In the warm afternoon, the two labouring girl-ponies began to perspire a little. Their cunts gave off a delicate mineral scent of feminine arousal. Very soon a faint, musty girl-scent also came from between the cheeks of Jackie's bottom. Mandy's perspiration between her arse-halves soon contributed to this.
Horse flies and mosquitoes sang eagerly around these savoury areas. The happy insects landed and fed, several at a time, in such veritable clusters. It was true that Jackie and Mandy had pony-tails attached to them, but these merely brushed to and fro across the very tops of their arses, leaving much of their buttocks and thighs without such a fly whisk.
To assist the girls in their plight, each groom armed himself with a broad, thin strap, divided into three tails at its end-the tawse which Miss M. had used upon Vanessa. The two men set up in competition to see which could swat the greater number of flies on the legs and bottom of the girl he attended. The first groom swung his strap with ringing smacks across the pale, fattened cheeks of Jackie's bottom and her thighs. The red spank marks soon blossomed from her waist to her knees. Jackie's arse was spangled with the remains of insects flattened by these blows.
Mandy was more agile and twisted more violently. The tawse sometimes caught her flanks in consequence. Yet Mandy's bottom and thighs received their fan- share of a severe strapping. Like Jackie, she was riven by the exquisite thrills between her legs and the smarting ordeal of the strap.
The grooms made the two young women stop for a moment. They now moistened the two love-purses with a thin coat of honey. How intriguing this was. Next the men took two small boxes, each containing a colony of saucy ants, and applied them to these parts of the girls' anatomies!
Can you guess the sequel? The ants began to sting lightly the cunt-lips and bottom cleavages of Jackie and Mandy. It was no punishment, merely the injection of the irritant acid into those most erotically sensitive crevices. The virulence of the itch and the swelling heat, the need for fondling and handling, turned Jackie and Mandy almost demented. All labour ceased. Each of them lay bottom-upwards over her yoke bar, squeezing her thighs hard and rhythmically on her love-slit, whimpering for the hand and penis of her groom.
You may be sure they would soon get their hearts' desire. Yet first there was a good deal of play about their disobedience. The first groom took his cane. Twenty or thirty whip strokes across the pale, fattish cheeks of Jackie's bottom, which the young blonde did not mind greatly, for it was the spur to her Venus-gallop. The second groom grinned at Mandy as she bent squirming piteously with longing over the bar. The firm young face, with its auburn waves to her bare shoulders, was pleading with desire. He gazed at her strong, broadened young hips, long sturdy legs, and Mandy's strapping, fifteen-year-old arse-cheeks.
Mandy had never had the cane before and she cried out under the first few strokes across her backside. Then her protests also sank to soft questioning whimpers of wanting and needing.
The two hours' labour became four hours… six… eight… Darkness fell over that remote part of the grounds. Quiet voices carried in the warm night air.
"Your cunt is so velvet-smooth, Jackie! Yet a swollen belly will make you run to fat, will it not? I shall withdraw. Turn over. Ah, you like the feel of the sperm coming in your bottom, Jackie, you randy young thing!… Lie back with legs open and make love to yourself, Mandy. Let me shine the light on you. Now thread yourself on my stiffness. How greatly you enjoy it, Mandy, even though Miss Martinet will cane your backside tomorrow for so long an absence. Does that add to your thrill, Mandy?…"
Such, Lizzie, are the sweet words which the summer night carries to
Your own adoring Charlie
LETTER 8
My dearest Charlie,
I hope you will not be vexed, my precious, at what I have done. Never before, upon my maiden honour, have I shown one of your sweet letters to another living soul. Nor would I have done so now had I not been so intrigued by the manner in which Jackie and Mandy were set to work as "girl-ponies" at Greystones! Such a charming image was conjured up in my mind by your account that I could scarcely rid myself of it.
I know you will forgive me for showing that portion of your letter to our generous Pasha of Ramallah. As you shall hear, my action provoked the most amusing results.
To my surprise, he knew all about such games. Indeed, he said, the sultans and pashas of the East had long been accustomed to employ some of their favourite concubines between the shafts of their little garden carriages. He cited so many instances in history, from Sultan Ibrahim of the Sublime Porte to Mulay Ishmael himself, that I could scarcely hold any further doubts in the matter.
"Not twenty miles from here lives Pasha Ibrahim," said he, "a wealthy patriarch of sixty summers. His harem is extensive and, like myself, he is a great lover of English and European beauty. The use of harness, as he calls it, is indispensable to the management of his girls, especially if one of them should prove difficult."
I listened agog, Charlie, for, though I could imagine that such things might happen behind harem walls, it was astonishing to be contorted so quickly with the proof of it.
"Then, sir," I said, "I suppose a great deal of privacy must surround these occasions. The good Pasha Ibrahim would guard such a secret closely."
The Pasha of Ramallah laughed. "Dear young lady! Why do you say so? All the world knows of the means he employs. In this country we think better of a man who is prepared to resort to such measures, provided he thinks them desirable. My brother Ibrahim opens his gardens on such an occasion to his intimate friends, just as he does on other days of hospitality."
Now, Charlie, you may be sure that I questioned our friend so long and so ingeniously about Ibrahim's pony-girls that he soon saw my intention.
"I believe, dear young lady, that you would be ever grateful to me if I could contrive your presence at one of these afternoon outings. Am I not right?"
He was so amused at finding me out, as he thought, that I could only confirm his suspicion as demurely as I knew how. Pray, give me credit, Charlie. You will remember well how I can counterfeit the faint maiden blush, the modest lowering of the gaze, the cloistered innocence of virtue upon these occasions.
"Very well," he said, "nothing could be easier than for you to accompany me in a day or two on my visit to the happy fellow. I happen to know that he has lately acquired a most rebellious young lass of fifteen, who is more than due for a lesson in obedience."
I need not say how I looked forward with the greatest curiosity to the day of that visit. It seemed best to say nothing of it to my dearest papa and mama, beyond telling them that I was to take tea with Ibrahim's ladies.
It was still morning when we arrived at Ibrahim's estate. Like our friend's, it is set in a green jewel of an oasis, remote from the city, its high surrounding walls well guarded to exclude intruders and immure the occupants. From the carriage window, as we passed along the drive, I was able to glimpse the ornamental pleasure gardens with their winding paths. A fine lake lay at the centre, quite half a mile long. Upon its shore stood replicas of small, pillared temples here and there, such as might have been built for Apollo or Jove, in the ancient world. Banks of mauve, silken-coloured flowers rose on either side, others rising flame-red or fierce blue in the brilliant sun. Elsewhere the trees provided deep, shady retreats where marble fountains played.