Algernon stooped over the girl. “Still think it was such fun, Elke? After we've whipped you, you'll have the jelly-fish tickling you again for a whole hour, so that you really get the chance to enjoy it!” Had such a thing happened, who can say what the outcome would have been? But events were now about to take an unexpected turn.
Elke was in a perfect condition for being whipped. When Algernon touched a hand lightly to the girl's buttocks, even that made her gasp and flinch away-so sorely had the stings made her smart. They agreed that each boy should give her three dozen strokes across her backside with the improvised whips of mooring-cord. However, at the mention of this, Elke began to twist her hips so wildly that it would have been hard to land the whips in the right place. The ingenuity of retribution had seized Algernon. He had decided to make Elke wear a “persuader” between the cheeks of her arse while she was whipped. This was a simple device. It consisted of a narrow strap which ran from the front of her belt at the navel, down her belly, under her legs, up between her buttocks to fasten at the back of the belt. Where it was drawn tightly up between her hind cheeks, a row of needle-sharp points protruded to either side. He explained carefully to Elke that so long as she bent right over for the whip- her arse-cheeks stretched wide-and so long as she kept quite still, the needle-tips would dent the skin down either surface of her bottom-cleft but would not pierce it. If she attempted to writhe or tense or straighten up, she would martyr herself on the fine steel points. You may well believe, Dolly, that this news did not much reassure Fraulein Elke! How could she not squirm under the lash? However, the strap was drawn tightly into place and her spread arse-cheeks were helplessly presented to her four youthful chastisers. At the thought of giving thirty-six whip-strokes across the ripe adolescent cheeks of Elke Mahne's backside each young penis was beginning to stiffen up again. Indeed, the knowledge that she would get almost a hundred and fifty strokes by simple arithmetic seemed only to add to the hectic excitement.
Fear not, Dolly! She was to be saved before that happened.
Algernon himself gave her thirty-six with the improvised whip, thrashing Elke's fat young buttocks with more force than expertise.
However, he produced some impressive weals and drove her frantic as she screamed into her gag. Twice she failed to control herself and clenched her bottom-cheeks on the wicked needle-tips of the persuader!
But before they could continue with the discipline, one of the lads shouted “Cave!” the traditional schoolboy warning of an approaching master. They took the persuader, pulled up her jeans and fastened them. The jelly-fish was returned to its ocean pool. They had neither time nor inclination to unfasten Elke but left her with the appearance of a girl spying on boys to see them undress for their swimming lesson. With a gag in her mouth, she could hardly deny it!
The truth was, Dolly, that the meeting of the college governors had ended and that the dignitaries who made up this body had gone off separately to take the evening air. The figure who now approached down the cliff path was Colonel Randy Hart of the Blues. The view which greeted him on the public side of the wooden groin was of Elke's backside and thighs in the tight jeans as she bent through the hole.
Of her sullen young face and the sly hazel eyes he could see nothing.
However it was clear that she was staring at the four boys on the school side who had taken off their bathing drawers, in order to dress in their uniforms, and whose young pricks were freely displayed.
Colonel Randy brushed up his luxuriant moustaches and screwed the monocle more firmly in his eye. “By Gad!” he said loudly, “A damned little bunter spying on the school fellows! Is that the game, missy? Is it? What? What?” He walked up behind her and clapped his hands on her tightly clad backside. Elke, in her tender state, squirmed and mewed into her gag. Colonel Randy took this for lascivious writhing and moans of passion. The colonel, a builder of empire who had had much to do with native girls and uncontrolled lusts of primitive womanhood, chortled at this. He stared round quickly and believed himself to be unobserved. Looking in the girl's reticule he saw a card with her name, age, and address upon it.
Knowing something of my own military sympathies he evidently thought himself quite safe-when he saw that I was written down as her summer guardian! “Well, now, Elke Mahne!” He brushed up the ginger moustaches again, “A young hunter that must spy on boys' pricks and then whimpers with excitement when she's touched needs something more than a dame-school nagging! Eh? What?” He undid her pants again and drew them down, grinning hugely as he saw Elke's adolescent buttocks glowing hotter than the setting sun. He spat into his hands, rubbed them together, and gave a dozen ear-splitting smacks on those seductive rear orbs. For any girl, such a spanking would have stung hard. Poor Elke with her arse-cheeks smarting so dreadfully already, shrieked wildly into her gag. “I like a tart of sixteen with hot pants, Elke!” boomed the colonel. “From the look of those arse- halves, you're the sort of slut who likes to get a bottom-smacking! What?
