vigorously. Sometimes he ‘did it’ to me half-a-dozen times during the night! I wonder how I escaped having a child.”
“Ah, my husband was a very different sort of man! He could hardly ‘do it’ at all,” said Frances, in a sorrowful tone of voice. She was a capital actress.
“Oh, that must have been horribly tantalizing,” observed Miss Martin. Then she said: “I wonder you don’t get married again.”
“Perhaps I will some day or other,” replied Frances, laughing. Then she stood up, saying: “I feel inclined to dance. Let us have a waltz. You shall be the ‘gentleman’ this time, and yon must hug me tightly.”
Miss Martin laughed, and getting off the sofa, put her arm round her “partner’s” waist in “manly” fashion; then they began to revolve briskly to a waltz tune hummed by Frances. They were both good dancers; and it was a most charming spectacle to see the two shapely naked women waltzing gracefully round and round the room; their beautiful bubbies undulating, their broad hips swaying voluptuously, and the movements of their legs.
At last they sat down, flushed and panting; I thought that all the fun was over: but Frances had not finished her little game. As soon as she had recovered her breath, she put her hand on Miss Martin’s bottom, and stroked it; saying in a tone of admiration:
“What a splendid bottom you have got; so plump and so firm. I thought I had a big bottom, but yours is far bigger in every way.” The governess smiled, and looked very much pleased. “Yes. I have got a big bottom,” she remarked complacently. “My husband used to admire it very much.”
“Well, it is worthy of admiration,” said Frances. “I believe men like women to have large bottoms. But, talking of bottoms, puts me in mind of whipping. I suppose, during the years you have been a governess, you have birched a good many little bottoms.”
“Yes, many a one. I have birched girls up to seventeen years of age.”
Frances laughed, then she asked, in the most innocent way:
“Were you ever birched when you were a girl?”
“Yes, very often.”
“Were you really,” said Frances, as if she were much astonished. “At a boarding-school, I suppose?”
“I never was at a boarding-school. I got all my birchings at home. I will tell you. My mother died when I was ten years old, and I was brought up, and educated entirely by my father. He was a stern, hard man; and whenever I failed in my lessons, or committed an offence, he used to lay me across a chair, bare my bottom, and birch me severely. He kept me under discipline until I was seventeen years of age; and he sometimes flogged me till the blood came.
“But I was a strong-girl, and could take an ordinary birching with considerable fortitude. Of course, I used to cry and writhe, but I never screamed unless he birched me hard enough to draw blood. He used to whip me with a full-sized birch rod; a very different thing to the little toy you use when you whip the children.”
“Well,” said Frances, smiling, “toy as it is, I don’t think you could bear amp; dozen smart cuts of it, without crying out.”
“Oh, I’m sure I could,” said Miss Martin, with a little laugh.
“I’ll bet you a dozen pairs of gloves to one pair, that you don’t take a dozen cuts in perfect silence,” said Frances, laughing.
“I’ll take the bet. I want some gloves, and I am sure to win them. Get out the toy,” said the governess, also laughing.
Frances went to the cabinet for the rod, and as she passed close to the curtains she turned towards them and smiled mischievously. The artful creature, knowing how fond I was of seeing a woman’s bottom whipped, had regularly humbugged the governess into allowing herself to be birched.
Flourishing the rod in the air, she said: “Now, Miss Martin, lie down. You may wriggle, and kick your legs about as much as you like while I am whipping you; but if you utter the least sound, you will lose the bet,”
The governess stretched herself at full length upon the sofa, saying laughingly: “All right, Mrs. Markham! You can begin. You won’t have much trouble in preparing me for punishment. But you must whip me fairly. Don’t strike always on one place; and don’t strike me on the thighs.”
As the end of the sofa was towards the curtains, I had a splendid, full-length view of Miss Martin’s plump, naked figure, as she lay prone; the swelling hemispheres of her great bottom standing out in high relief, white the cream-like tint of her skin was well shown off by the dark olive-green colour of the velvet on which she was lying.
Frances placed herself on the left side of the sofa, so that I saw her naked figure in profile, and very lovely it looked. Her beautiful white skin glistening; her delicious, round, pink-tipped titties rising and falling quickly, a smile curving her ripe red lips, her cheeks slightly flushed, and her blue eyes sparkling with excitement at the idea of using the rod. She was fond of whipping.
She began to birch: and though the rod was but a toy, the birching was no child’s play. Swinging the switch high above her head, for each stroke, she laid on the cuts slowly, with graceful sweeps of her round white arm, and with such force, that her bubbles shook, and the muscles of her bottom quivered each rime she struck the blow,
The little, beribboned birch rod hissed as k swept through the air, and it made a sharp swishing noise as it fell on the firm flesh of Miss Martin’s big bottom. The creamy skin reddened rapidly, and small weals rose in all directions on the broad, plump cheeks. She had winced sharply on receiving the first cat; the pain evidently being greater than she had expected: then she stiffened herself, clenched her fingers in the palms of her hands, buried her face in the sofa cushion, and lay perfectly still. But her flesh quivered involuntarily at each stinging cut of the little rod.
She certainly showed great fortitude. Not a sigh, or a moan escaped her lips, though the birching was a severe one; and when the twelve cuts had been inflicted, her bottom was scarlet and also considerably wealed. But she had won the dozen pairs of gloves. I thought they had cost her dear.
Frances threw down the rod, and Miss Martin got off the sofa, heaved a deep sigh of relief, and stood with both her hands pressed to her bottom. Her face was red, her lips were trembling a little, and her eyes were moist. Smiling faintly, she said in rather a shaky voice: “I have won the bet. But I must say that the ‘toy’ stung in a way that disagreeably surprised me, I should never have believed that it could cause such pain. It was as much as I could do to take the twelve cuts in silence.” Then twisting her head round, and looking over her shoulder, she said: “My bottom is very much marked, and it is still smarting dreadfully.”
Frances said, in a tone of sympathy: “Oh, you poor dear! I did not think you could have borne the birching. I fully expected you would have told me to stop, after I had given you two or three cuts. You have got pluck. I am sure I could not have taken one cut without screaming.”
All this was to flatter her victim. She went on: “You had better go to your bedroom, and bathe your bottom with cold water. I will put away the camera, and see to the plates.”
Poor Miss Martin, with a rueful face, rubbed her bottom, and said: “I shan’t be able to sit down comfortably for hours. I remember that I used to rub vaseline on my bottom to allay the smarting after a flogging. I will apply some now.”
Then she put on her chemise and wrapper; thrust her feet into her slippers and left the room.
Frances, still perfectly naked, threw herself down upon the sofa and burst out laughing; and I came out of the alcove, in a state of intense excitement. The whole spectacle had been most lascivious, from the moment the two ladies had stripped themselves naked, up to the moment the governess had left the room. My cock had been in full erection the whole time, and now it was positively aching from the prolonged strain; so I at once threw myself upon the lovely naked woman, and clasping her lithe, yielding body in my arms, I poked her with such vigour that I astonished both her and myself.
When she had put on her scanty attire, she sat down beside me on the sofa, and after complimenting me on the vigour I had shown; she said: “I hope you enjoyed the entertainment. I think it was quite a Variety’ show.”
“It was splendid,” I replied, giving her a hearty kiss. “I never enjoyed anything more in my life. You are a very clever woman. The way you worked up Miss Martin was a triumph of art.”
Frances laughed merrily. “Oh, she is a perfect innocent! She has learnt more this afternoon, than she ever learnt in the whole of her previous life. Now, tell me truly what you dunk of her figure.”
“She is a very well-made woman, but her figure is not so good as yours,” I replied; and I meant what I said.
