Indeed, said the reverend doctor, Elke had even stuffed her knickers in her mouth to stifle her cries of excitement. But worse than all this, she had indulged in great and extreme indecency. Some lad-perhaps even one of the doctor's own charges-had pumped his sperm over her at Elke's instigation. He had Lady Loosely's word for it.
Indeed, when Elke was stripped for the birch, as she surely would be, I might see with my own eyes. Happily, Dolly, I had already been privately informed of the afternoons events and this made the comedy all the riper. Elke Mahne stood before me, the high-boned prettiness of her sulky, heart-shaped young face lowered, the lank brown hair falling forward a little. She could not confess the truth of her conduct that afternoon. To do so would be to incur even worse punishment than that which already threatened. But unless she confessed the truth, she could not explain why, in the present state of her adolescent bottom, a birching would be the most appalling torture imaginable. “She must have her backside thrashed, sir!” said Dr. Thwackum from his chair. “Depend upon it, the slut must be thrashed.” I nodded. “To be sure she must, sir. Fifty strokes of the birch across her fat young bottom-cheeks-with her pants down!” “No!” It was Elke's wild beseeching cry which filled the room, “No! Oh, please! Not that! Not tonight! Tomorrow, if you like!
Whatever you like tomorrow! But not tonight! Not yet!” I knew quite well the cause of her wildness and truly relished her predicament. If there was one girl among them all who really deserved what was coming, it was an insolent ill-mannered young whore like Elke. “You will be birched tonight, Elke,” I said firmly, “It is absurd to think that we might postpone it until tomorrow. We do not carry forward our accounts. Perhaps there may be some other offence which causes you to be caned or whipped tomorrow. In that case, we could hardly birch you as well. Dr. Thwackum is quite right. You must be thrashed, and it shall be this evening.” Elke shook her head in wondering horror. It was Dr. Thwackum who intervened. “Permit me, sir. It would be presumptuous in me to offer advice in other circumstances. However, since 'twas I who discovered this young tart and saw the state of her debauchery, I trust you will allow me to speak. Ahem! I should esteem it a great privilege if you would permit me to deal with the fat-bottomed young bitch in this case. There is no man, sir, who can wield the birch with such effect as the headmaster of a great English school. There is none who has such intimate acquaintance with the bare and spread arse-cheeks-that is to say, posterior regions-of the nation's youth. I would venture to suggest that if left alone in the games room, with Elke Mahne horsed over the vaulting buck, I should inflict such chastisement as would leave her a changed girl by tomorrow morning!” I could not for a moment doubt his ardour and sincerity, Dolly. Indeed, had not the pedagogue held his top-hat over his lap, I fear the stiffness in the front of his pants must have caused some embarrassment to him. I thought for a moment. The fine old moralist had been trying for weeks to gain my consent to such a thing. He seemed determined to get to the bottoms of my girls one way or another. Why not let him have a go at Elke? It would at least remove the danger that I should find the arse-cheeks of my own red-haired maid, Sian, cut to ribbons. To tell the truth, I had no other plans for Elke. Let the good doctor see to her. “I should count it an honour, sir, to have your assistance in the matter,” said I. What else I would have said was overwhelmed, Dolly. For on hearing these first words, Elke Mahne shrieked with horror! Now, Dolly, you and I know how much of an actress such a girl can be. Not least when the dramatic tragedy is one which threatens a whipping in reality. Elke covered her face with her hands and let out the most piteous sobs. Yet even I could see that she was peeping slyly through her fingers to calculate the effect of this upon me and that the little bitch was quite dry-eyed! The large exercise-room next to my study is well-equipped with gymnastic devices and was in every respect an admirable place for Dr. Thwackum to practise his moral art. I may also tell you, in confidence, that by sliding a certain little panel across on my own side of the wall, a glass tile the size of a small window is uncovered. It appears to be part of the wall-glazing on the gymnastic side. However, when the bright overhead lights illuminate that side, and my own study remains in darkness, the glass tile affords me a perfect view of the antics in there. I had never intended it for the present purpose, of course, but merely to enjoy the sight of several delectable nymphs at their healthy exercise. Elke walked ahead of her chastiser into that place. Turning her bell of light brown hair from time to time as she walked, she shot him glances of outrage, fear, self-pity, and guile.
All in vain, for the venerable scholar had his gaze fixed upon the two softly moving cheeks under the tight jeans-denim. Once or twice as she looked back, the sly hazel eyes shed an easy tear over the high cheek-bones of her moodily pretty face. The pouting lips made little kissing movements of self-pity and then her mouth was drawn down like a tragic mime as they approached the padded leather vaulting-buck.
Dr. Thwackum locked the door so that they should not be interrupted. He took off his black coat and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. Then Elke was made to undo her jeans and take them off, also the stretched cotton briefs of her panties. Our stern moralist told her to mount astride the padded leather with her young arse almost jutting back over the rear end of it. He made her lie forward very tightly along it and strapped her wrists to the forelegs of the wooden structure, as far down them as the girl could reach. Pulling the hem of her black woollen singlet up to her ribs, he fastened the waist-belt round her bare skin. Last of all he had only to strap her ankles securely to the rear legs of the buck- and there she was.
Straddling the padded leather, thighs and bum-cheeks well parted, rump thrust back for his attention, Elke was perfectly positioned for what came next. As if about to join in some gymnastic exercise himself, the venerable headmaster stripped off his shirt, gaiters, and breeches, until he stood only in a cream woollen body-vest and short pants. His withered old shanks and slack belly were clearly evident.
Elke screwed up her pretty face and gave another dry-eyed and self-pitying little sob. Dr. Thwackum stood by her, the bulge in his woollen pants almost level with her face. Elke gave another questioning little whimper, forming her lips into a pout again but this time kissing the woollen bulge. “Please!” she murmured with an ingratiating little whine. Dr. Thwackum coloured a little, no doubt at this outrage to decency. Yet the gnarled old penis had a will of its own for it seemed to part the vent of his pants and stand out rigidly. Elke gave another soft pleading little whimper and touched her mouth to the empurpled knob. She moved her extended tongue in a light and rapid rhythm on the knob's underside, causing it to jerk with ecstasy. Even the strictest moralist is not always immovable. As if compelled by some exterior force, Dr. Thwackum took a step closer. Elke let out a long and grateful “Ahhhh!” She closed her mouth over the old man's prick and sucked up and down it for a moment.