He thrashed me soundly. I came twice under the punishment. I asked him if he had a thick belt. He was shuddering with emotion and I noted a bead of sperm at the end of his prick. He too had come in punishing me. He produced a black leather belt not unlike my father's. 'Thrash me with that, as hard as you can, ten times!' I begged him.
His eyes glinted.
'Be my master!' I breathed passionately.
That set him erect again. A cunning look came on his face.
'You'll do as I say!' he said.
'Yes! Oh, yes!'
He cut me hard with the leather belt. I writhed in agony. All the time he muttered filthy obscenities at me.
'Give me your cunt again!' he commanded.
I turned over and raised my cunt to his face. He sucked away all the accumulated sweat and slime. I thought he would never get enough. Then, suddenly, he was going to shove his prick in me.
'No! Not that! I want it!'
He grinned delightedly and brought it near my face. I took it at once between my lips and sucked all the sperm out of his old body. Then I turned on my face and lay exhausted. A moment later I felt his face on my buttocks and his tongue, like a soft scoop, was working at my anus.
It was dark when we woke.
He lit a paraffin lamp and stood staring down at me. I noticed that his cock was erect again and that he was masturbating. When I went to take it in my mouth, he shook his head. He seemed to derive pleasure from my watching him. He grunted, winking at me all the time. Then, when he was about to come, he threw himself voraciously on my arse and I felt his big prick burst painfully into my tender anus. The pain was excruciating, but gradually the familiar sensation of pleasure overriding pain came to me. I twitched beneath him like a landed fish.
Who would have thought there was so much pleasure to be derived from one old man?
I stayed with the shoemaker until ten o'clock at night. Just before I left, he hooked his finger in my cunt again and drew me close.
'Next time it'll be better!' he croaked.
He knew I would go back.
— 10-
It was a full year before I saw Mr. Oakes again. I knew that Hazel saw him at least once a month and, as her fair body was never lacerated, I presumed she fulfilled the function of whip mistress solely. Sometimes I was able to look at her bankbook when she was at the lavatory and I saw the steady increase in her savings. It was about that time, just before my second meeting with Mr. Oakes, that I began to feel superior to Hazel. She was simply a paid professional. For me, on the contrary, the realm of pain and pleasure was a religion. It was unthinkable that I could ever earn my living in the way Hazel did.
After I met my shoemaker, I no longer looked forward with the same desperation to the day when I would be invited to visit the big house again. Old Willie knew that my young body was demanding, that the more terribly he inflicted humiliations and punishments upon me, the more urgently my body and soul cried out for their increase. And he was an accomplished leather-smith. In a short while he had created not only the most fiendish of thongs with which to lacerate my trembling flesh, but had also fixed pulleys to the ceiling and floor of his back shop, so that my young torso, thonged at wrists and ankles, could be stretched and held taut like a quivering bowstring of flesh, and in four or five excruciating positions, to meet its punishment. He became a master in the art of flagellation, the high priest of my terrible cosmos of pain. He did everything with adoration, thrashing my flesh, thrusting his old lips voraciously into my sweating cunt, twisting thin black thongs of leather around my thighs with a stick. He made many instruments. Perhaps the most terrible of all was the simple leather instrument which the called 'The Prick.' It was a long cock of laminated leather as thick and three times as long as a strong man's rampant member. Had he not used it with great care, it would have been a killing instrument. It could be used either as an instrument of flagellation or as a ravisher. Other interesting implements were 'The Brush,' 'The Beads,' 'The Balls,' 'The Crushing Cunt,' and 'The Five-Fingered-Spranger.' The last was a masterpiece of simplicity and efficiency: five eighteen-inch rods of flexible steel covered with leather thrusting from a handle shaped like a human hand.
Perhaps I would be spread-eagled like a spider web between floor and ceiling while he was licking my cunt. I asked him what he intended to do to me.
He would give a small throaty laugh.
'A good brushing to begin with, ha! Eh? And what d'ye say to a sprang after? And then a prick!' And with that he would spit some yellow phlegm on my belly and stretch me to breaking point.
Thus, when I came to meet Mr. Oakes again, I was not at all impressed by his superior manner. Moreover, I had remained a virgin in the technical sense, for although the leather prick had been thrust into me brutally on many occasions, the shoemaker had never tried to put his own prick into me. We had agreed that my cunt was a shrine to be worshipped at but never penetrated by human member, that no semen should ever sully our shrine. For that purpose, when he saw fit, he used my anus or my mouth.
One day Hazel said to me: 'I want you to give this to a friend of mine, Gertie.'
She handed me a letter.
'Be at the entrance to the subway at St. Enoch's Station at three this afternoon. My friend will come and ask you for it.'
She would say no more. I suspected at once it had something to do with Mr. Oakes. I said I would only do so if she would turn over my own bankbook to me. She finally did so after a great deal of protest.
I had been standing outside the subway for about five minutes when a shining black Rolls drew up in front of me.
Mr. Oakes leaned out of the window at the rear. He raised a finger.
'Gertrude!'
I walked slowly over to the car.
'Come for a drive,' he said. 'I have something to say to you.'
'Is this for you?' I said, holding up the letter.
He frowned with annoyance.
'What is it?'
'A letter from Hazel. For a friend. At least that's what Hazel said.'
'Of course, of course. You were sent to meet me. Now will you step in please?'
'What do you want to talk to me about?'
'We can talk about that in the car, my dear. Will you please step in?'
I did so with an air of independence that infuriated Mr. Oakes. He tapped the glass in front and gave the chauffeur his instructions.
It was some minutes before he spoke again.
'I want you to understand, Gertrude, that if you are to be of any use to me, I must have absolute obedience. I thought we had made that quite clear a year ago.'
Without a word I handed him the bankbook.
'What's that?' he said, the frown passing over his brow again.
'It's the money you gave me a year ago,' I said evenly. 'I am returning it to you. I am not a prostitute like Hazel.'
Mr. Oakes misunderstood me, as I had expected him to. He raised an eyebrow derisively. 'I see,' he said. 'So you have found a boyfriend and you're in love!'
I looked out of the car window as I spoke as though he himself were not interesting enough for my gaze. As
