“Not in the mood to submit yet, Julia?” I asked coolly. “Very well. Perhaps you need a taste of the strap across those soft young bottom-cheeks.” To tell the truth I wished to avoid this, but there was no real alternative. I took the broad strap of thin leather, pressed down on the back of Julia's waist, and gave three smarting strokes. I aimed one of them so that the end of the strap caught her just between the legs, leaving an angry red line. With another stroke, the split tails of the thin leather curved in between Julia's bottom-cheeks. I leave you to imagine, Jack, if she continued to defy me after that! Once again my rubber-gloved hands spread the wetness of the soap- cream over Julia's heavier thighs, lumpish hips, and fatter arse-cheeks. Anticipating greater resistance, my well- loaded forefinger entered Julia's backside three times until her young belly's rear exhaust-pipe was quite filled with the cream.
Despite having had three smacks of the strap across her bare bottom-cheeks, Julia continued to gasp and tense under my hands, quite unlike Natasha's blushing submission! I suppose, Jack, that it would never do for an adolescent rebel like Julia to submit tamely to obedience-training imposed by her elders and betters! Be that as it may, she was no more able to resist the tickling of the little fountain-nozzle than the younger girl had been. Once more the grateful sponge was well-supplied. On my command, Julia's backside paid its tribute to the rubber-gloved hands. The provision of warm water was ampler in Julia's case than in Natasha's. Presently she lay defeated, shining wet from her own torrent. The morning ritual, which had lasted an hour, was almost over. Despite the extreme lewdness of what had been done to the two girl-pupils my stern moral diatribe had justified everything. I took a dry sponge and wiped the two pairs of thighs, hips, and rear cheeks until the moisture had almost gone. Taking perfumed powder in my hand, I rubbed it first over Natasha's bareness and then Julia's. I was most careful to work it into each little swell of pussy-flesh. Need I tell you, Jack, that the same powder contains a stimulant- irritant if you prefer-which would set up a virulent itch of longing in each girl's cunt? “Pull your knickers up, Natasha!” I said sharply, “Put your skirt on! Straighten those little white ankle-socks! Brush your hair into place! Straighten your tie!…
Julia, you young slut! Pull your panties up as well! And those jeans!
Show me the rear view. Ah yes, Julia! You like to parade through the streets in those tight pants, don't you? Do you do it to excite yourself- or to excite the men who see you? Or is it perhaps both?
Well, my two little bitches, today you shall walk in the grounds of the villa and no further. To save you from trying to play truant, you will find that the gates are locked and that the railings are tipped with sharp spikes to prevent you climbing over!” I dismissed them from their morning toilet but, as you will soon guess, I watched their activities closely while they walked in the sunlit alleys of the gardens. Knowing the grounds as well as I do, it was a simple matter to follow and spy upon them through the interstices of leaves and branches. The irritant powder rubbed into their cunt-flesh was working well. Indeed, I noticed that Julia was furtively touching herself through the tight denim of her jeans even before they left the washroom! As the erotic torment increased, they would grow desperate for relief and-I hoped-would perform some most lascivious antics.
And yet, Jack, let me be the first to admit that I had not reckoned upon the ingenuity of Julia. So used to running with the louts of the town, there is no whore in Piccadilly who has a surer instinct for sniffing out a stiff young prick-as if her nose could pick it up a mile away. Not an hour had passed before Julia was conversing with four young ruffians though the strong iron railings.
Natasha, as usual, stood back a little. She still played the part of the prim little prig. It was at a place where the line of the railings formed a right-angle, an unfrequented corner of the grounds. It was a scene of bonfires and compost heaps, silent as a rule but for the drone of summer flies. The four boys talked to Julia in broken English, supplemented by sign language. Even at fifteen, with her hard young face and short spiked crop of dark hair, Julia looked a whore.
Now there was no doubt. One of the lads unbuttoned and took out his prick. Natasha blushed at this, but Julia smiled. There was no way in which the young penis could embed itself in Julia's cunt or arse. The railings are two inches thick. Even if Julia spread her thighs or arse-cheeks right against the rails on her side, it would be hard for the lad to penetrate her. Yet they soon made a lovers' compact.
