Kneeling by my chair and kissing my hand, Claudia begged to be allowed to remain under my roof. She pressed her lips to my hand again and vowed to be “a good girl.” In her despair at my implacable moral rectitude, she implored me to inflict any alternative form of punishment- however severe. She would submit to it eagerly-and love me for it ever afterwards. I shifted a little in my chair, partly to give an impression of judicial indecision-and in part to try and conceal from Claudia's eyes the stiffening bulge of my prick in my trousers. “Nothing but a bare- bottomed whipping would suffice, Claudia,” I said abruptly, “and such a punishment would be rather unseemly.” No it would not! Claudia assured me at the top of her voice. She had read of such things in her studies- so she had!- and knew that in England girls were very often punished in that way.
“You suggest I should whip you like the young Mitchener tart?”
She nodded with something like excitement at the chance of escaping so easily. “I give fifty strokes with the cane across the bare bottom,” I said dismissively, “Never less. Sometimes more.”
Claudia quite understood and seemed more eager than ever. She is not a girl who enjoys a whipping- quite the contrary-but as an alternative to public disgrace and family scandal she wanted it badly.
“I should have to examine you very thoroughly- before and after-as is customary in reformatory thrashings.” She was so delighted at my relenting that I thought she might bend over the desk and take her pants down for my fingering there and then. And so, Dolly, I became the decent fellow who hates to see a girl's character ruined when there is a less damaging way of dealing with her offence.
I led her to the far side of the desk. “Bend tightly forward over the desk, Claudia. Stretch your arms out in front of you so that I can strap your wrists to the two far corners.” She obeyed and I anchored her in this position by the straps. What a view, Dolly! The firm broadened cheeks of Claudia's bottom in the tight sheen of emerald green briefs! The shape of pussy flesh plumply offered! The firm young thighs already bare! I saw that she had twisted her tousled crop of light brown hair and was trying to look back at me as she pillowed her head on the desk. It would never do. I took the two little screens and set them either side of her hips as she bent.
Stretched out as she was, it was now impossible for her to see what was going on behind her. I knew that I was truly going to enjoy myself with Claudia, and this expectation stiffened my prick so monstrously that I had to unbutton myself and release it. I chose a long and supple cane which would have raised panic in the hardest reformatory girl-and I opened the jar of vaseline. I pulled the black velveteen singlet well up to enjoy a view of Claudia's lightly suntanned back with the delicate and intricate bone-pattern of its vertebrae. “Do your teachers in Germany never undress you like this for punishment, Claudia? No? I'm sure they must want to. Any man with a pretty pupil like you wants to use the cane across her bare bottom.” The swollen knob of my prick touched the sheen of her briefs, nodding against a well-rounded cheek. “I shall take your briefs down now, Claudia. You'll feel the punishment more exquisitely from having the bamboo across your bare buttocks.” I took the waistband where it dented the soft flesh of her hips and stripped the green briefs down and off. The broadened young cheeks of Claudia's backside in this posture were more obviously swelling into firm femininity. I still maintain, Dolly, that it is at fifteen or so that many German beauties are most appealing in this part. Too often another ten years add a fatness to their behinds which is a little excessive for my taste. J opened a drawer of the desk between Claudia's pretty knees, obliging her to keep her legs six inches apart at that point. My hands touched the cool smoothness of her nymphlike buttocks, pressing the oval cheeks apart. I laid my finger on the little bud-hole of Claudia's anus. “I shall have to take your temperature here, Claudia, with an arse-thermometre. Before and after your chastisement:” Claudia's rear hole seemed to go suddenly very small and tight. Was it the threat of the thermometre or the touch of my finger? I slipped a hand between her legs and cupped her light-haired cunt in it. “I must also examine your fitness to receive chastisement by testing here, Claudia. I prefer not to cane a girl who is too greatly aroused. She may become hysterical or else manage to distract herself from being hurt. I think you like to masturbate, don't you, Claudia? How often do you play with yourself?”
All girls do so, Dolly, so the question is one which always has an answer. But almost always, as with Claudia, the confusion of the girl on being asked makes speech well-nigh impossible. “Answer, please, Claudia! Otherwise I must cane you and then send you back to your parents!” “I do it!” she gasped in her charmingly awkward English. “Where do you like to do it, Claudia?… In bed?… In the toilet?… In the bath?” She nodded submissively at each of these as I fondled her between the legs. “And when did you last play with yourself, Claudia?” “L-L-ast night!” The answer was gasped out after a pause. I knelt and began to nuzzle my lips over her lithe young thighs, for she had read that some “instrument” was applied here before punishment. Her knees being held apart, I feasted long on those two soft little swellings on the inner surfaces, just below the joining of her legs. I gave a little wash with my tongue. Claudia had just returned from the beach and so the soft flesh had the tang of the sea and the mineral tastes of a girl of fifteen.
