Fond of Helen as she had already become, Pamela was minded to see that she received her first injection as soon as possible, for others would then follow more rapidly. Her agile mind was working quickly on the matter. Her inventive mind flowed.
“This, Helen, is known as the ceremonial position, which all young ladies of seventeen and above must maintain. You must lower your head and shoulders well and push your bottom up. Good, now dip your face into your hands and cover your eyes, for you must also be modest and not allow your expression to show.”
So saying, Pamela ran her free hand lightly over the delicious hemispheres and felt an answering quiver while Helen closed her eyes tightly in her cupped palms. The first swish of the birch made her jump and squeal, for her drawers had always previously protected her. But Pamela fully expected such a reaction, and first let the impact of the twigs sink in before applying another.
The faint rosy hue which appeared on the otherwise spotless pale globe so pleased and excited Pamela that, quite forgetting herself, she brought the third one down much harder and received an answering jerk and a cry. Recovering herself, she applied the next and the next so lightly that they were but veritable caresses and tickled Helen rather than scorched her. Relieved that she was not to be put to so hard a test as her fond Papa had often put her in the study for some transgression or another, Helen yielded herself more eagerly. Indeed, she pushed her bottom out to the next strokes even as Pamela herself had done.
Swish! Swish! Swish! the birch sounded, and with each a ruddier glow announced itself on Helen's nether cheeks until she became quite dazed and not a little excited, for a tip or two of the twigs occasionally brushed her slit which was already moistening sweetly. So delicious was the entire vista, in fact, that Pamela cast the birch down of a sudden and, flinging herself upon the bed before Helen knew what she was at, so positioned herself on her back that her mouth came exactly beneath the cleft that so patently sought attention. Without delay Pamela dipped her tongue upward between the moist lips of Helen's quim, which caused the young maiden to cry out with delight. Gasping and raising her head, she wriggled her hips anew as the lively snake made itself felt in her.
“Oh, yes, how lovely! Do it more! Oh, my bottom burns, but it feels delightful! Oh! I am coming!”
And indeed she was. No sooner had the urgent little cry left her pretty lips than a fine spattering of juices covered Pamela's mouth and tongue. This, exciting both all the more, brought Pamela to turn about and lay the panting girl beneath her so that with their skirts upraised their pussies, bellies, and thighs rubbed together and quite swam in delight.
Such little cries of pleasure as they uttered were lost in their kisses. Being on the brink of such excitement, Pamela herself was also about to reach the delirious climax. Gorging herself on Helen's tongue, she was about to shimmer out her liquid pearls when a knock sounded causing both girls to leap out of their ecstasy and cling all a-quiver.
Pamela, being more used to such circumstances by now, recovered quickly. Jumping off her delightful charge, she bid her quickly cover her charms and sped to the door. Flushed of countenance and with her skirt somewhat ruffled, she found herself facing Sir Richard, who had hopefully sought her first in her own room.
“Ah, Pamela-Miss Rumple-my wife had a message for you. That is to say…”
His voice broke off, for while Pamela had attempted as best she could to block the doorway, her stature permitted no such concealment and Sir Richard found himself gazing past her shoulder at a much-rumpled bed, his elder daughter in the process of pulling down her skirt, the birch upon the floor, and Helen's drawers therewith.
“My goodness, yes,” choked the knight uncertainly. A flashing of white thighs and a glimpse of a sweet mystery between them had quite absorbed his vision.
“A message, sir?”
Pamela recovered herself and-believing Helen to be much quicker than she had-stepped aside politely so that he might enter. Helen's cheeks became as rosy as her bottom, for she, too, could see her drawers lying in full view.
“Eh, what?” asked Sir Richard, who had experienced a quite tremulous excitement at the sudden vision. “You have birched the young miss, I see, or are about to?”
“Sir, I have but a little. She took to her discipline kindly, did you not, Helen?”
A slight gurgling sound announced Helen's apparent agreement as she slid off the bed, standing on and hiding her fallen drawers as she did so.
“Yes, Miss-yes, Papa. Oh, my bottom stings exceedingly!” she added for good measure. Her hips wriggled slightly, causing Sir Richard's eyes to dwell fondly in that area. Helen had a quite rumbustious bottom, and he had thoroughly enjoyed birching it and seeing how tightly her drawers encased her globe. Now that they were lying on the floor, his thoughts took many errant turns.
Silence enfolded the three as if all were thinking different things; in fact, their minds were much closer than they imagined. Sir Richard recovered himself, for he could not stand forever gazing at Helen's hips, legs, and ankles.
“Ah, yes, a message, yes. Lady Bromley saw fit to invite the Vicar to her next ball, and his sister as well- I believe her name is Agnes. On reflection, my dear wife feels that she may have offended the cloth by suggesting that they come in fancy dress. A cleric might not feel it becoming, you see. Her intention is that you might perhaps visit and tender her apologies and explanations, though the deuce of it I cannot imagine what you might say.”
“'Tis simple enough, sir. I shall smooth matters over. In fact, I am possessed of an idea immediately. The Vicar could come in his usual garb and his sister as a nun. Then all would be pleased.”
“Capital, capital! What a treasure you are-is she not, Helen?”
“Yes, Papa, oh, indeed she is.”
“Poor Helen, I quite forgot that you are still divested of your drawers,” Pamela exclaimed, though concealing the look of mischief in her eyes. “Do put them on- your Papa will turn his back-will you not, sir?”
“Eh? Why, yes, by Jove, of course!”
Thereupon, turning about, Sir Richard found himself gazing into a mirror, as Pamela fully intended he should. Kneeling quickly before her charge, she motioned to Helen to raise her skirt and therewith one foot which she could insert into the drawers. Blushing profoundly, but not a little excited by this curious episode, Helen did her best to conceal all that she could while the drawers were at last about both ankles and were being drawn up. The hem of her skirt followed timidly, creating such a narrow and awkward gap between both garments that Pamela tutted.
“Hold your skirt high, Helen, or I shall not be able to do it.”
The sweet girl obeyed, thereby revealing to her Papa's gaze in the mirror the veritable twinkling of her thighs which appeared to have grown even more luscious since he had last birched her six months before.
“Higher, you silly, how can I pull them up!”
“Oh!” Helen shrieked, for a single impatient tug at her half-raised drawers caused her to fall backward on the bed and her skirt to fly up to her waist-exactly as Pamela had intended it to do. Sir Richard was vouchsafed a perfect view of several treasures, including much of Helen's bare and pink bottom and the enticing nest that couched between her thighs.