had watched Maggie at her shopwork would have seen her summoned from it and led to a waiting vehicle which transported her to the estate on my orders. The young blonde was dressed as usual in the blouse and tight denim of her working costume. At first she thought the grooms were having a romp with her when they set her down in my stable-yard and seized her by the arms. Young Mag likes a rough and tumble with the boys and has even engaged in such sports with a young shopman before the eyes of the entire world. On this occasion, however, the grooms tussled with her until they had her standing between the shafts of a little garden carriage with her back to the driver's seat. The vehicle is little more than a toy. It occupies the driver alone and is designed to be pulled by a single two-legged filly. Imagine the fun which might be had if the rump between the shafts belonged to Jane Truman, or Tracey Hope. To accomplish this, two stout wooden bars have been riveted across the shafts, so that the girl standing with her back to the driver may be made to bend forward over the first bar-which supports her belly-while her wrists and leather collar are attached to rings set in the forward bar! Do you now begin to see what it was that I had in mind for our young blonde-our young pony-girl, as I might call her? My head groom is the most reliable fellow and he times these matters to perfection. The other two men naturally whispered into Maggie's ears the truth of the ordeal that she was about to suffer. Her lank fair hair flew as she twisted and squirmed in their arms. Those stocky young thighs writhed and her broad young hips surged. Fortunately they were easily able to twist her arms up behind her back, which forced her to bend forward to ease the racking ache.
Two stable-boys ran forward. The first of them slipped a broad harness strap round Maggie's waist-under her blouse and next to the bare skin. With this he fastened her very tightly on the rear bar across the shafts, obliging the stocky young blonde to bend over whether she wanted to or not. The second lad took each of her arms in turn and tightened the leather cuffs of the forward bar round her wrists. Mag was now in the posture which drew the attention of so many gentlemen to her as she laid out the polished saddles. Bending over with the curtains of lank flaxen hair hanging down, Maggie in her tightened jeans-denim presented the firm short length of her thighs and a pair of tautly rounded but fattened young buttocks. I must now confess my deceit, for which I trust your ladyship will forgive me. I had not gone ahead to the plantation but was watching the scene from a window overlooking the yard and opposite to that where Lord Augustus peeped. I could just see his outline behind the glass, a countenance so pale and anxious as he watched Maggie's predicament.
My accomplice in all this was Jewkes the gamekeeper. In his youth he was the hangman's apprentice and deputed for a year to flog naughty young ladies whom the magistrates had sentenced. He, it was, who was to be Maggie's driver. Though the firm features of her fair-skinned face are bold and a little crude, despite the softening of her blond fringe, it was evident that the young stable-lads were very stimulated by her. Even if she is twenty- three-years old and somewhat their elder, one could see that they wanted to do all manner of things inside Maggie's knickers. The grooms withdrew and left the two boys to prepare her. One of the lads drew the collar- length of Mag's blond hair into a pony-tail, so that her face could be seen, and fastened it like this with a black velvet bow. At the same time he whispered in her ear, grinning with pleasure at the randy promises of what would be done to her. The other lad undid her pants at the waist and drew them off with Maggie's knickers inside so that she was now bare from waist to heels as she bent over the two bars. Her underpants were no more than cotton briefs. The lad held up the young blonde's knickers in front of her face and teased her a little.
“A filly must have a proper bridle to complete her harness, Mag!”
You may imagine how she tried to twist her face away. But they wadded the cotton into her mouth, still warm from its contact with her hips and seat, her loins and cunt. It was secured by the leather bit between her teeth which was fastened firmly by laces tied at her nape.
Still it seemed that Maggie was getting off too lightly. One of the boys knelt behind her as she bent over the bars and eased open her robust pale thighs a little to smile upon the sight of the girl's warm and humid cunt-flesh. The other young spark pressed apart the firmly broadened pallor of Maggie's bottom-cheeks and grinned at what he saw between them. In all this they had a purpose. There is a certain pod which any young lady in the countryside dreads feeling in contact with her bare skin. She knows that the sharp little hairs of its seeds are impregnated with a maddening and virulent sting which will make her want to scratch and squirm without respite for several hours to come.
