England's moral establishment do other than what he did? Mr. Bowler went to fetch the school spanking-strap. This device is cut from supple leather, being about two inches broad and eighteen inches long, divided into three flat tails at one end. Marit, of course, could see nothing of what he was doing, yet she must have guessed by the long pause that something of the sort lay in store for her. As she waited I shifted my position a little so that I looked through the next window which showed me her face and the upper part of her body through the hatchway. She is a beauty, Augustus! A real Venus in the making! I make no apology for descanting again on the calm loveliness of the smooth young face, the pretty little nose and that most delightful mouth with its fine young teeth. She twisted her head a little as Mr. Bowler felt her teasingly between her slender thighs and the brown tresses fell this way and that about her collar. Yet beauty at fifteen needs a regular spanking! So our friend-worthy gentleman that he is!- swung the heavy strap to and fro a little as he contemplated the bending nymph in all her nude desirability. Then he raised the tawse and smacked it down with passionate force upon the slim little cheeks of Mark's pretty bottom. Frantically the girl jammed one knee into the back of the other to contain the naked smart of leather across her bare buttocks.
A man of weaker character would have been deterred by the girl's wild cry at the scorching pain of the leather, or by the writhing of her slender legs. Not Mr. Bowler! He aimed the strap six times across her writhing thighs and hurt her so that now Marit screamed under the discipline. To spank her legs with the leather strap was not part of the punishment itself but merely the means used to make her keep still while the sentence was carried out. The strap now whacked and smacked across the demure young cheeks of the Norwegian girl's arse.
Marit squirmed and writhed over the shelf of the hatch like a pretty fish caught helplessly in a net. No blame, nor even the least reproach would ever attach to Mr. Bowler for what he did. For that reason he was exceptionally severe, his mouth tight and his eyes shining as he raised and thrashed the strap down with all his strength. Pretty Marit veiled as if her rump and belly were being impaled on a red-hot spit. One could see that her young bottom and thighs would appear superbly bruised the next day, in a manner almost unknown outside the English disciplinary system. With all his skill, born of experience as reformatory and penitentiary disciplinarian, Mr.
Bowler laid into the pretty little teaser! He paused presently and laid the strap down. It was time to examine his handiwork. His fingers tested the scarlet flush which covered Marit's buttocks and the upper part of her legs. How she thrust her hips out and eased her thighs apart a little for his fondling! See what a lascivious nature the little charmer has! She offered herself to his intimate fingering and seemed as if she would egg him on to do more. Here was the most interesting problem about her behaviour, Cussie. Marit had now been soundly smacked with the strap and was about to get some more.
Was she trying to divert Mr. Bowler to other things by offering the sweet little love-nest between her legs and even the tight little dimple of her arse for his consideration? Or had the tanning truly overcome all Marit's sense of shame and reserve, so that she was ready for anything which her chastiser wished to do to her? That question was not yet to be decided. Mr. Bowler stood back, smiled to himself, and raised the strap again. Though Marit's rear cheeks were already the colour of a pair of skinned tomatoes, he thrashed and thrashed and thrashed again with the wicked strap. How many bare-bottomed strokes would a strict teacher want to inflict upon Marit in the course of a classroom discipline? Would it be twenty, or forty, or fifty? I believe one must expect the number to be high because she is such a little charmer, so calmly beautiful, and yet so indifferent to her elders and betters. Whatever the number might be, I assure you that Mr. Bowler went far beyond it now! Not that I blame him, for one really wished to see Marit taught a lesson in obedience.
Beauty at fifteen, knowing herself to be beautiful, can often be a tiresome little creature and needs an experience of this sort to bring her to heel. I thought he would never have done with her! In the intervals of the tanning there was such gulping and sobbing from Marit, such brimming eyes and moues of self-pity. Then Mr. Bowler swung the strap again and her pretty mouth opened to its widest, most distended shape, Marit shrilled at the things which were being done to her. The strapping had caused her flushed rear cheeks to look somewhat swollen and indeed the outline of the strap appeared printed on them, sometimes across and sometimes slanting. But what was worse for the little charmer was when Mr. Bowler deliberately allowed the tails of the strap to curl between her slim legs, or in between the rounded little cheeks of Marit's adolescent bottom. I fear that he made her endure a few dozen of these intimate flickings before he was satisfied with the state of his girl-pupil. And then, Gussie, came the strangest part of all this. Mr. Bowler went out and came back with a collection of hat-boxes and other impedimenta from which he produced a complete outfit of new clothes for the girl. Nor would he permit her to be attended by a maid, for Mr. Bowler dressed her himself. While she bent through the hatch, he drew stockings up her legs and secured them with garters. Her crimson and swollen buttocks were now covered by French silk panties. Skirts and petticoat followed. Last of all the most charming little boots completed the picture. He summoned Miss Jones to finish off the toilette by adjusting the upper clothes.
