being midway between the lumpishness of an adolescent child and the grace of a young nymph. She now wore her white ankle socks and a pair of tight, stretched briefs made of white cotton web, the first sign that she was due for a dancing lesson.
Miss Martinet stood close, kissed Vanessa lightly on the lips, and began to work the briefs down over the youngster's hips and thighs. I stared with fascination, wondering if fourteen-year-old Vanessa would be compelled to have Lesbian sex with her mistress. Miss M. led her to a chair and sat down. She put Vanessa over her knee and stroked the bare back and hips for a moment. The taut, adolescent pallor of Vanessa's bottom-cheeks was so prominently presented that I thought she was due for a spanking from Miss Martinet, but that was not what happened.
The mistress slid a hand through the rear opening of the schoolgirl's thighs and began to fondle Vanessa's vaginal pouch and clitoris. The pupil gasped and squirmed with the excitement of this delicious masturbation. She did not climax, but the lubrication began to flow in her cunt and soon one could see its slipperiness on her inner thighs as well as on her love-purse itself.
What do you imagine Miss M. did next? She took some discs of red sticky paper, each the size of a small com. One by one she wetted them with Vanessa's cunt juice and then stuck them here and there on the woman-child's body. The breast halter was removed and they were pasted to her blossoming tits. They were stuck to her belly, her thighs, and between her thighs. Yet more were glued lightly to Vanessa's taut, pale bottom-cheeks and some on her arse-hole. Then she was made to stand up.
Can you guess what was about to happen, Lizzie! I vow I could not. Never fear, my sweet. The mystery shall be revealed in tomorrow night's letter from your own adoring,
Charles
LETTER 7
My darling Lizzie,
I now resume my account of the other day's adventures. Picture Vanessa, naked but for her white ankle socks, standing at the centre of the polished boards which form the floor of the music room. Her wrists are strapped together in front of her. A leather collar 'round her neck is attached to a slack cord which hangs from the beam above her, thus keeping her in one area of the floor.
I could not hear whether there was the music of a tambourine and flute, yet Vanessa now began the sinuous writhing of a harem dance. So clumsy she seemed for fourteen, though there was a knowing-ness in that light, olive-skinned face, with its mocking blue eyes and well-cut features, under the fringe of her casque of brown hair.
She knelt open-legged before her mistress's chair and began to shake her pert young breasts eagerly. I could see Miss M.'s lips forming her words slowly.
'Have you been fondling and playing with your tits as I ordered, Vanessa, to fill them out? Good. Come to my room each evening at nine and show me how you do it.'
The aim of the dance was to shake free the tiny discs of paper stuck to the youngster's body. At last they began to spiral like autumn leaves from Vanessa's sweet little breasts. Miss Martinet leant forward, took each nipple in turn, and erected it firmly with her skilful tongue. Vanessa rose and began arching and rolling her taut belly at Miss M., offering it to her kisses. By this means she contrived to make the mistress's lips brush her flat and taut abdomen, thus freeing more of the paper discs. Then, leaning far back, the pupil offered her splayed thighs, writhing them seductively to dislodge the red circles pasted between. Miss M.'s finger caressed Vanessa's love-slit until the schoolgirl thighs trembled from quite a different cause.
By squirming her thighs together, Vanessa managed to dislodge most of the discs on their inner surfaces, but those on her cunt itself proved so tenacious. Smiling, Miss Martinet intruded her fingers between Vanessa's squirming adolescent thighs so that her dancing pupil might smooth herself upon them and so free the little paper discs which clung there. With how many soft schoolgirl sighs and gasps were they dislodged!
Her mistress took a towel and rubbed it lightly between the girl's thighs, squeezing Vanessa's love-purse dry in such a manner as to bring her close to orgasm. Now the petite high-school charmer turned. The cheeks of Vanessa's bottom had the pale taut-ness and elasticity of childhood but also the first traces of a woman's more voluptuous fullness. She leant forward a little and writhed her seat-cheeks at Miss Martinet, as if trying to seduce the older woman by this performance.
Miss Martinet was not smiling now. She craned forward a little, lips pressed hard. Vanessa's arse-cheeks surged and parted so innocently. Miss Martinet chose a tawse, a broad lightweight strap, divided into three tails at its end. Vanessa's backside did a desperate jungle dance, but the obstinate red discs of paper still clung.
The mistress used the strap across the bare writhing cheeks of Vanessa's bottom. She caught the youngster on the backs of the thighs as well. Six tunes the leather exploded on the cheeks of Vanessa's fourteen-year-old backside. Twice more on her thighs. She tried to turn 'round, to shield her buttocks, but the strap kissed her flank savagely.
As the last paper disc fluttered down, Vanessa sank to the floor exhausted. Miss Martinet ceased to be the tyrant and became the lover once more. She knelt beside Vanessa, gently stroking the casque of brown hair, comforting and caressing until her fingers slipped at last between the rather ungainly adolescent thighs. Vanessa's sobs became soft, questioning sighs of wonder. Miss Martinet kissed the tears from the eyes of her high-school pupil. With gentle skill, she brought Vanessa to a crescendo for ten or fifteen minutes.
Then I saw a curious thing: to one side of the room was a long curtain, reaching from the ceiling to within an inch or two of the floor. From under the curtain protruded a foot in a black, patent-leather shoe. In front of the concealed figure, whose excitement seemed to come from watching Vanessa, there knelt a young woman whose name was spoken as Julie. I recognised this as belonging to a nineteen-year-old girl in Miss Martinet's possession. Julie was one of those slender young women who make up their height by high heels, and whose thighs are no thicker than a man's upper arm.
Julie is a slut as surely as any girl in the establishment. Through a chink in the curtain I could make out her sulky, sour little face with its rather crude features and dark, hazel eyes. Her blond hair had been braided into a plait and was pinned up in a topknot, revealing her slender little neck. I can imagine how the men who were served by her in the shop where she worked must have coveted her. What would they have said now to see Julie rhythmically and expertly sucking the penis?
As she knelt at her task, her thighs were so slender, and yet the slight backward jut of her hips gave a certain rather childish fatness to the shape of her bottom-cheeks. There was a senile crowing from her lover and Julie was obliged to swallow down her repugnance. Two veined and gnarled old hands held her head close while the old man's sperm-spasm loaded her tongue and he made her gulp it down.
I walked slowly to the front entrance of the house, wondering who the old lecher might be. There, outside the handsome portico, I saw the private carriage of Silas Raven, K.C., in all the majesty of the law.
They had not seen me, of course, and yet I could not bring myself to go in and face the pair at luncheon. Instead, I took a stroll in the pleasant summer gardens above the sea for an hour and then resolved, since the pranks in the stable must be over, to return to my office there.
As I had surmised, the stable was silent and deserted. I wondered where the two grooms might be, and whether they had taken Jackie and Maggie with them. It seemed a day of midsummer madness, when lechery was enthroned in men's minds-and women's too! I remembered that there was a hundred-yard length of chain, stretching down the cliff to a buoy in the shallows, which had to be wound onto the spool of the old mill wheel. The grooms had been told by Miss M. to see it done that afternoon. I went down almost as far as the old miller's grinding wheel, unused for many a day, and stopped short. Nothing I had seen so far on this midsummer day equalled the present spectacle.
The grooms had devised an ingenious scheme for drawing the long chain up the cliff and 'round the grinding wheel, to which one end was already attached. The wheel had a yoke across it, protruding at either side, to which beasts of burden had once been attached. Some means must be found to turn it now, in a heavy two-hour labour.
