“Wilhelmina Ponsonby,” was the answer.
I must confess that this discovery gave me quite a turn, from finding a Will transfigured into a Wilhelmina before my very eyes. My eyes fixed on the camisole and on the two pert, firm swellings which I know knew were titties and not the chest of a boy. Alice, behind the captive, facing me, winked and made a gesture. My pulses began to throb quickly. And why not indeed? Decidedly, this charming little thief who had added impersonation to her other follies was in need of a good lesson if she wished to earn her three pounds. I would not be brutal with her, but I was not yet convinced that she was telling the entire truth about the sick aunt.
“Very well, Wilhelmina,” I finally decided. “You may keep the three pounds and I will say nothing to Mr. Willoughby. But in return, you must be birched, and properly. That is to say, your breeches must be taken down and you must receive the withes on the bare bottom!”
“Oh no! Oh heavens! I would die of shame, sir-Oh for God’s sake, don’t do that to me!” the young woman wailed and tried to tug at her bound wrists.
“I am afraid you have no choice, Wilhelmina. It is that or having my fiancee fetch the constable at once,” I said inflexibly. And then I attacked the buttons of the breeches, and began to drag them down, while the slim captive struggled and screamed and pleaded with me not to shame her thus.
But a perverse kind of sensual excitement had taken hold of me-to which of course I could attribute my erotic state of knowing that my beloved Alice was at last alone with me and that we were so soon to be made one. In the waiter’s costume, this charming brown-haired girl looked so devilishly like a boy that was impatient to discover the essential difference. The hair was cut so closely, like that of a schoolboy who wishes to be thought anything but a scholar by his classmates, that there was a kind of disturbing mannishness to that charming face. But now that the breeches were down, I saw a pair of white cotton knickers, and I felt my cock throb and stiffen in response. Between ourselves, Alice and I knelt down and tugged the breeches off the struggling slim long legs of the wailing and sobbing captive. We unbuttoned the shirt and let it dangle loosely about her. She was now revealed in just the camisole and knickers, her slim long pale white legs almost entirely bare, since she wore half-socks of gray wool to about mid-calf and of course the black-patent leather shoes.
I found myself unfastening the shoulder straps of the camisole and letting it drop down to her ankles, whereupon Alice whisked the garment off, and our Will who was Wilhelmina shrieked aloud as she found herself naked from throat to the waistband of her knickers. They were very snug and tight-fitting, and their legs were down to about mid-thigh, slightly shorter than those of a pair of drawers. I could see now for myself how easy it had been to pass herself off as a youth, because her titties were small oranges, saucily high-perched, widely spaced, with the most adorable little pink buds set in narrow coral circles, the circles of love, as I always called them. Her belly was flat. and sleek and with an adorably tiny deep navel to mark it. The knickers shaped out one of the jounciest pair of compact, tightly spaced oval cheeked bottoms I have ever seen, and Alice’s eyes were glowing with a sadistic joy as they fixed on that exciting posterior. Wilhelmina’s thighs were long and shapely and on the slender side, her calves highset and sinuous. With the shirt loosely flapping and open down the front, and in only her knickers and the half-socks and shoes, together with that closely cropped hair of hers, I found this wench devilishly enticing.
“She really must have her knickers down, Jack dear, if you’re going to birch her,” Alice suggested.
“That’s quite true. But first I think the humiliation of a good smack bottom will be an ideal preparation for the birch,” I decided.
“Will you do it, or shall I, dear Jack?” Alice fairly panted in her excitement.
“Since it was your three pounds she took-which I of course will replace to you, my darling,” I gallantly replied, “to you shall fall the honor of initiating Will’s bottom in the pangs of retribution. This will be for the theft. Then we shall take up the matter of the impersonation and the flagrant deceptions she had practiced on us, by which time I have no doubt we shall learn more of her character than we now know. You may proceed, Alice.”