By ten o'clock, Marit had overcome her tears and was dressed in the most coquettish little sailor-girl costume that ever a Princess of Wales aspired to. Yet all this was to a purpose. For now that she had been dressed so finely, Mr. Bowler proposed to take her visiting, and set off to pay a call upon the Signore, our most illustrious neighbour. It was a test of Marit's ladylike qualities and the determining of whether she was still a child at heart or already a woman. The difference, Gussie, is simple but significant. When a girl-child has been smacked with the strap as Marit had just been, she blemishes the best society by forlorn little whimperings and whining for several hours afterwards. If she is a young woman, she does her best to conceal the discomfort of her burning and strap-swollen bum-cheeks under an appearance of demure compliance with every command. So Marit was taken as a guest to the Signore's villa, where she acquitted herself as a young woman of fifteen. I understand that they were extremely exacting with her. Marit was required, as a matter of politeness, to sit bolt upright on a hard little chair with a coffee-cup in her hand and to answer with extreme politeness when spoken to by her elders. The Signore was quite bowled over by the little coquette-as who could fail to be? He asked a hundred questions about her, where she came from, who her family might be, whether she would be missed if some arrangement was made for the winter months to prevent her return to the cold northern climate. He required a recital of all the bad habits which she might have acquired upon her arrival at adolescence and all the disciplines she had received even as a very little girl. In short, his fascination with Marit was unqualified, though I hear that the girl herself went into a state of the most charming blushes at some of his inquiries and could not manage to utter a word in reply. In order that their private interrogation of her should not be overheard by the servants, they dismissed the two maids and required Marit herself to be their waitress. As she moved among them, skirts rustling and the silken stockinged legs whispering together, they continued to discuss her.
Perhaps it was the embarrassment of this, or the need to bathe her smarting bottom with cool water, or even a more mundane feminine consideration which then prompted Marit to withdraw to the tiled lavabo for a few minutes. Yet she had scarcely closed the bolt upon her solitude and begun to unhook her skirt when a door in the side-wall opened and the Signore with two of his bravoes entered.
You may be sure that her skirts and panties were soon removed without any effort on her own part and that she was in a moment lying on the marble table which ran along the wall. The Signore was not taken aback by the red strap-prints on her smarting buttocks, indeed they seemed only to inflame his own passion for her. He was a most solicitous adorer. His fine waxed moustache tickled her between her slim Nordic thighs while his lips browsed on the humid mossy folds of her young cunt. He gave her just a thrill-and something of a fright!-with his knob, not going too far in. Her slim thighs almost had to “do the splits” to accommodate him thus far. To have given Marit a baby so early in her life would have been inexcusable, yet it was necessary for her to feel the flood of passion inside her. The entrance between the young nymph's buttocks was so tight that only a very daredevil would have attempted it. Yet the Signore is a hero sans pareil! It required half an hour of his teasing pillow-talk, a little vaseline, smelling salts, and the most extreme yielding on the girl's part to accomplish this. He was a loving tyrant to her in this final act, for he guessed that there could be little pleasure for her.
At last he murmured gently, preparing her for the finale. “Keep your bottom quite still, mia bella! You shall have it now!” The brown tresses swept her collar as she turned her face in some alarm. There was no ecstasy for her on the first occasion, only a slight grimace of revulsion at the feeling of warm slipperiness squirting deep in her young bottom. I may tell you that young Marit's private diary, now in my possession, confirms all this. She was disgusted at the sensation and yet secretly flattered that it had been done to her by a man famous even in the schoolbooks of Scandinavia. You see, dear Gussie, the charming paradox of pleasure. Such a girl may admire or even love the man, while hating the submission she must make. Had it been other than the seed of a sublime poet which she carried in her young backside as she walked back to the Villa Lola with such cautious demure steps and her head modestly lowered, I daresay the entry in her private diary would have been greatly different. Mr. Bowler
