Birch in the boudoir

LETTER 8

My dearest Charlie,

I hope you will not be vexed, my precious, at what I have done. Never before, upon my maiden honour, have I shown one of your sweet letters to another living soul. Nor would I have done so now had I not been so intrigued by the manner in which Jackie and Mandy were set to work as "girl-ponies" at Greystones! Such a charming image was conjured up in my mind by your account that I could scarcely rid myself of it.

I know you will forgive me for showing that portion of your letter to our generous Pasha of Ramallah. As you shall hear, my action provoked the most amusing results.

To my surprise, he knew all about such games. Indeed, he said, the sultans and pashas of the East had long been accustomed to employ some of their favourite concubines between the shafts of their little garden carriages. He cited so many instances in history, from Sultan Ibrahim of the Sublime Porte to Mulay Ishmael himself, that I could scarcely hold any further doubts in the matter.

"Not twenty miles from here lives Pasha Ibrahim," said he, "a wealthy patriarch of sixty summers. His harem is extensive and, like myself, he is a great lover of English and European beauty. The use of harness, as he calls it, is indispensable to the management of his girls, especially if one of them should prove difficult."

I listened agog, Charlie, for, though I could imagine that such things might happen behind harem walls, it was astonishing to be contorted so quickly with the proof of it.

"Then, sir," I said, "I suppose a great deal of privacy must surround these occasions. The good Pasha Ibrahim would guard such a secret closely."

The Pasha of Ramallah laughed. "Dear young lady! Why do you say so? All the world knows of the means he employs. In this country we think better of a man who is prepared to resort to such measures, provided he thinks them desirable. My brother Ibrahim opens his gardens on such an occasion to his intimate friends, just as he does on other days of hospitality."

Now, Charlie, you may be sure that I questioned our friend so long and so ingeniously about Ibrahim's pony-girls that he soon saw my intention.

"I believe, dear young lady, that you would be ever grateful to me if I could contrive your presence at one of these afternoon outings. Am I not right?"

He was so amused at finding me out, as he thought, that I could only confirm his suspicion as demurely as I knew how. Pray, give me credit, Charlie. You will remember well how I can counterfeit the faint maiden blush, the modest lowering of the gaze, the cloistered innocence of virtue upon these occasions.

"Very well," he said, "nothing could be easier than for you to accompany me in a day or two on my visit to the happy fellow. I happen to know that he has lately acquired a most rebellious young lass of fifteen, who is more than due for a lesson in obedience."

I need not say how I looked forward with the greatest curiosity to the day of that visit. It seemed best to say nothing of it to my dearest papa and mama, beyond telling them that I was to take tea with Ibrahim's ladies.

It was still morning when we arrived at Ibrahim's estate. Like our friend's, it is set in a green jewel of an oasis, remote from the city, its high surrounding walls well guarded to exclude intruders and immure the occupants. From the carriage window, as we passed along the drive, I was able to glimpse the ornamental pleasure gardens with their winding paths. A fine lake lay at the centre, quite half a mile long. Upon its shore stood replicas of small, pillared temples here and there, such as might have been built for Apollo or Jove, in the ancient world. Banks of mauve, silken-coloured flowers rose on either side, others rising flame-red or fierce blue in the brilliant sun. Elsewhere the trees provided deep, shady retreats where marble fountains played.

Of the house itself I will say only that I was a perfect Alhambra of Moorish courtyards and colonnades, with dazzling sun on the marble and water, restful darkness in the tapestried rooms.

The tyrant Ibrahim, as I had imagined him, was a jovial gentleman with a twinkle in his eye. When the formal courtesies were over, he escorted us to a grassy knoll overlooking his splendid grounds. Here an excellent lunch was served: the most succulent fruits, the crispest roast, and the most savoury dishes were moistened by fine vintages and champagne. Ibrahim's religion forbid him the use of wine, yet he is too generous a man ever to stint his guests.

It was here that I again saw Connie, the young woman of some twenty-five years, with her Asian or Chinese appearance. The black, silken sweep of her hair was once again held in place by a pair of silver slides so that it did not fall too far over her face. She was not entirely naked, though very nearly so: a pair of tiny cones, made of tight, black silk, covered her nipples, and were held in place by black silk cord over her two shoulders and 'round her back. Her other garment was a black silk cache-sex, a tiny triangle at her loins, held by black cord 'round her waist, its supports running down her belly to the silk adornment, and at the rear running back up to her waist between the cheeks of her bottom.

