Let me confess that, like Lizzie, Charlie, and the Pasha, I am a libertine. Our own pleasures and those of our companions form our rule of life. Yet compared with the moralists who infest this place, we are innocents indeed.
The young English Milord is a builder of empire, his place in the House of Peers awaiting him. He deals severely with warm-skinned beauties like Jennifer Khan or Nabyla Justo, over whom he will one day rule. Do you recall his frolic with Connie, the Chinese maiden, during Pasha Ibrahim's carriage exercise? It will not surprise you to learn that I glimpsed this young aristocrat, through one of my secret windows, exercise his skill upon the delectable Miss Carol Jolly. At twenty-years-old, she has the trim figure and sharp features of a lynx-eyed temple dancer. That warm, gold tan might be Grecian or Arabian, with sloping brow and nose, a short crop of lightly curled dark hair brushed upward. How slender the gold neck and the neat whorls of ears bare for kissing!
Her straight, slender back and neat breasts rise from a narrow waist. From her knees a pair of slim and outward-branching thighs rise to her trim but agile hips. When she bends or kneels forward, the tautly but lasciviously rounded cheeks of Miss Jolly's bottom are wantonly and deeply separated by her trim thighs' outward slope.
They tell me she first caught Milord's attention when he was a mere pupil who chanced to see her brushing a carpet on all fours-or was it polishing a harness-room floor? He was then only Master Henry, not Milord. Now, as I watched them, he had her at his absolute disposal. He liked to see Miss Jolly's trim figure in close-fitting singlet and even tighter riding jeans.
Sitting in his chair, he made her to kneel before him. The golden-skinned line of brow and nose, the meek mouth and chin, the tight-lidded almond eyes, were bowed to his trouser front. Raising her hips from her heels, going on all fours to give better suck, Miss Jolly's tongue ran over the penis knob and then took it in her mouth.
Her cheeks hollowed inward a little as she sucked eagerly upon his erection. The tight-lidded almond eyes and the high arch of her brows added their own appeal to the smooth Levantine gold of her complexion. He made Miss Jolly suck the penis for some while, before leading her to a low, padded stool fastened to the floor. Over this heavy support, he made her kneel on all fours, strapping her down upon it securely by her waist and wrists. From the rear, one admired the tight jeans, as they moulded the lasciviously rounded and delectably parted cheeks of Miss Jolly's bottom. Gently he pulled these pants down and her singlet up, fondling the neat, pale-gold cherry-topped breasts.
He pinioned her ankles and strapped her slim, tawny thighs together just above _the knees. Then, bowing down, he adjusted his mouth to the rearward pout of the love-purse at her thighs. He kissed the warm, coppery smoothness of her upper legs and then began to run his tongue pitilessly in her young vaginal slit. A randy young piece like Miss Jolly could not hope to conceal her feelings at this. The beautiful Turkoman mask of her face faltered in expressions of swooning ecstasy. From time to time, his lips browsed on the velveteen yellow-brown of the small of her back, on the coppery satin of her buttocks. Presently he pressed apart the smooth, copper-toned ovals of her bottom-cheeks. For ten minutes more, he moulded long, exploratory kisses to Carol Jolly's anus. Her dark, almond eyes widened and wandered in astonishment. Yet our randy little wriggler arched her waist down and opened her arse-crack more fully for this unusual attention!
The sequel was not in doubt, even before he unscrewed a jar of vaseline and spread a blob of it upon her tight, dark bum-button. Yet he was no barbarian who would put her to the sacrifice at once. Smiling at her knowingly, he first kissed her slanted, odalisque eyes, her high brow, her sharp young nose, her neat ears, and the nape of her neck, laid bare by her upward-brushed curls. But now he was resolute, determined to brook no refusal. Her mouth quivered as the hammerhead of his passion knocked for admission at the tight, inward dimple between her buttocks. She gave a gasp, then a short, hollow cry. Milord's mouth was set tight as he pressed, and the veins of his forehead swelled a little as he forced Miss Jolly's arse, obliging her to strain to accommodate his bulk. Kissing her ear and whispering to her encouragingly in his smiling way, he now threaded deeper. She gave a little fluttering call of dismay at the deepness of his penetration. Then he was embedded to the hilt between the pale Arabian-gold cheeks of Carol Jolly's bottom! One could understand the alarm in her eyes when one saw how hard her arse-hole was stretched 'round the base of his stout phallus.