Chapter 14
I must confess that this was a most entertaining diversion which I had not even conjectured when I had made my plans to entertain my beautiful Alice. If I were inclined to pun, I should say I was exchanging my days of liberty for days of libertinage. But assuredly, had I planned it, I could have devised no more fascinatingly piquant scene to mark the reunion of Alice and myself under happier circumstances. For as you will recall in the first volume of my saga, delicious Alice was entrapped and against her own will brought into this lair of lust of mine and there compelled by the most delicious dalliance to accord to me that which she had refused to do by her own sweet volition. Now here we were on the eve of our nuptials, and as a kind of aperitif the two of us had entrapped a young girl who had stolen three pound notes from my fiancee and, what was worst of all, disguised herself as a youth in service to my caterer. Heaven alone knows what other scurrilous schemes she had perpetrated on the unwary. Now, posing on tiptoes of her brand-new and very shiny black patent leather shoes, the white man’s shirt unbuttoned all down the front and spreading out to disclose to my enraptured eyes the saucy oranges of her panting young titties, the pale white sleek goblet of her belly shuddering and rippling with constant tremors, her wrists pinioned by the pulley ropes, she stood in tight white cotton knickers and the gray wool half-socks and shoes awaiting our good pleasure. And pleasure indeed it would be-and it would be good!
Alice had already stationed herself behind the lovely and deceitful Wilhelmina, and posing her left hand on the girl’s neck, applied a tentative slap over each saucy bottom-summit.
“Gracious, Jack,” she called to me, “her bottom’s very hard and elastic. It will wear out my poor little hand long before she has had her count.”
“You are not to give her the entire chastisement of which she is long overdue with that soft little hand, my darling,” I responded. “Did I not tell you that this was but a prelude to the more serious part of her chastisement? You shall punish her as hard and as long as your hand can endure it, and you will tell yourself that when you have finished she will have had her share for the theft of your three pounds. You will leave the rest to me.”
“I do think,” Alice petulantly observed, for she had, I now perceived, become as sensitive as any voluptuary in the nuances of our charming games, “that this bulky shirt is really in the way and the tails of it hide her bottom.”
“In that case my dear, you have only to roll it up and perhaps drape it over her head. That will be an excellent idea, moreover, since it will serve as a blindfold and she will not know when to expect the smacks.”
No sooner said than done. With a gay little cry of delight, my lovely Alice seized the tails of the offending shirt, rolled them up and dragged them over the victim’s head, whilst I, not to be outdone in chivalry, aided her in front so that in a moment the white, thickly starched shirt completely muffled and veiled the wistful, charming oval face which I had originally taken as that of a boy.
“Oh sir, I beg of you if-if I must be punished, at least let her do it then,” came the imploring, sobbing supplication, muffled by the shirt. “It’s not decent for you to see me this way, sir, it truly isn’t! Oh, do be kind and let her punish me, and do you leave the room, I beg of you humbly!”
Now, this speech was not that of a course young ruffian from the slums of Soho or Newcastle, not one whit of it! The husky, tremulous voice and excellent diction made me suspect that Wilhelmina Ponsonby had a history far more intriguing than the concocted tale she had tried to pass off to excuse her theft of Alice’s money. She had a sick aunt, she had been trying to find work, so she had got this post at Willoughby’s and fallen victim to the temptation of seeing my fiancee’s open purse. No, it was much too pat. But I have found that the birch, when judiciously applied to the tenderest parts of a young lady’s anatomy, is a remarkable panacea for prevarication. And after Alice had inflicted the smack-bottom to which I had sentenced charming Wilhelmina, I meant to preside as master of the rod and draw from my felonious impersonatress a less mendacious story.
“Now I think you may safely go to it, Alice, and there is no need to hurry, since we have all evening before us,” I observed. I seated myself on a footstool at some distance from the gasping, squirming captive, not wishing to fall prey to one of her sporadic kicks, for those black patent-leather shoes seemed very stiff and solid, and my shins are exceptionally tender, I lit a cigar and reveled in the good life that lay before us, for if this was an augury of the felicitous hours that Alice and I should pass once we had exchanged our vows before the minister, then life would be indeed serene, and all my fears of losing my freedom would prove unfounded.
Alice rolled up the sleeves of her pretty frock, displaying those lovely plump, white arms whose tender, moist skin I had so often kissed and stroked in my moments of tender delight with her, but her pretty face was now
