The two valets unfastened her and led her away. Elaine walked with her skirt and knickers in her hand, unable to wear them in her present state. The forlorn young mouth relaxed from its sobbing dejection and the weeping was less copious. Her head was still bowed a little in self-pity, her gentler wailing accompanied by the brushing-away tears with the edge of her hand. She walked slowly and uncomfortably. One could not begin to count the number of swollen weals from the bamboo that crossed her tomboy buttocks.
As she passed the onlookers, Ibrahim explained that another such punishment lesson would be given her in a few weeks' time.
You may imagine Elaine looking 'round at us, the broad oval of her face a study in dismay, as she tossed back her long fair hair. Make no mistake, several of the spectators craned forward to catch her gaze. It seems they wanted Elaine to see their eyes wide and mouths open in amazement and delight at what was going to happen to her.
Do you deplore this as the vindictive lechery of the harem? Believe me, Charlie, it is no less common among our educators and moralists at home. As Lord Byron remarks to them when they execute vengeance upon a pair of shapely buttocks, "'Tis well your cassocks hide your rising lust." Had you but seen the sight in the reformatory punishment room on the night before Elaine was shipped into harem slavery, you would need no further argument. On that last evening, she was strapped over the block on all fours, as if for judicial caning. The justices sat smiling in their chairs to watch. The master, grave-faced in his shirtsleeves, carried the bamboo.
You might have thought it a lesson in moral discipline. And so it was but for one thing. Elaine would be going to a place from which she would never return to tell tales! All restraint upon the moralists was removed. It was a year ago when she had much the appearance she has now.
The eight magistrates were rotund figures of about fifty. They went in two by two at first. Elaine's skirt and pants were lowered. By talk of whips and cigar tips, she was made compliant. One man knelt before her and she sucked his grey-haired cock. The other knelt at the rear, seduced by the full, pale cheeks of Elaine Cox's fourteen-year-old bottom. Four in succession sodomised the schoolgirl tomboy, four more obliging her to swallow love's potion. Her virginity was kept for the market-place.
Three dozen with the cane across her sturdy, bare backside. Then, since no one would ever know, the pony-lash! A savage half-hour. Elaine Cox, screaming and twisting, saw only stiff, grey-haired pricks and smiles of delight. Such is the influence of moral discipline! Lads from the adjoining boys' reformatory risked life and limb, shinning up to peer in at the high, barred windows. As the thirty-six allotted bamboo strokes were given across the cheeks of Elaine's arse, the lads grinned knowingly at her. She was the permitted spy at their masturbation rituals, the young slut who sucked off the winner of the bare-knuckle boxing. When, her buttocks wealed by the bamboo, the whip was chosen in addition, not one of them would have gone to her aid. They too were longing to see Elaine taken all the way into that darker region which lies far beyond the limit of any punishment. To her screams as her bottom was skinned they replied with priapic delirium, each lad pumping his organ until his eyes rolled back and the gruel jetted wildly out. Was this truly superior to the example of the harem?
At dinner we were waited upon by two of Ibrahim's fourteen-year-old nymphs. Valerie was a slim gamine, with a short, auburn crop and a slender figure. Linda appeared so a soft, sensuous little blonde, with sly, blue eyes, a short mane of fair hair, and a sniggering manner. I cannot say which of these two slipped a note under my plate informing me that they and other beauties had been abducted and were now unwilling bed slaves of the pasha. I was beseeched to convey this news to London. A gunboat might then blast the palace of Ibrahim to pieces and carry home the little minxes in triumph!
Be sure I know my duty! I handed the note to Ibrahim at once. He thanked me gravely, promising me that, in the coming night, Linda and Valerie should be birched for five minutes each time the clock struck. I begged only that he would make it ten minutes!
You approve my action, Charlie? Think what a scandal would result from the note written by these little sluts! The pashas are our loyalist allies! Imagine the fate of poor Papa-and he only just accoutred with an ambassador's cocked hat and plumes! Britannia may have her faults, but she knows better than lesser nations the importance of avoiding such imprudent disclosures!
I was not much disturbed that night by agreeable images of the plump, pearly little moons of Linda's bottom under the bamboo. It is no worse than discipline in many an English home. Thus I take my adoring leave of you, dearest Charlie. Your next news is eagerly awaited by
Your ever-loving Lizzie
LETTER 9
My own dearest Lizzie,
My heart leapt for joy when an envelope came bearing upon it your own unmistakable hand. I read your bold account of the good Sultan Ibrahim and his novel method of carriage propulsion! It is true, my sweet, there are young termagants like Elaine who, by every moral right, should be put to discipline of this kind. Almost all the educators and justices of England would agree with me in that.
By the same token, one respects a wife who is loyal to her husband and duties. Once she transgresses, however, is there any reason for trying to shield her from the ravishing of the world?
In my own small way, I too have had a victory over a recalcitrant girl. I speak of our young trollop Noreen. But what insolence still dwells in those hard, pale features and brown eyes.
The other night, Miss Martinet, aided by her staff, was awarding discipline to certain strapping young wenches like Noreen. The procedure for this is, indeed, singular. There is a long bench over which the girls kneel, presenting a row of tightly clad backsides. Their wrists are strapped to a rail on the far side, so that they kneel over the bench on all fours. Lastly, a long screen is lowered from a rail to the backs of their waists, so that they cannot see who stands behind them.
That night it was Miss Martinet who walked down the row. She indicated the fate of each delinquent, for the benefit of the grooms, by chalking on the tightly clad seat-cheeks. Thus a number chalked on the left cheek indicated strokes to be given by the person responsible. A number on the other half showed the preliminary to be given by a groom with a gym-shoe heel.
I vowed to curb Noreen's ill-mannered conduct. So, as Miss M. walked down the line, I watched closely. She strolled up and down the row several times. Pausing she applied the chalk to the robust young cheeks of Maggie's seat and inscribed the numbers "20" and "12." A moment more and she drew "30" and "12" where a pan- of tight, grey pants was strained over the full, young cheeks of Susan Underwood's bottom. Sue, with her soft, blond beauty, was a girl whom it would be a pleasure to get into trouble. So it went on until the tour of duty was complete. To my dismay, however, Noreen was un-chalked!
The remedy for that was simple. The curtain had been arranged so that the culprits could not see who was chalking them. It was also intended to prevent a groom with a grudge from adding to the punishment of a girl with whom he had a quarrel. In this case, however, Noreen was easily identifiable. The collar length of her dark hair was concealed as she lay over the bench. Yet, in kneeling over it, she offered an unmistakable alternative profile. The pale jeans seat was taut across her firm, statuesque buttocks, the central seam drawn taut and deep into her arse-crack. The lower softness of her bum-cheeks almost closing over the seam could belong to only one of the miscreants.