excitement as he led Lucy into the adjoining apartment and left her alone with Madeline.
'Now, gentlemen,' said Monsignor, 'the moment approaches, and you will forgive me, Mr. Clinton, if I have to indulge in a slight coarseness of language, but time presses, and plain Saxon is the quickest method of expression. Personally, I do not feel inclined to fuck Lucy myself, as the fact is I had connection with her mother the night previous to her marriage, and as Lucy was born exactly nine months afterwards, I am rather in doubt as to the paternity.'
'In other words,' I said, astounded, 'you think it possible that you may be her father.'
'Precisely,' said Monsignor. 'You see that the instant the flagellation is ended, somebody must necessarily fuck her, and personally my objection prevents me. Boniface, here, prefers boys to women, and Dr Price will be too busy taking notes, so that it rests between you and De Vaux, who had better toss up.'
De Vaux, who was stark mad to think that his little gonorrhoeal disturbance was an insuperable obstacle, pleaded an engagement later on, which he was bound to fulfil, and therefore Monsignor Peter told me to be sure to be ready the instant I was wanted.
Madeline entered at this moment and informed us that all was ready, but gave us to understand that she had experienced the greatest difficulty in overcoming poor Lucy's natural scruples at being exposed in all her virgin nakedness to the gaze of so many of the male sex.
'She made a very strange observation, too,' continued Madeline, looking at me with a drollery I could not understand. 'She said, 'If it had been only Mr. Clinton, I don't think I should have minded quite so much.''
'Oh! all the better,' said Father Peter, 'for it is Mr. Clinton who will have to relieve her at the finish.'
With these words we proceeded to the birching-room, which it appears had been furnished by these professors of flagellation with a nicety of detail and an eye to everything accessory to the art that was calculated to inspire a neophyte like myself with the utmost astonishment.
On a framework of green velvet was a soft down bed, and reclined on this length was the blushing Lucy.
Large bands of velvet, securely buckled at the sides, held her in position, while her legs, brought well together and fastened in the same way, slightly elevated her soft shapely arse.
The elevation was further aided by an extra cushion, which had been judiciously placed under the lower portion of her belly.
Monsignor bent over her and whispered a few soothing words into her ear, but she only buried her delicate head deeper into the down of the bed, while the reverend Father proceeded to analyse the points of her arse.
CHAPTER 8
Having all of them felt her arse in turn, pinching it as though to test its condition, much as a connoisseur in horseflesh would walk around an animal he was about to buy, Monsignor at length said'What a superb picture.' His eyes were nearly bursting from their sockets. 'You must really excuse me, gentlemen, but my feelings overcome me,' and taking his comely prick out of his breeches, he deliberately walked up to Madeline, and before that fair damsel had guessed his intentions, he had thrown her down on the companion couch to Lucy's and had fucked her heart out in a shorter space of time than it takes me to write it.
To witness this was unutterably maddening. I scarcely knew what to be at; my heart beat wildly, and I should then and there have put myself into Lucy had I not been restrained by Father Boniface who, arch-vagabond that he was, took the whole business as a matter of course and merely observed to Monsignor that it would be as well to get it over as soon as possible, since Mr. Clinton was in a devil of a hurry.
Poor Lucy was deriving some consolation from Dr Price in the shape of a few drops of Pinero Balsam in champagne, while as for De Vaux, he was groaning audibly, and when the worthy Father Peter came to the short strokes De Vaux's chordee became so unbearable that he ran violently out into Monsignor's bedroom, as he afterwards informed me, to bathe his balls in ice water.
To me there was something rather low and shocking in a fuck before witnesses, but that is a squeamishness that I have long since got the better of.
Madeline, having wiped Monsignor's prick with a piece of mousseline de laine, a secret known only to the sybarite in love's perfect secrets, retired, presumably to syringe her fanny, and Monsignor buttoned up and approached his self-imposed task.
Taking off his coat he turned up his short cuffs and, Boniface handing him the birch rods, the bum-warming began.
At the first keen swish poor Lucy shrieked out, but before half a dozen had descended with a quick smacking sound which betokens that there is no lack of elbow grease in the application, her groans subsided, and she spoke in a quick strained voice, begging for mercy.
'For the love of God,' she said, 'do not, pray do not lay it on so strong.'
By this time her lovely arse had assumed a flushed, vermilion tinge, which appeared to darken with every stroke, and at this point Dr Price interposed.
'Enough, Monsignor, now my duty begins.' And quick as thought he placed upon her bottom a piece of linen, which was smeared with an unguent, and stuck it at the sides with a small modicum of tar plaster to prevent it from coming off.
'Oh!' cried Lucy, 'I feel so funny. Oh! Mr. Clinton, if you are mere, pray relieve me, and make haste.'
In an instant my trousers were down, the straps were unbuckled, and Lucy was gently turned over on her back.
I saw a delicate bush of curly hair, a pair of glorious thighs, and the sight impelled me to thrust my prick into that divine Eden I had visited but a short time before with an ardour that for a man who had lived a fairly knockabout life was inexplicable.
I had scarcely got it thoroughly planted, and had certainly not made a dozen well-sustained though rapid strokes, before the gush of sperm which she emitted drew me at the same instant, and I must own that I actually thought the end of the world had come.
'Now,' said Dr Price, rapidly writing in his pocket-book, 'you see that my theory was correct. Here is a maid who has never known a man and she spends within ten seconds of the entrance being effected. Do you suppose that without the birching she could have performed such a miracle?'
'Yes,' I said, 'I do, and I can prove that all your surmises are but conjecture, and that even your conjecture is based upon a fallacy.'
'Bravo,' said Father Peter, 'I like to see Price fairly collared. Nothing flabbergasts him like facts. Dear me, how damnation slangy I am getting tonight. Lucy, dear, don't stand shivering mere, slip on your things and join Madeline in my snuggery; we shall all be mere presently. Go on, Clinton.'
'Well,' I said, 'it is easy enough to refute the learned doctor. In the first place Lucy was not a maid.'
'That be damned for a tale,' said Fattier Boniface. 'I got her mother to let me examine her myself last night while she was asleep, previous to handing over the hundred pounds.'
'Yes, that I can verify,' said Monsignor, 'though I must admit that you have a prick like a kitchen poker, for you got into her as easy as though she'd been on a Regent Street round for twenty years.'
'I will bet anyone here fifty to one,' I said, quietly taking out my pocket-book, 'that she was not a maid before I poked her just now.'
'Done,' said the doctor who, upon receiving a knowing wink from Father Peter, felt sure he was going to bag two ponies, 'and now how are we to prove it?'
'Ah, that will be difficult,' said Monsignor.
'Not at all,' I observed, 'let the young lady be sent for and questioned on the spot where you assume she was first deflowered of her virginity.'
'Yes, that's fair,' said De Vaux, and accordingly he called her in.
'My dear Lucy,' said Monsignor, 'I wish you to tell me the truth in answer to a particular question I am about to put to you.'
'I certainly will,' said Lucy, 'for God knows I have literally nothing now to conceal from you.'
