I was thinking fast now. Here I was in this strange woman's home, naked, in the most compromising position and being literally invited to “go down” on her without the slightest indication that she would reciprocate. How, I wondered, was I going to get out of this fix?
True, I wasn't the slightest bit afraid of her; I was too famous to think for a moment that anyone would dare lay a hand on me. I just did not want to be caught in any traps. Blackmail was far too prevalent at that time for me not to know the pitfalls one can so easily walk into. No, indeed! If I were to do this woman's bidding, then she must return the favors bestowed upon her.
I have always tried to live a Christian life (that may seem strange coming from me, but it's true) though I had long since given up the idea that prayers could be of any possible assistance to me, but that afternoon an unspoken prayer was answered. I had been taxing my brain for a way out of the present difficulty when the curtains parted, admitting a girl. It was the same beautiful creature who had removed my stockings, and like myself, she was completely naked.
"Molly is ready, madam,” she said in a low voice.
"You have prepared the whip?” asked the countess, relieving me of her leg and sitting up.
The girl nodded. “Everything is ready, madam."
"Very well,” she said, by way of dismissal. Turning to me, the countess said, “Would you like to be in the room when I inflict the punishment, or would you rather remain here and watch through the curtains? I am sure the latter would be the best; Molly would be sure to respond with far greater freedom if she thought she didn't have an audience."
I was thinking fast. “I believe I would much rather remain here-if the punishment room is close by."
"The next room,” she said, indicating the heavy curtains at the far side. She rose and walked toward them in what I thought was an abrupt manner. Turning just before passing between the drapes, she said, “I shall have the couch drawn close to the curtains, that you might recline while watching."
Then, as though they had been waiting for that very signal, two girls entered the room and, without a word, moved the couch, with me still upon it, close to the curtains. One of these girls was the one who had announced Molly's readiness, and you may rest assured signals again passed between us before she and her companion left the room.
Leaning forward and carefully parting the curtains, I gazed into the next room. It was a strange place, if ever I saw one. All about were strange pieces of furniture, if one may call devices such as these furniture. There were pulleys, strange-looking benches and chairs, all equipped with straps.
There was an affair not unlike one seen in workshops-what is known as a “horse” on which mechanics saw boards, though instead of the flat top, it was almost knife sharp. I was to learn afterward that this unusual piece of furniture was known as the “Berkley Horse,” a very wicked and cruel affair, to say the least. However, that strange thing had little or nothing to do with what I was about to witness.
The countess, when I gazed through the curtains, was pulling on a glove. This, I was to learn later, was for the purpose of protecting her palm against the ravages of the whip handle, a wooden affair of the type commonly used in northern Russia.
This adjusted to her satisfaction, she picked up the long-lashed “knout” and flicked it wickedly through the air. A shudder passed through me! “Could it be possible,” I thought, “that she intended to use this wicked instrument on a girl?"
My speculations were cut short, however, by the appearance of the girl Molly, who had served us the wine.
And here I was to witness what I believe was the strangest affair I had ever heard of. And then, as though the devil himself was looking out for me and reading my mind for my slightest wish, the girl-the one who had removed my slippers and stockings-glided noiselessly into the room.
When first I saw her enter the room, she was wearing the sorry excuse for an apron I had first seen her in, but she quickly removed it was stark naked.
"You shouldn't have come here,” I said in a low tone, pulling her down beside me. “Your mistress might not understand; she might take it upon herself to punish you, too."
The girl smiled and cuddled her smooth, warm body close, and whispered into my ear, “There is no danger of that, since it isn't my day to be punished.” I thought her rather composed.
"Not your day?” I asked, surprised at this strange remark.
She nodded her head then explained: “We have certain days to be whipped; mine comes again next week."
"Then you have already been whipped for some offense?"
She smiled faintly. “There was no offense,” she whispered.
"Why, then, does she whip you girls?” I asked, pressing amorously against her. “Your body should be reserved for kisses."
She pointed toward the curtain, then said, “If you will but watch, you shall see why."
Again I applied my eye to the crack between the curtains.
The countess was sitting on a divan, her right leg across her left one. The girl who was to be whipped was standing in the center of the room. Suddenly, the countess rose and walked directly in front of the girl; she was swishing the lash through the air.
"You were dreadful today! Why did you keep my guest and me waiting! Were you trying to anger me?"
"No, madam,” came the faint answer.
"Is that all you can say, ‘No, madam!’ and without waiting for the answer, she went on: “Then there is another matter. Why did you enter Yvonne's room last night, when you know I have forbidden you girls to entertain each other!"
The girl dropped her face. “I'm very sorry, madam, I forgot. It shall not happen again."
"That is not good enough, and for your forgetfulness I shall give you an unusually severe whipping! Now kiss my feet!"
Without a word the girl dropped to her knees and, clasping both her mistress’ feet in her hands, rained kisses all over them, raising them one at a time and quite caressing both the instep and pinkish sole.
Afterwards, the countess said, “Now kiss the whip."
Obediently, the girl did this, clasping it in both hands and kissing the lashes as well as the wood handle.
Obviously, the countess seemed to have forgotten all about me, for after making the girl stand and submit to having her hands fastened to two straps which were then drawn up far above her head, she said: “You are very pretty, Molly, and it's a shame to stripe your lovely body, but it shall be! I am dreadfully hot today, so I am afraid I shall strike hard! But don't worry, my dear, you shall have your reward-afterward!"
The lash fell across the tender flesh, making the girl lunge forward.
Drawing the nude girl closer, I whispered, “Why does she whip that girl? She has done nothing to warrant such a beating!"
The girl, snuggling close in my embrace, nibbled with her pearly teeth at the lobe of my ear, then she whispered, “I wish it were me she was whipping! I love it so!"
"You love to be whipped?” I asked, hardly believing my own ears.
"Yes! It's the only way in which we are allowed to enjoy ourselves!"
"Tell me,” I whispered, “Doesn't your mistress ever allow you girls to relieve each other's suffering-in bed, I mean?"
"We are allowed only the pleasure from the whip-she whips us until we come from the heavenly torture!"
"Then?” I asked, caressing the flesh of her belly and thighs.
"Then we have to caress her-with our lips and tongue-until she has had her pleasure!” The girl seemed greatly moved now; there was little doubting the sincerity of her statements.
I took another look between the curtains before venturing to ask my next question. The girl was still struggling beneath the lash, her back and thighs showing red marks-I knew that there must be an end to this strange affair before many more moments passed or else she would surely kill the girl. I said, “Do you enjoy giving pleasure to her that way?"