Several different girls acted as waitresses, Connie being given orders to minister to half a dozen of us. The rather snub features, slanted eyes, and pretty heart-shaped face she has are so very appealing! And what of her figure? No part of the world, I vow, can rival the Far East in that neat feminine charm; the slim, nimble forms, the tight rounds of buttocks, which never grow too fat even in a girl whose hips are broadened by her posture.

As she walked to and fro, the eyes of the men followed the light, graceful movements of her body. They contemplated her pale-yellow satiny skin, her tight little breasts, narrow thighs, and saffron bottom-cheeks. Even when she was on full view as a shop girl, I cannot believe she received as much admiration in six months as she now got in half an hour.

The meal ended. Now the men lit their cheroots and began to chaff one another. There was much daring of each fellow in turn to grasp a nettle from the hedgerow and find for himself if it had a sting. Wagers were laid and decided by the victim's silence or his sudden sharp intake of breath and muffled curse.

The English Milord was present, with a certain unsmiling coldness and he offered to prove the wagers another way. He beckoned Connie. The young Asian woman approached. I heard later that he had once encountered her before her life as a concubine began and that she had spurned his admiration. Perhaps that explained his conduct now.

"Put yourself over my knee, face down, Connie," he said quietly.

There was a look of apprehension in Connie's almond eyes as she obeyed him, the black silken hair hanging downward, her trim saffron-satin seat-cheeks facing upward. Now it was Connie who must make the wager, guessing the effect of each plucked nettle in turn. If she won, her reward was to be fed from the whisky flask. If she lost, she must endure the return of the last nettle to cause a gasp.

First she guessed it would not sting. The young man held the frond to her buttocks with no effect. One of his companions told the girl to turn her pretty face upwards, whereupon he held the whisky flask to her mouth. We saw her swallow once or twice, then make as if to turn her head away. He restrained this.

"A little more yet, Connie. We must fortify you for your ordeal!"

The man across whose knees she lay circled her waist with his left arm to hold her firmly. In his right hand he took another nettle, which Connie also pronounced harmless. This time she was wrong. As son as he touched the spiked leaf to the demure saffron cheek of her bottom, the Asian girl cried out her mistake, her trim legs twisting to no avail. The young man continued to hold the leaf to the same place until the allotted time was up. A deep pinkness the size of a large coin appeared on Connie's left buttock, with two or three white sting points in it.

Then came the forfeit. Was it pure malice which made the young man touch the virulent sharpness to that same tender place, holding it there with lips so tight that the veins on his forehead stood out? That done, he looked down at the appealing innocence of Connie's charming Chinese bottom. With no hint of amusement, he chose another frond, identical to that just discarded. Connie made a submissive, imploring sound, for rebellion is not in her nature.

Just then we were invited to witness Ibrahim's garden outing. The young man who was engaged with Connie remained deaf to this invitation. We left him still holding the Asian girl over his knee, not guess-big what his eventual purpose might be. Looking back, I caught a glimpse of her face turning upward to him, its demure Oriental charm contorted into a devil mask of tears.

You will believe, Charlie, that all this was done merely to avenge himself in one way upon Connie. I assure you that you are wrong. The cunning secret, they tell me, is that such applications of nettles add much to one's enthusiasm for love. Connie well knew that by enduring such a preliminary she might hope for a rich harvest!

We came down to the lakeside pathway where there stood the strangest little equipage. It was a light garden carriage with shafts. Across these shafts were two securely fastened crossbars, one at the very front and another mid-way. From the direction of the house, two of Ibrahim's valets were escorting a loud-mouthed, strident youngster whom I believe you may well recognise.

She walked with a contemptuous toss of the long, fair hair, which framed the broad oval of her face, combed from a central parting to lie loose on her shoulders. Certainly the narrow eyes and thin mouth completed a picture of snub-nosed insolence.

Can this be the young hoyden you once spoke of? While not particularly tall or plump, Elaine appeared a sturdy enough adolescent in her white blouse and tie, the pleated grey skirt worn scandalously short in a brazen display of robust young thighs.