Standing up again I manualised her cunt gently, under the pretext of looking for signs of her own masturbation. In five minutes more, Claudia was yielding her slippery love-dew. “Dear me,” I said severely, “You must have the medical speculum put up you, Claudia, in order that we may determine the extent of this moral disorder.” I assured her that the instrument would be warmed first, so that she might not cramp from the cold. Standing behind her, I guided the swollen knob of my erection between the rear of her thighs, parted the lips of her cunt with it, and felt myself grasped by a slippery velvet tightness. I had the greatest difficulty, Dolly, in not crying out with joy or panting hard. “We must probe you for five or ten minutes, Claudia. In the modem world, a whipping is a matter of careful science. It would never do for you to enjoy such a state between your legs when you have been brought here to suffer pain from the bamboo. We shall use the speculum to help you get such things out of your system before the caning begins.” Having delivered this load of claptrap, I began to ride gently in and out, trying to control my sounds of enjoyment as best I could. It was Claudia who came first, however. With rising whimpers of pleasure and sharper little cries, she scaled the peak of her ecstasy, squirming against the desk over which she was strapped, and yielding at last in a long, convulsive shudder. Picture me, Dolly, with my prick withdrawn and waving about, still stiff as a flagpole. I must bed it somewhere and spend-even if my reward should be the Pentonville gallows next day.
“Now the thermometre, Claudia,” I panted, “we must ensure that you have not overheated yourself.” I took a dollop of vaseline from the jar, touched it to Claudia's arsehole, and applied the knob.
I was so maddened that I obliged her to open almost at once- though with a sharp cry of alarm from the girl. Under various pretexts of taking her temperature, I buggered Claudia for ten minutes more, relishing the tightness of her adolescent arsehole round my shaft. The exercise evoked that rear view of her kneeling on all fours by the pier and presenting the smooth seat of her green bathing briefs.
Claudia's cropped hair twisted vainly to and fro as she tried to see exactly what this strange thermometre was. At last I released my spurting jet deep in her backside, causing her to cry out again with alarm at this sensation. How the devil would I explain the “accident” to her? I withdrew my prick and managed a forced laugh. “You little minx, Claudia!” I panted, “Why, you overheated the poor thermometre so much that some of the mercury spurted out through the little escape hole! How fortunate it was in your backside and not in your throat.”* Did she believe me, Dolly? I did not care then and, to be frank with you, I do not much care now. I have long thought that the only safety for me is to do as our friend Lord Frederick has done. When he left England and bought a plantation upon which “slaves” might still be held, I was half inclined to follow his example. When the “slaves” are girls of every prettiness, I cannot find a word to say against the system. Perhaps the authorities are more easy-going in Germany but here I often feel that my little enjoyments will one day put prison bars between me and the rest of the world-and I an officer and a gentleman! However, I am wandering from my subject. I now closed the drawer of the desk in order to strap Claudia's lithe young legs together. I took the long bamboo and swished it once or twice through the air for effect. Then I measured it across the firm young cheeks of Claudia's bare bottom. Oh, I assure you, Dolly, now I was the sternest of moralists with my prick at ease. And I was greatly enjoying it. “Keep your bottom quite still, Claudia. Don't tense the cheeks, you little bitch. You were keen enough to show your backside on the beach in those little green bathing pants weren't you, Claudia? Oh, yes you were. Fifty cuts of the bamboo across that nubile young backside, Claudia. I'm sure the teachers in the Dusseldorf classroom would envy me now.” I brought the bamboo down with an expert lash across the bare cheeks of the young nymph's bottom.
Claudia gasped at the agony of the naked smart. A splendid red stripe began to glow. I thrashed low down, where her softer buttocks and firmer thighs meet in a faint crease. Claudia cried out and I aimed with malicious excitement across that same stripe again-and again. My attentions raised a crimson weal across this place and drove her half frantic. Yet to increase the effect of the caning, I wanted the German nymph to feel that the bamboo had drawn blood in its first few strokes-and to fill her with horror at what lay ahead. She had asked for the cane