Julia was to bend over alongside one line of the corner railings, her face pressed to the other. It was simple for her to push her nose and lips through the gap a little and, indeed, to reach through with her hands in order to fondle their pricks. At the same time, the boys could walk round to the side of her as she bent, manualising her tits, cunt, and backside. In ten minutes more, one of the boys had taken down Julia's jeans and panties. With one hand he milked her cunt gently, the forefinger of his other hand up her arse. Another boy had worked his hand up inside her singlet to fondle her adolescent bubbies. Julia's healthy young cunt lubricated plentifully and she squirmed her hips in grateful ecstasy. She took the prick or an innocent young boy in her palm and stroked its limpness as if it had been a pet bird. When the young cock raised its head a little and stood proudly, Julia drew it to her mouth, rounded her lips, and began to suck gently up and down the pale shaft. Natasha, desperate to masturbate and relieve her erotic itch, was too bashful to do so openly. Yet she let the boys coax her to the railings and even went so far as to reach through and fondle a young penis. She did it wonderingly, for it was almost the first of these fabulous beasts that our little explorer had seen in reality. Despite the torment between her legs, our demure blonde could not quite bring herself to do what was necessary. Happily, the young ruffians decided the matter for both girls. Natasha's wrists-and Julia's-were suddenly held firm on the outside of the bars. Pulling the two girls forward by their arms, the boys looped a rough noose round each young neck. In a moment more, Julia and Natasha were bending side by side, mouths at the bars of their improvised prison, their bodies in easy grip of the lads who walked round to one side. The muddy pallor of Julia's bottom and thighs was already bare. Now it was the young blonde's navy-blue skirt which came down, followed by Natasha's cotton briefs. Julia, of course, was used to sucking the pricks of the boys in the town and continued to give the lad a good time with her agile tongue. But what of our prim little blonde? Natasha stared aghast when the youthful erection presented its knob insolently to her lips. Twisting her head vainly, she mewed her refusal through pressed lips. But one of the other boys reached through and began to manualise the desperately itching little clitoris and vaginal lips. A heavy odour of boudoir soap rose from the bare legs and hips of the two girls in the warm day. Despite her elfin slimness, one lad wished to touch up Natasha's bare arse and legs with the smouldering tip of a stick in order to make her obey. The others were wiser than he. Already she was giving out whimpering gasps of relief at the fondling and her little cunt shed its first pearly tears of lubrication into the boy's hand.
“Suck the prick, Natasha,” he said gently as he fondled her. “In ten years time or less you'll be a bride- and your husband will certainly make you do it. You might just as well learn the art of it now!” Natasha gave a little whine of refusal. The boy drew his hand away. “In that case, Natasha, you must not expect the caresses of others.” She gave a cry of despair as the virulent erotic itch now reasserted its power, unappeased. In vain she tried to rub her cunt-lips between her legs. “Suck the prick, Natasha, if you want me to fondle you,” said the boy with a laugh. Natasha turned her head to the bars, the blue eyes and sulky young face so self-pitying under the blond fringe. The lad who presented his erection to her lips took the chignon of her soft hair and held her steady. As if obliged to avoid suffocation, Natasha opened her mouth and allowed the youthful penis to enter. The other boy returned his hand between her legs. He felt Natasha shudder with gratitude as the masturbation was resumed. Throughout the long summer afternoon, Julia and Natasha remained bending. Each boy who waited his turn to be sucked frigged his pupil, while his predecessor was tantalised by the loving lips and tongue. A girl who takes the spurts of male sperm down her throat is said in Berlin to “drink a toast to Cupid” or “to drink Cupid's milk.” So the gentle voices of that warm day charted the girls' progress in debauchery. “Suck the prick again, Julia…
Natasha, drink another toast to Cupid… Wait for a moment, Julia. I must smack your bottom for you, you little whore!… Natasha! Drink another toast to Cupid!… No cheating, Julia! Swallow down your pride!… I had not the heart, dear Jack, to interrupt young love's innocent frolics! Between them, Julia and Natasha must have consumed almost a pint of Cupid's nourishment that afternoon. They returned and dined upon more orthodox victuals. When it was almost time to send them to bed, I ordered them instead to the fateful room with the convenient marble demonstration-table. Perhaps by now they were too weary even to protest at the removal of skirt and jeans, as well as their white stretched briefs. Yet it was not I, Jack, who attended them now. They were bathed with most orthodox warm water and soap, washed from toe to top and elegantly perfumed, by the hands of Sonja and Petra. There was no severity, you understand, only the most loving attention. They were like sisters together, rather than mistress and slave. From the next room I heard Sonja's gentle tones.
“Turn over on your tummy now, Natasha! Relax the cheeks of your bottom properly, my little pet!” And then the washing and the towelling continued, followed by the perfume spray. Presently the voice resumed, more
