After a moment, Frances took the girl up in her arms and placed her, with her petticoats up, and her drawers down, in a kneeling position on a chair beside her brother; so that I had a good view of the two well-whipped little bottoms. Both were very red, and also much wealed, but Dora’s was far more marked, and sore-looking than Robert’s; and her dazzlingly white little thighs contrasted strongly with the scarlet cheeks of her bottom. The boy had ceased crying, but the girl continued to weep, her sobs shaking her plump little buttocks. I compared the two small posteriors, noticing the boy’s bottom though round and chubby, was not nearly so broad or so plump as the girl’s. As soon as Dora’s wailing had somewhat subsided, Frances lifted her off the chair, and placed her on her feet with her face turned towards the curtains. Then she again raised the girl’s petticoats above her waist, and took hold of her drawers; but before pulling them up, she paused for a few moments, glancing, with a sly smile, in the direction of the curtains, — she evidently wished to show me Dora’s small “spot.”
I had never seen such a miniature cunt! It was a delicious little thing, with wee pink lips without a vestige of down; and it looked just like a tiny slit in her white little belly. When Frances thought I had seen enough, she fastened up the girl’s drawers, and untied her wrists; at the same time telling the boy to button up his knickerbockers. He did so; and then she sent them both back to the schoolroom, the girl sobbing, and she moved her legs stiffly when she walked.
To me, a “lover of the rod,” the whole affair had been most pleasing; as it had been a charming spectacle of real birch discipline; and, as a matter of course, I had a stiff erection. Frances threw herself down upon the sofa, and I came from behind the curtains with my cock standing straight out, as I had already unbuttoned my trousers. Frances laughed when she saw me approaching her with rampant prick, and at once settled herself well down upon her back to receive the attack.
Without a word, I raised her petticoats, and stretched out her willing legs; then folding her in my arms, I pressed my lips to her mouth, thrust my prick into her cunt, and poked her with intense delight; making her bound, and squeak, and wriggle under me, from the first dig until the supreme moment when we both “spent” in the voluptuous spasm. Then we lay, hugging and kissing, and mutually pleased with each other.
As soon as we had arranged our disordered attire, Frances locked up the rod in the cabinet, and we sat down to rest, and also to talk over the affair. Frances began: “Well, are you pleased with the way I whipped the children?”
“Very much pleased,” I replied. “You handled the rod gracefully and skilfully; and you birched the youngsters smartly, but not too severely.” She smiled, pleased at my complimenting her on her skill as a “whipper.”
“Hasn’t Dora got a delicate skin? You saw how much it got marked by the rod, and you heard how she screamed while she was being whipped, but I really did not birch at all hard. If I had, the blood would have soon come. She has not the least fortitude, and she always makes a great outcry.” Then she added, laughing: “I showed you more than her pretty bottom. Did you ever see such a little ‘thing’ before?”
“No, never!” I answered. “Nor have I ever seen so young a girl birched. She has a lovely little bottom; and you must manage-as long as I am in town-to let me be present whenever you whip her.”
“Oh, I’ll always let you know when I am going to turn her up; but I am pretty sure I shall not have to do so for weeks to come. The birching she has had to-day will keep her in order for a long time. She does not much mind a spanking, but she dreads the rod.”
We now had a little chat on various subjects; then at Frances’ own request, I took her across my knees, and gave her a smart little spanking: and I finished up the afternoon’s amusements by poking her “en levrette,” as she leant over the back of an easy-chair.
She then went up to dress for dinner; and I went up to the bedroom which was always at my service whenever I wanted to wash my hands or brush my hair.
When I returned to the drawing-room, I found Miss Martin there alone. We shook hands cordially, for we had become very friendly, as I was the friend of the family, and also Mrs. Markham’s “old guardian.” Miss Martin was a jolly sort of woman; not exactly pretty, bat she was nice to look at, as she had fine, hazel eyes, abundant brown hair, white teeth, and a plump, shapely figure; she was also very tastefully dressed. She sat down in an easy-chair, leaning back in an unconstrained position, and as her skirt was a little raised, I could see her trim ankles, cased in brown silk stockings, and her neat feet in high-heeled shoes.
She was a good talker, and had travelled a good deal on the Continent with her former employers; but I had an idea that she had not always been a governess. We conversed on sundry topics for a short time, and then we spoke about the children. Miss Martin knew that they had both been whipped that afternoon; but she did not know that I was cognizant of the fact, and of course she had not the faintest suspicion that I had been present at the punishment; nor had she any idea that I was in the habit of poking Mrs. Markham.
She informed me that they were both bright, clever children, but rather difficult to manage. Then I asked, in a most innocent manner: “Do you approve of corporal punishment for children?”
“I do most certainly,” she replied without the least hesitation. “For girls as well as boys?” I queried
“Yes. Girls should be whipped whenever they are naughty. They are often more troublesome than boys. I mean little boys. I have no experience with boys over ten years of age.”
“Dear me!” I said in affected surprise, “I did not think that girls were ever subjected to corporal punishment nowadays.”
Miss Martin smiled. “Oh yes, they are in some schools, and also in some families,” she remarked.
It was a curious subject for us to discuss, but as she did not seem to be at all diffident, I thought I would ask a few more questions,
“What, in your opinion, is the best way of punishing a naughty girl?”
“I think there is no better way of punishing a naughty girl than to give her a good whipping with a birch rod in the old-fashioned way,” she replied in the coolest manner.
I had some difficulty in preventing myself laughing at the plain way in which the governess had spoken. Then I said: “I suppose you have had a great deal of experience?”
“Yes,” she replied. “I have been a family governess for seven years, and during that period, I have used the rod whenever my employers would allow me to do so. But some ladies I have lived with would not permit me to whip their children; nor would they whip the children themselves.”
The subject then dropped; and in a few moments Frances tripped into the room, smiling and fresh, as well as faultlessly dressed, and we went in to dinner, which was a good one, as usual.