There was no doubt of her rebellious nature, which was visible in her strident manner and the toss of her fan- hair, as well as audible in her vulgar speech. When she was given her orders at the carriage, she looked with contempt at the guests, undid her skirt and stepped out of it.

Because Ibrahim prefers such pupils to show their bare legs in brief dancing skirts, Elaine's schoolgirl knickers were no more than a pair of briefs in white stretched cotton. Her strong young hips and bottom-cheeks were thus admirably shaped for our observation.

She stood between the shafts, her back to the driver's seat of the little carriage. The harnessing began. Elaine had to bend forward over the first bar, which supported her young belly. A broad, stout strap was riveted to the bar and the valets now drew this tightly 'round Elaine's waist. Not only did it hold her down. By pressing her belly even more firmly on the bar, it caused her waist to arch downward and so increased the swell of Elaine's bottom in her tight knickers.

Her arms were at full stretch in front of her, each wrist securely held in a leather cuff to the front of the shaft. For the first time the impudence in the broad oval of her face and features seemed to falter. She saw one of the valets take a slim cane with a spring like a rapier. He laid it conveniently by the driver's seat, adding a birch and one or two other means of discipline.

Elaine tossed her fair hair clear, and craned 'round with desperate anxiety to watch these preparations. She was gnawing compulsively at her lower lip in apprehension. Her hands were clenched into tight fists and her bare legs shifted and tensed as the men kept her waiting.

A still heat pervaded the afternoon. In the deep shade where we stood only the drone of insects disturbed the silence. The velvet petals of the red flowers seemed to wilt and the lake lay bright as a burning mirror. With loving slowness, one of the valets took the waistband of Elaine's knickers and pulled the little pants down her legs until she could step free of them. There was another stir of interest at this. While the youngster still watched us over her shoulder, we moved a little closer to take advantage of this bare rear view. Though I can only speak from a feminine point of view, Charlie, even I could see what it was that attracted the gentlemen of the party. Firmly broadened and rounded by her posture, the pale, sturdy cheeks of Elaine Cox's tomboy bottom had that robust, vulgar appeal which is perhaps at perfection in a girl of fifteen. The light-haired love-pouch peeped backward between her thighs; like her well-parted buttocks, it was within fondling distance of the driver.

One detail marred this charming cameo. The white tail of the school blouse still trailed slantwise across her bare seat. The valet now tucked it up, well clear of Elaine's young backside.

She appeared quite a big-bottomed girl in this posture, of course, and it was hard whether to think of her as pupil or woman. I imagine it is the fate of such a tomboy that her vigour and vulgarity lose her all consideration from the protective instincts of mankind. Certainly there was no suggestion on this occasion that she should be treated otherwise than a grown woman-nor any justification for that. Elaine was such a provoking mixture: the broad-hipped vulgarity of her backside in its present posture, the insolence of her manner, her schoolgirl tie and bare bottom, the impudence of a slut and the innocent awkwardness of adolescence.

Ibrahim appeared, applauded by the onlookers, who lined the lakeside path. He bowed to either side with gracious condescension. The greeting was returned. Then, turning in our direction, his eyes brightened at the sight of a bare-bottomed tomboy like Elaine harnessed bending between his carriage shafts. He took his place in the driver's seat. Elaine tossed her fair hair and craned 'round again, trying to watch him, with narrow-eyed anger.

Ibrahim leant forward a little. In his hands he seemed to weigh the full, pale schoolgirl bum-cheeks. Slowly his fingers moved.

"Such a warm little pouch," he murmured, "such sweltering lips! How many lucky young boys have been permitted a glimpse of it-and more. Back here, though, I sense a virginity. How tight! Even to the finger!"

Elaine twisted her hips as violently as the waist strap would allow. "You brute!" Hair tossing, face craning 'round, she vented her fury. "You dirty, filthy brute!"

Ibrahim sat back with a gentle sigh. "Such rebelliousness, Elaine? We must overcome that. Forward, if you please!"

As he spoke, Ibrahim took the slim cane in one hand and tapped it into the palm of the other. Elaine's defiance was tinged with panic now, knowing the caning would begin as she moved forward.

"No!" The dismay and the rebellion were plainly heard in her cry. "I won't! No! No-o-o-o!"

