till wine-red trickled. As Julie tried to force her screams through the covering hand, her tongue constantly licked and wetted his fingers as if in some lewd caress. They took her punishment far beyond anything which a reformatory would permit. At length, her head drooped. The fine-spun golden-blond hair broke from its little top-knot into a spreading veil. Half swooning under the bottom-punishment of the bamboo, Julie drooled through the fingers of the man who held his hand over her mouth. Even this, I believe, was done deliberately by the little minx to seduce him, for he made her take it back again. Indeed, now that the caning was over, Julie lay bottom-upwards over the ladder in the most abandoned manner. Her pert little bottom cheeks were in a sorry state and she writhed piteously.
And yet, Maude, this writhing was sly and passionate self-love. As she lay strapped over the ladder Julie's slender thighs squeezed herself to climax, finishing what the man's fingers had begun. She did it quite shamelessly in front of them, ending with those short hard cries which have only one cause. They did not bother to pull Julie's pants up. Where she was going, she would not need them. Another sack was brought. A gag was slipped into her mouth. Her wrists were pinioned behind her and her ankles bound. Now it was Julie who was tumbled in, arse- upwards, and the neck of the sack tied securely with a leather thong. A few minutes later the lights in the rooms went out and the four men emerged into the street. The two brawniest carried a sack each on their backs. Passers-by noticed only wrigglings and muffled mewings from the sacks, as if the two ruffians were disposing of unwanted kittens. The sacks were lowered into the luggage boot of the closed van. The lid was closed on the mewlings and squirmings and the van drove off. When I recovered my wits I found the door of my lodging had been unlocked as mysteriously as it was first fastened. Only upon my arrival home did my nerves give way at last. I was alternately distraught over the loss of Julie and then intrigued at the thought of being the harem master of two such girls.
The older women of the palace should prune Sian's randiness a little.
And how I would love to have Julie bottom-upwards over such a step-ladder! Yet I dare not breathe these thoughts to Dr. Raspail…
Your loving but prostrate cousin Augustus Anonymous Augustus and Lady Maude XV. Lady Maude to Augustus Lago di Garda, 11 July My dearest Augustus, Your letter this morning, with its account of the magical “disappearance” of Julie and Sian in the two sacks, lightened my heart a good deal. Of course you must feel “put out,” as they say, that your little bitch Julie has been made off with in such a manner.
All the same, the thought that the young whore Sian's bottom-cheeks are to be regularly whipped and salted by a stern master must give you some consolation. The hope which I draw from your letter is in the sensible attitude you show towards what has happened to Julie. Now do not pretend with me, Gussie, for I know you too well! Once they had Julie's skimpy little panties down, did you not enjoy watching some of the things they did to her? Of course you are dismayed at losing her.
But since you had lost her anyway, I believe it excited you a good deal to see her tanned and enjoyed by the men. In all this philosophy of yours towards her, I see you about to emerge as the man of sense and reason. Do let us hope so. Mr. Bowler paid us a brief visit here the other day on his way back to England. You know he has hired a grouse moor for the shooting in August-land in Kinross belonging to the Dowager Lady Lockie. In order to have everything prepared for his guests on the Glorious Twelfth when the first birds are slaughtered, it was necessary for him to return. I shall expect good reports of you from him. In your new frame of mind, I am sure you will want to hear of an amusing little adventure which occurred as Mr. Bowler was passing through. It relates to our little nymph Marit, the Scandinavian girl-student, who seems lovelier every day. I do not deceive myself in this at all. Though she is only fifteen as yet, Marit will be a calm and perfect beauty in a few years more. Her lightly suntanned face has the smoothest, the most velvety peachlike softness you could imagine. I see such perfection of shape as well, rather the form of a shield or a heart. Her nose is so pretty and short, her mouth full and beautiful but with the most elegant lips. You never saw blue eyes so open and steady, nor such silken tresses of brown hair worn just over her collar. I have maintained my system of requiring Marit to bend through the hatch for inspection each morning and evening. Even if it were not strictly necessary in the interests of morality, how could one resist the chance to pull down Marit's silky knickers and survey her narrow adolescent thighs, her slim hips and the almost elfin trimness of her bottom-cheeks? Sometimes I prefer that Miss Jones should carry out the investigation and sometimes I reserve Marit's charms for my own fondling and stroking. During the few days of Mr. Bowler's presence at the Villa Lola, I saw no reason to alter this arrangement.