What?” So the hero of Majuba Hill, and a dozen other conflicts, let fly. This time twelve lusty slaps on each of Elke Mahne's bottom-cheeks. Colonel Randy could see clearly the smarting arse of the Austrian girl and yet this somehow seemed only to stiffen his manhood. He stopped and, taking another look round to see that the coast was clear, he unbuttoned himself. “No sense lookin' a gift-horse in the mouth, m' dear!” he said, with his curious choice of metaphor. His sixty-year-old prick stood stiff enough for a man of twenty-five. He threaded it into her cunt from behind and pumped up into her vigorously. Like many a soldier of his rank, he regarded a girl as a filly to be ridden or driven by a man. He talked to her as if she was his restive mount, smacking her flanks from time to time, as he fucked her, in order to make her more amenable. If ever my plans materialise, Dolly, I shall invite Colonel Randy to be our guest. What choice of pleasure would he make? He will use one of the little garden carriages with a single seat for the driver. Elke Mahne with her jeans and panties stripped off will be harnessed bending between the shafts, one cross-bar supporting her belly and her wrists strapped to the forward one. Imagine Colonel Randy mounting and seeing her ripe sixteen-year-old bottom-cheeks facing up towards him!
Confronted by such a prospect, what man could resist a long carriage-drive through the grounds, from lunchtime until dinner? Smack goes the whip and round go the wheels! You may be sure that our “pony-girl” Elke would return in floods of tears, her cunt and arse well-plumbed and her young backside embroidered by the colonel's equestrian skill! On this occasion he was much milder, huffing and puffing as he roared towards his climax. Being a gentleman, he did not spend in the girl's cunt but drew his manhood out and allowed it to spout hot jets of gruel all over the scarlet soreness of Elke Mahne's bottom-cheeks and down the backs of her thighs. Scarcely had he done this when a sound of footsteps warned the gallant soldier that he was about to be discovered. Without waiting to pull up Elke's pants for her, he galloped off to the concealment of the cliff-path, stuffing his penis back into his trousers as he ran. Now, Dolly, you may feel that Colonel Randy is something less than a pattern of moral rectitude. But could you cast one single aspersion at that venerable old widow, Lady Loosely? She it was who now appeared on the scene in a long velvet dress, carrying her stole and lorgnettes. She saw the rear view of the fucked fraulein and gasped at the outrage of it. Not only was Elke spying on the boys as they changed out of their bathing drawers, the young whore had undressed herself and allowed a man to enjoy her from the rear at the same time! There could be no doubt of it. Lady Loosely, proud and upright, crossed the pebbles with firm tread and stood behind the culprit. “Slut!” she said, reading the card which the colonel had dropped close by, “Dirty little Austrian slut!” She was about to smack Elke's bottom hard and long but her hands touched a substance which had been foreign to her ladyship's life since her lamented husband died in the cunt of Maggie the Scrubber, the blond toast of Bridewell lock-up. Lady Loosely raised her lorgnettes to her eyes and examined the smarting, glowing cheeks of Elke's bottom, scrutinising the half-congealed spurts of gruel by which they were spangled. Her ladyship straightened up with a sniff. “Disgusting!” she said loudly, “You're a proper little whore, Elke Mahne! I shall go and ask Dr. Thwackum to come down here with his birch. But even he ought not to see you in so lewd a state of spent lust as this.” Taking her own handkerchief, Lady Loosely mopped over the adolescent girl's swollen bottom-cheeks and thighs, wiping carefully between her legs. She then used her hands to examine Elke's state with gentle fondling, stroking and touching. This inspection lasted for quite half an hour, even requiring her ladyship to insert one finger up Elke's cunt and another up her bottom. It was observed by my spies, Dolly, that the rate of the pulse in her ladyship's throat was almost twice the speed on her departure from the beach than it had been when she had first appeared there forty minutes earlier. At last the venerable beak-nosed figure of Dr. Thwackum arrived. In his hand was a severe birch, the kind made of three parallel switches of willow. He stood behind Elke and, it seemed, a trembling fit seized him. You may be sure it was outrage, Dolly, for anything else would be unthinkable in the case of this great moralist and public educator of the nation's leaders. He did not touch Elke but stood about two feet behind her. Bowing a little, no doubt with grief at such a lewd display, he clasped his hands before him, low down. From the back, my informants could not see exactly what the venerable doctor was doing. He seemed to be vigorously winding his watch-or perhaps polishing his cuffs-or even
