He touched the cane across her trim and well-spread buttocks, while Julie writhed hard against the wooden steps of the ladder. At first I thought she was squirming in panic. But then, Maude, I saw that she was squeezing herself hard and lasciviously between her slender thighs. The randy little bitch was trying to finish off what the man's fingers had begun! To think that I might have chosen such a girl as lady of the manor! The only place for Julie is as the slave of the most lecherous tyrant. Yet the scene I now witnessed was shrill and raw enough to tear my nerves this way and that so that I trembled fit to drop. The man touched the cane lightly across the tensing and rounding cheeks of Julie's bottom. He thrashed once and made her gasp with the searing smart. He aimed low across her fat little bottom-cheeks and brought the cane down with a report like a pistol-shot. Julie screamed and bucked frantically against the ladder and the restraints. “Now you get twelve low across your bottom, Julie, where it really hurts!” said the chastiser softly. The very air whooped with the thrash!… thrash!… thrash!… of the cane. Julie shrieked and writhed with good reason. Her pert little bottom bore some splendid raised weals of bamboo. Three of them had interlaced so cruelly that the first ruby droplet welled up and trickled down the back of her slender thigh. The other men congratulated the chastiser on this evidence of his skill. “Lay into the little bitch!” said one of them. “She's needed it for a long time! Teach her a lesson in manners!” You may be sure he did! At one moment her screams were so shrill that one of the other men held Julie's head and pressed his hand over her mouth. It must have been a rare sensual experience for this fellow to have his hand over her mouth-one finger between her lips-as the cane whipped and whipped across Julie's bottom-cheeks, raising thin blueberry weals and then thrashing these till wine-red trickled. As Julie tried to force her screams through the covering hand, her tongue constantly licked and wetted his fingers as if in some lewd caress. They took her punishment far beyond anything which a reformatory would permit. At length, her head drooped. The fine-spun golden-blond hair broke from its little top-knot into a spreading veil. Half swooning under the bottom-punishment of the bamboo, Julie drooled through the fingers of the man who held his hand over her mouth. Even this, I believe, was done deliberately by the little minx to seduce him, for he made her take it back again. Indeed, now that the caning was over, Julie lay bottom-upwards over the ladder in the most abandoned manner. Her pert little bottom cheeks were in a sorry state and she writhed piteously.
And yet, Maude, this writhing was sly and passionate self-love. As she lay strapped over the ladder Julie's slender thighs squeezed herself to climax, finishing what the man's fingers had begun. She did it quite shamelessly in front of them, ending with those short hard cries which have only one cause. They did not bother to pull Julie's pants up. Where she was going, she would not need them. Another sack was brought. A gag was slipped into her mouth. Her wrists were pinioned behind her and her ankles bound. Now it was Julie who was tumbled in, arse-upwards, and the neck of the sack tied securely with a leather thong. A few minutes later the lights in the rooms went out and the four men emerged into the street. The two brawniest carried a sack each on their backs. Passers-by noticed only wrigglings and muffled mewings from the sacks, as if the two ruffians were disposing of unwanted kittens. The sacks were lowered into the luggage boot of the closed van. The lid was closed on the mewlings and squirmings and the van drove off. When I recovered my wits I found the door of my lodging had been unlocked as mysteriously as it was first fastened. Only upon my arrival home did my nerves give way at last. I was alternately distraught over the loss of Julie and then intrigued at the thought of being the harem master of two such girls.
The older women of the palace should prune Sian's randiness a little.
And how I would love to have Julie bottom-upwards over such a step-ladder! Yet I dare not breathe these thoughts to Dr. Raspail…
Your loving but prostrate cousin Augustus Anonymous Augustus and Lady Maude XV. Lady Maude to Augustus Lago di Garda, 11 July My dearest Augustus, Your letter this morning, with its account of the magical “disappearance” of Julie and Sian in the two sacks, lightened my heart a good deal. Of course you must feel “put out,” as they say, that your little bitch Julie has been made off with in such a manner.
All the same, the thought that the young whore Sian's bottom-cheeks are to be regularly whipped and salted by a stern master must give you some consolation. The hope which I draw from your letter is in the sensible attitude you show towards what has happened to Julie. Now do not pretend with me, Gussie, for I know you too well! Once they had Julie's skimpy little panties down, did you not enjoy watching some of the things they did to her? Of course you are dismayed at losing her.
But since you had lost her anyway, I believe it excited you a good deal to see her tanned and enjoyed by the men. In all this philosophy of yours towards her, I see you about to emerge as the man of sense and reason. Do let us hope so. Mr. Bowler paid us a brief visit here the other day on his way back to England. You know he has hired a grouse moor for the shooting in August-land in Kinross belonging to the Dowager Lady Lockie. In order to have everything prepared for his guests on the Glorious Twelfth when the first birds are slaughtered, it was necessary for him to return. I shall expect good reports of you from him. In your new frame of mind, I am sure you will want to hear of an amusing little adventure which occurred as Mr. Bowler was passing through. It relates to our little nymph Marit, the Scandinavian girl-student, who seems lovelier every day. I do not deceive myself in this at all. Though she is only fifteen as yet, Marit will be a calm and perfect beauty in a few years more. Her lightly suntanned face has the smoothest, the most velvety peachlike softness you could imagine. I see such perfection of shape as well, rather the form of a shield or a heart. Her nose is so pretty and short, her mouth full and beautiful but with the most elegant lips. You never saw blue eyes so open and steady, nor such silken tresses of brown hair worn just over her collar. I have maintained my system of requiring Marit to bend through the hatch for inspection each morning and evening. Even if it were not strictly necessary in the interests of morality, how could one resist the chance to pull down Marit's silky knickers and survey her narrow adolescent thighs, her slim hips and the almost elfin trimness of her bottom-cheeks? Sometimes I prefer that Miss Jones should carry out the investigation and sometimes I reserve Marit's charms for my own fondling and stroking. During the few days of Mr. Bowler's presence at the Villa Lola, I saw no reason to alter this arrangement.
I had mentioned something of it to him but, of course, he acted like a man of honour and respectability. Such dealings with Marit, he assured me, were women's work. As a worthy landowner or magistrate in England, as a most successful man of commerce, he entirely approved such moral supervision of our Norwegian beauty but it would be unseemly for him to take part in it. Matters remained like this until the evening before his departure. It was after dinner, at about nine o'clock, with the last rippling light of day fading from the lake, when young Marit bent herself as usual through the hatchway and its partition was lowered upon her back. The weather was so balmy, the eucalyptus and thyme so fragrant, that I had decided to take a stroll along the garden path under the pergola which enjoys a view across the lake towards Malcesine. A million fireflies danced in the warm twilight of the Gardonese, while the cicadas rasped among the flowers and shrubs.
I had deputed Miss Jones to deal with Marit. You may be sure that our almond-eyed young wriggler was only too glad of the chance to fondle another girl's nest instead of being always busy with her own!