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 pumping his inhaler. Who would believe so upright a man to be a martyr to asthma? At last Dr. Thwackum seemed suddenly to overcome his moral grief at Elke's filthy conduct. He strained up abruptly and his hips arched forward a little. There was a long gasp and a shudder as the great man composed his mind once more. (My informants, by the way, apologised for an error. They thought Lady Loosely had mopped the sperm from Elke's bum-cheeks and thighs. Now they saw they were quite wrong. She was still spangled with it when Dr. Thwackum stepped aside.) He studied the state of Elke's bottom carefully and smiled quietly at the scarlet and smarting cheeks. There was no doubt that he intended to birch her without pity. Yet his position was, to say the least, equivocal. What repercussions might follow the birching of a girl on a public beach by the headmaster of one of our great public schools?
A frown of concern furrowed his noble brow for a moment longer.
And then Dr. Thwackum, Canon of Long Sarum, bared his teeth in a grin of triumph. He is not only one of our greatest moralists and educators, but also the most cunning devil who ever failed to win a Fellowship at All Souls. Can you guess what happened, Dolly?
Possess yourself in patience a few hours more. I shall write again by the next post. Your loving Jack.
SEVEN
A delicious comedy with Elke as its victim-Dr. Thwackum brings the well-fucked fraulein back.-His moral outrage at her conduct-The reverend gentleman offers Jack a service-He will birch Elke forthwith using a severity unknown outside our great public schools-Elke's bottom already untouchably sore-Bur she cannot reveal this truth without explaining why and earning worse punishment-Jack's great amusement at her predicament- Elke horsed and birched by Dr.
Thwackum-Her long ordeal-Prick first, birch later -Dr. Thwackum's nightly visits to her to be continued. Dearest Dolly, I would not willingly have left you in suspense. Yet my last letter was of such length and took almost the entire morning to compose.
Therefore I had to break off and attend to my duties here for several hours. This evening I find leisure to continue. As I have told you, Dr. Thwackum had devised in his subtle mind a scheme for enjoying Elke Mahne. It was a far more ambitious lechery than the mere pleasure of a single birching given summarily on the sea shore! He unfastened the girl, made her pull her pants up, and brought her back to me in his own carriage. You see? By comparison with all the others involved, was he not the great moralist? Elke was already in trouble for it was past eight in the evening and she was exactly two hours late. But imagine how my anger grew as she stood before my desk and Dr. Thwackum puffing his cigar in the leather chair told me the story. The little whore had been spying on the schoolboys, unable to take her eyes away for fear of losing a glimpse of penis! She had taken her own pants down and bent with them round her ankles-the easier to masturbate, no doubt, as she viewed each schoolboy's cock!