In the present case, Elke began to read aloud to the other girls, their eyes growing ever wider, though one or two still seemed mystified as to the events of the story. Noreen's master had entered the room to find the culprit strapped bottom-upwards in this posture, though the strong-jawed and fiery-eyed rebellion was still visible as she turned her gaze upon him. At every peephole in the walls of that room, at every crack and aperture, there was a listener or a watcher. It seems to be the universal opinion of mankind-if not womankind as well-that young women of Noreen's build and disposition merit the strictest retribution for this crime. From the old bosun to the newest cabin-boy they licked their lips and waited with smiling excitement. Many of them had suffered Noreen's impudence and contempt.
Here and there a youthful prick was already stiffening in a busy hand at the prospect of seeing the sturdy young slut get what was coming to her. Our young German girl-students read with some puzzlement that Noreen's master seemed not the least angry with her now. He spoke quietly and with laughter in his voice as he surveyed the two pale mounds of her broad young buttocks. Though he might promise her a smacked bottom with disciplinary leather when his arm was healed, he was in no state to administer such wholesome correction at the present. How, then, was he to teach Noreen a lesson in manners?
At this, too, our young pupils furrowed their pretty brows. Yet, as they read the tale or heard it from Elke, the cabin-boys and bosun gripped their stiff cocks harder and grinned with delight as they saw the drama which was developing. Noreen's master took a fine Havana, cut the end, and struck a match. His hand stroked the broad pale smoothness of Noreen's bare buttocks as he puffed the cheroot to a glowing tip of ash. Then he began to tease her. The listeners and peepers at the keyholes were at once gratified by a muffled shrillness from this well-built girl of nineteen. Our valiant captain drew the cheroot to vivid red and remarked that there was nothing like a well-stoked Havana for bringing the roses to Noreen's pale bottom-cheeks. They heard the dry squeak of leather as Noreen pulled vainly against her straps. But the captain merely chuckled.
“I vow you would break those straps if you could, Noreen! Such desperation. First, the left-hand cheek of your arse, Noreen. We shall begin there. Ah, yes! You would love to break free and create havoc, if you could! Have no fear, Noreen, the straps will hold you securely during your ordeal. Lie quite still, then. Don't try to squirm that fat young backside, Noreen!” (You may be sure, Freddie, that Elke and the others could not take their eyes from the pages which contained such dramatic incidents and speeches!) The first scorching kiss of the cigar upon the pale mound of Noreen's buttock was followed by a long and red-hot tickle, which drove her quite frantic. He allowed her a moment's respite, then the sparkling tip returned and traced an intricate pattern on that same sturdy cheek of Noreen's bottom. “Does that make your toes curl, Noreen? Does it?
Why, you would burst your eardrums with your shrillness if we had not wadded your mouth so well! How fortunate that you will not be free to tell tales of this little encounter to the world outside. A young trollop of nineteen with such a strapping young backside as yours, Noreen, is well able to stand a little touching-up. Lie quite still, Noreen! I shall rouge one arse-cheek quite outrageously before we proceed to the other.” Stiff with excitement, the grooms and servants who peeped, watched with widening eyes. The laughter had gone from the captain's voice. His mouth was tight and his eyes unsmiling as he circled the cherry-bright tip upon the broad young buttock. The escorts had tied Noreen's lank dark hair into a collar-length pony-tail, the better to show her face to her master during retribution. Under the level fringe, you may be sure that the firm features, the wide cheek-bones and the brown eyes had lost all their insolence as they reflected Noreen's wildness in her present predicament. When a pair of deeply blushing bottom-cheeks confronted him at last, nothing would do but the captain must stroke the cherry red between them, colouring up and down the arse-valley with a quick stippling motion. One must not, of course, draw too solemn conclusions from such an account-yet fiction is here entirely faithful to fact. Could one believe that the captain touched up Noreen merely with his finger-or with the “torture” of the feather which is so exquisitely applied to Alice by the hero of A Man with a Maid? You may be sure that Noreen's indignation at this would have been shrill enough to warrant a gag. The enforced tickling of the young woman's clitoris, the systematic masturbation, would have provoked her rage.
And, moreover, could the captain now resist the temptation of stretching Noreen's arsehole on his stiffness? All this would have been enough to cause the muffled rage and squirming, her desperation made all the worse by knowing that he would make her scream with pleasure before he had finished. Yet if the truth is to be believed, he continued his revenge until the Havana was a dead stub.
Withdrawing, he allowed a boy to enter, where Noreen of the glowing bum-cheeks still lay in her straps. The lad carried a handy jar of kitchen-fat which had been amply salted. Indeed, the spending of the boy himself had topped it. Taking it on his fingers he spread it on Noreen's blushing and smarting buttocks, until her rear cheeks shone with the grease and every fire of the punishment blazed up anew. As he withdrew the lad explained, smiling, that his master intended Noreen to spend the whole night in this state, so that she might ponder on her crime and the retribution exacted for it. You will understand, Freddie, what a pensive look this story brought to the faces of Elke, Claudia, and the others. Nor did the drama end there.
Though it might be only a story-who can tell?-they had seen Noreen with their own eyes and knew she was no insubstantial creation. I allowed the menservants to drop hints to the girls. The secrets of your own plantation (and Noreen's story) may be revealed now that we are safely out of Europe. It is natural that we entrust the papers to our friend Professor J- with freedom to publish when he thinks fit.* * Which he will shortly do for readers of this volume, Chez The Society of Private Bibliophiles, Rue du Faubourg Montmartre. It is enough to let our girls hear of Noreen's defiance and its cure.