I had mentioned something of it to him but, of course, he acted like a man of honour and respectability. Such dealings with Marit, he assured me, were women's work. As a worthy landowner or magistrate in England, as a most successful man of commerce, he entirely approved such moral supervision of our Norwegian beauty but it would be unseemly for him to take part in it. Matters remained like this until the evening before his departure. It was after dinner, at about nine o'clock, with the last rippling light of day fading from the lake, when young Marit bent herself as usual through the hatchway and its partition was lowered upon her back. The weather was so balmy, the eucalyptus and thyme so fragrant, that I had decided to take a stroll along the garden path under the pergola which enjoys a view across the lake towards Malcesine. A million fireflies danced in the warm twilight of the Gardonese, while the cicadas rasped among the flowers and shrubs.
I had deputed Miss Jones to deal with Marit. You may be sure that our almond-eyed young wriggler was only too glad of the chance to fondle another girl's nest instead of being always busy with her own!
Having walked almost out of sight, I became aware of Mr. Bowler's voice for he was talking to Miss Jones, having intercepted her before she reached the house. I moved closer and heard him inform her that no inspection of Marit need be carried out that evening. As master of the Villa Lola, and as Miss Jones's employer, his decision was absolute.
Miss Jones went off to play with herself somewhere nearby, for she gets a perverse thrill from doing it where the lads of the town may spy upon her and yearn in vain to supplant her busy fingers with something of their own! I thought that, since Mr. Bowler had decided to spare Marit her examination for that night, I had best go back and release the girl from her vigil at the hatchway. I had just reached the two windows, looking into the rooms on either side of the hatch, when I saw that Mr. Bowler had got there first. The rooms are almost at the level of cellars. Yet as the ground slopes away towards the lake, there are windows on one side, set high in their walls but only at the level of one's knees if one stands in the garden. Because of this and the darkness, it never occurred to Mr. Bowler that anyone might be looking upon him just then. Unlike you, Gussie, I had no idea in advance of watching our friend secretly. Indeed, I was about to tap at the window to draw his attention when I saw Mr. Bowler walk up behind Marit and fondle the tight denim-seat on her trim buttocks with undisguised affection. Before you censure him, dear cousin, consider the situation in which Mr. Bowler found himself. He was to leave for England by express train the next morning and whatever he did now would never be rumoured against him. Marit herself would never be able to say who the man was standing behind her, for the hatch was locked across her back and there was no way in which she could see.
In other words, Mr. Bowler might do whatever he wished, secure in the knowledge that he would be safe from the law, from scandal and even from the possibility of accusation by the nymph herself. All that must have counted as a strong persuasive. Then consider the temptation which Marit herself presented, though it was an innocent one on her part. The tight pants of washed pale blue denim shaped those narrow and almost fragile- looking thighs delectably. The rightly rounded elfin cheeks of Marit's bottom were parted by her posture and the rear way between her thighs was easily accessible. To undo her at the waist and take her pants down would be the work of a moment. Mr.
Bowler smiled to himself. He went back and bolted the door on the inside to prevent interruptions. Very gently he undid her and pulled the denim pants down and off. With her slim-legged look and narrow hips, the briefest panties were enough to cover Marit's most important areas. Mr. Bowler pulled them down and made her step out of them. He tucked them in his pocket and I believe they are destined for that formidable collection kept by Joshua Snook, our worthy neighbour and a most venerable justice of the bench. If so, Marit's knickers may prove to be the most diminutive of many pairs in his desk. Perhaps they will suggest her shape and character to the old gentleman as the larger cotton briefs remind him of his whipping of the fuller-cheeked bottoms of Pauline Cox or Kim Roberts at nineteen or twenty. Now Mr. Bowler paused to inspect the charms before him. His hands examined the young nymph's slim bare legs, for Marit's thighs are hardly thicker than the upper arm of a well-built coal-heaver or labouring man. Mr. Bowler's hand smoothed reassuringly up and down her agile flanks, then fondled the resilient young cheeks of Marit's bottom. He seemed almost content with her, but not quite. A brief stroking between her legs caused him to “tut-tut” and shake his head at the evident lascivious-ness of which she had been found guilty. There was nothing for it now but the severest reprimand. Indeed, how could this worthy justice, this pillar of
