the venerable gentleman. My own attention was now given to Julie herself, for she was naked from the waist down. With the flat belly and backward jut of the hips more proper in a girl of thirteen, Julie has pale thighs which seem scarcely thicker than a man's upper arm. There is a provoking little fatness or softness to her rear cheeks, which are still those of a much younger girl. “A sound thrashing with a reformatory cane is what you need, Ju',” said the leader of the men.
“Anyone who sees you walking through the streets or bending to your work must think that. Before you get it, there's something I must examine. Can you guess what it is, Julie? Ah, yes! I think you can!”
Easing his fingers between the rear of her slim and tensing cheeks he took Julie's soft and intimate puss-flesh in his fingers, running his thumb lightly over the pink folds of flesh while the girl flinched and shivered with extreme sensitivity. “Ah, someone has been playing with you this evening, haven't they, Ju'? Was it Sian? Or have you been making love to yourself on the sly?” Julie uttered a mewling and squalling resentment at this slur upon her maiden virtue. I conclude from everything I saw that Julie masturbates a good deal. Even the tight denim-pants rubbing between her legs all day must keep her constantly aroused. Small wonder that her hands are always touching herself in that area! Even when the man was merely fingering her to examine the state she was in, Julie could hardly control herself. She writhed her legs upon him and began to utter those hard and greedy little cries of a young female animal on heat.
At this he smiled again, drawing his hand from her. “We mustn't get you into bad habits, Julie! For the next fortnight, until you reach your destination, you must have your wrist-cuffs linked to a leather collar round your neck out of temptation's reach!” Julie gave another ill-natured squeal at this. But now the man was flexing in his hands a long and extremely supple bamboo cane. “You're asking to be flogged with the bamboo aren't you, Ju'? Bending over like that with those saucy little bottom-cheeks so lewdly parted!”
He touched the cane across her trim and well-spread buttocks, while Julie writhed hard against the wooden steps of the ladder. At first I thought she was squirming in panic. But then, Maude, I saw that she was squeezing herself hard and lasciviously between her slender thighs. The randy little bitch was trying to finish off what the man's fingers had begun! To think that I might have chosen such a girl as lady of the manor! The only place for Julie is as the slave of the most lecherous tyrant. Yet the scene I now witnessed was shrill and raw enough to tear my nerves this way and that so that I trembled fit to drop. The man touched the cane lightly across the tensing and rounding cheeks of Julie's bottom. He thrashed once and made her gasp with the searing smart. He aimed low across her fat little bottom-cheeks and brought the cane down with a report like a pistol-shot. Julie screamed and bucked frantically against the ladder and the restraints. “Now you get twelve low across your bottom, Julie, where it really hurts!” said the chastiser softly. The very air whooped with the thrash!… thrash!… thrash!… of the cane. Julie shrieked and writhed with good reason. Her pert little bottom bore some splendid raised weals of bamboo. Three of them had interlaced so cruelly that the first ruby droplet welled up and trickled down the back of her slender thigh. The other men congratulated the chastiser on this evidence of his skill. “Lay into the little bitch!” said one of them. “She's needed it for a long time! Teach her a lesson in manners!” You may be sure he did! At one moment her screams were so shrill that one of the other men held Julie's head and pressed his hand over her mouth. It must have been a rare sensual experience for this fellow to have his hand over her mouth-one finger between her lips-as the cane whipped and whipped across Julie's bottom-cheeks, raising thin blueberry weals and then thrashing these