It is the plant known in the tropics as pica-pica but referred to in England by the more homely term of cow- itch! Brushed against a bare flank or bosom it creates a tormenting itch but applied to more intimate and sensitive areas of the female body its effects are unspeakable! At the sight of a well-filled pod in the hand of one boy, Maggie mewed violently through her wad and tried desperately to twist her hips aside. The boy grinned. “A good rub with this between your legs, Mag, to make you frisky!” Fortunately she had been very firmly strapped down and was unable to struggle much. The other boy held her round the legs to keep her steady. His partner coaxed the warm cunt-flesh back a little and then rubbed it gently with the virulent itch plant. Though Maggie strained and squirmed at once under the torture of the irritation, he took a second pod and rubbed her again between the legs. “And now some attention to your bottom, Maggie!” he said, teasing her to the point of desperation. There were two more pods. The first he rubbed thoroughly into the darker valley between Maggie's buttocks. As for the last, he poked its contents up her rear until it disappeared from sight and left her quite frantic. Nor was that all, for they were determined to turn the stocky young blonde into the most proper pony-girl. One of them produced a false ponytail of blond hair which was a match for Maggie's flaxen gold. At one end it was gathered into a thumb-sized leather butt. Ignoring any attempt at lubrication and the young woman's wadded shrillness, the lad inserted the leather butt firmly into Maggie's backside. The twist of hair was drawn tightly up between her rear cheeks, under the leather waist strap in the small of her back, and then rose in a graceful plume of a tail so that its ends swept to and fro across the top of her curved buttocks as she writhed. Now, my lady, picture the scene when Gamekeeper Jewkes entered the yard to drive his blond filly! Maggie was twisting her hips, squirming her thighs together, dancing and kicking as if she meant to overturn the equipage then and there. It is the kind of disobedience which no driver can permit from a filly, whether she be equine or human!
Jewkes flexed the long slim leather of the switch that he carried in his hands. “Bend right forward, Maggie, and keep perfectly still!” He did not know, of course, what the frolicsome lads had done to her. Personally, I was delighted to hear Mag given a command she could not possibly obey. “Keep your bottom still, you young slattern!” Maggie mewed desperately through the wad in her mouth but she could no more control her maddened squirming than she could fly. Her pale broadened hips twisted side to side and the blond ponytail rising from her bum-hole brushed to and fro across the bare spread of the young working-girl's backside. Jewkes's expression did not change. He walked across and stood just behind her, watching the writhings of the girl's stocky thighs and broadened hips. He took the plume of the false ponytail and tucked it under her waist-strap out of the way. Measuring the cold leather switch across her flinching buttocks, he gave the young blonde a long minute to imagine the agony of naked leather-discipline which she was about to feel across her bare rump. The stones of the yard sang to the smack of the whip across the pale sturdiness of Maggie's bottom-cheeks. A frenzied cry was just audible through the wad in her mouth and the short tail of her own blond hair swept to and fro across the back of her collar.
Jewkes thrashed her with the carefully measured strokes of a judicial whipping, impersonal and without pity for the hard-faced young blonde.
Maggie's firm and stocky young thighs squirmed together harder and faster, for all the world as if she sought relief by bringing herself to completion. “Keep your arse still, Maggie, you young bitch!” He found the most sensitive areas, high up on the backs of her thighs and low on the softer undercurve of Maggie's full buttocks. With great precision he raised six blueberry weals which interlaced cruelly. “I'll have obedience from you, Maggie, you young tart!” he said, almost laughing at her. “Keep that backside still!” He made the leather whip flash down again and again, so that it kissed Maggie's bottom-cheeks with streaks of agony. He even whipped her across the backs of her knees and then gave her a dozen stingers round her thighs. “Now your bottom, Maggie,” he said quietly, “Let's see how much more you can take before you decide to obey me and keep absolutely still!” What a contest it promised to be. I have no doubt that Jewkes must have seen Maggie at her work, bending lewdly in tight denim, or polishing on all fours with the jeans-seat taut and smooth over her sturdy young buttocks. I daresay most men who paused to admire such a view would have been implacable with her now. And so he was. He whipped and whipped with all the strength of his arm. At last Maggie's knees bent under her, though the straps held her over the bars. Her lank blond hair broke from its ponytail and fell about her face, as her head hung down. In tribute to the power of his discipline, the young window-dresser swooned arse-upwards over the bar. What a price many of her casual admirers would have paid for a keepsake portrait of her as she now appeared!
The gamekeeper withdrew and left the stable-lads to prepare her once more. Half a dozen of the boys came out. One of them held the little bottle to her nostrils. Each of the others, in turn, presented his unbuttoned stiffness