He began to sodomise Miss Jolly gently at first, smiling in his triumph at her timorous backward almond-eyed glances. There was misgiving in the feline ellipse of her dark eyes, in conflict with a certain morbid excitement at the sensations he was provoking inside her. Presently, she bowed her crop of dark ringlets and hollowed her waist down to open her behind more fully and take him deeper. Then the lascivious young piece began to copulate with her arse, moving her hips to match her lover's rhythm.
Was it pure randiness? I think it may have been! Yet she perhaps wished also to spur him on to completion before soreness overtook whatever thrills she was now having. So Milord, teeth set in passion's fit, pumped his lust deep and true into Miss Jolly's trimly rounded backside.
You think I have deceived you? You think he is a mere libertine like the rest of us? Not a moralist at all? You are quite mistaken. In a moment you will see Milord Henry worthy of imperial greatness.
Now, in a cooler mood, he sees how such a golden-skimmed temptress deserves retribution for seducing a young proconsul from his duty. He takes a two-foot cord whip, with wooden handle, and goes to release a long-held flow of dinner water. Milord and his kind have strong appetites. Returning, the whipcord well soaked, he teases Miss Carol Jolly by drawing it lightly across her pale-gold buttocks, which tighten with instinctive fear at the wet menacing caress! He calls her a randy little piece, again, and a lascivious little wriggler. Are these not high crimes against imperial morality? Do they not merit a whipping? Observe her, moreover! See how lewdly she kneels over the stool! The taut and saucy roundness of Miss Jolly's bottom-cheeks, well parted by her branching thighs and hollowed waist, is cause alone for the whip.
With a crack-smack! the wet whipcord snakes across the cheeks of her bare backside. The tight-lidded almond eyes grow wide, and Miss Carol Jolly screams at the naked anguish of the bottom-flogging. How bitterly she must rue having opened her arse so fully for copulation and now, being tightly strapped, unable to tense its cheeks together! Whip!… Whip! Whip-smack!…Crack-smack!… Whip-crack-smack! Her shrill cries are matched by the raised weals and ruby trickles upon her behind. A dozen strokes and the overture is scarcely complete. A dozen more and only the first act of the drama has passed. Then a variation: can he resist a well-aimed crack-shot or two between Miss Jolly's buttocks, the whipcord seeking out her most intimate arse anatomy? It seems he cannot!
There is, however, an entr'acte in the drama-be sure the drama it will resume presently-in order to make the punishment last longer. Our devotee lights his cheroot and takes his leisure. He kneels behind his pretty culprit, who turns her brimming almond eyes upon him. Milord draws the Havana to cherry brightness. He shows her this and thereby causes unprecedented panic in the features of the lynx-eyed young beauty. For so absolute an imperialist, there is a suggestive association between the cherry tip of a glowing cheroot and the bare, coppery cheeks of Carol Jolly's bottom! To be sure, not all imperialists regard the matter in this light. To some, the sacrifice of Havana is unthinkable. Does not Mr. Kipling tell us that a woman is only a woman but a good cigar is a smoke? Heedless of such advice, Milord's arm steadies her 'round the waist. He touches the shimmering glow to the pale, Arabian-gold smoothness of one of Carol Jolly's bottom-cheeks, touching and stroking lightly. He answers her protests with promises to colour up her seat-cheeks and cause her backside to blush so deeply that it will be a week before the embarrassment fades.