Ibrahim smiled at the outburst. His arm went back. Down flashed the bamboo with a whip-like report across the sturdy, bare cheeks of Elaine Cox's fifteen-year-old bottom. What consternation in her eyes now! She bit her lip not to cry out, though her seat and thighs squirmed with anguish. She clearly regarded the humiliation of pony-girl discipline with a mixture of dread and defiance!

Ibrahim's smile broadened. He gave a second and third stroke of the cane across her young arse. His schoolgirl pony yelled wildly at the atrocious smart and tried to kick backwards. His mouth tightened in reproval. Karim, the valet, at his master's signal, cured this violence. He walked across, took the bamboo, and gave two thrashing strokes across the backs of Elaine's bare, sturdy thighs, keen enough to raise gooseflesh upon them.

What a change came over the young rebel now! The broad oval of Elaine's face was a picture of repentance. The narrow eyes brimmed with tears and the mouth wailed forlornly. She was almost more the whipped child of fifteen than the hardened young strumpet. Smiling, Ibrahim diddled her between her tomboy bottom-cheeks and thighs.

"Now your obedience training begins, Elaine Cox! You're sturdy enough to be my pony-girl-and impudent enough to need the whip across your bare bottom! Pull forward, Elaine!"

Smack!

went the bamboo across her broad, young backside. 'Round went the wheels, with Elaine straining with every muscle of her robust young thighs and hips. The ornamental garden carriage trundled along the lakeside path, past banks of flowers rising like walls upon the dark-leaved shrubs.

Ibrahim had no eyes for the beauties of a garden. His gaze followed the squirming adolescent hips, the arching and rounding of Elaine's bum-cheeks, as she pulled forward. Her fatly offered adolescent seat bore the long, swelling weals of the bamboo's tapestry. At each step forward, with leg lifted, her hips went farther over the crossbar. With each stride, she lay almost bottom-upwards over the bar, buttocks enticingly parted in a full rear view. Elaine's backside tempted punishment like any fifth-form tomboy over the desk, awaiting the teacher's bamboo. The sight stiffened Ibrahim's disciplinary zeal. His cane rang out across the squirming, robust cheeks of Elaine's bottom, like a ringmaster's whip. Several times he required his minions to detain her in this pose while he added six or eight wicked strokes across the weals with which he had already embroidered Elaine's seat.

I will not weary you with an account of every detail. Suffice it to say that no act of a sexual nature was performed on this remarkable outing. The obedience lesson to which Elaine was submitted was, in essentials, of a kind thoroughly approved by England's moral educators.

As the sun waned over the pleasure gardens, the equipage came to an incline in the path, running up to the finest of the temples. Even a sturdy youngster of fifteen was tested in all her sinews to pull the carriage forward. Her momentum flattered. Ibrahim chose a woven, snakeskin pony-lash. Smack! went the whip across the broadened cheeks of Elaine's backside. Frantically she writhed her robust young thighs, struggling wildly upwards, arse over the harness bar. How seductively and lewdly Elaine's adolescent rump squirmed in this posture.

Ibrahim rose in his seat, teeth set with disciplinary zeal. Smack! The pony-lash sought the lower fatness of Elaine Cox's tomboy bottom-cheeks. Smack! Whip-smack! Whip-crack-smack! Surely her screams were justified by the ruby beads punctuating the lash marks, trickling down and spending themselves on her thighs.

. I had some misgivings at the severity employed to ensure that she accomplished the last and most arduous part of her lesson. Yet one must consider Ibrahim's view. The slope of the path and the labour required caused the seat and hips of Elaine to arch out and squirm in the most lewd and tantalising manner. It almost seemed that Elaine was deliberately thrusting her fifteen-year-old backside in his face, arching and rounding its fattened cheeks at every step. As her sturdy young legs strained forward, she alternately showed the love-pouch at her thighs and then her widely opened arse-valley. No teacher who had Elaine bending thus before the class could resist giving exemplary chastisement for the moral improvement of the others.

A gate was closed across the path, its keeper standing by. Ibrahim diddled his finger impatiently between the buttocks of his sturdy fifth-form schoolgirl.

"Sound your little post-horn for the gate to open, Elaine!'

When she hesitated, a crack of the snakeskin lash across her bum-cheeks strengthened the force of the command. She was beyond modesty, anyhow. With a cry of compliance, Elaine Cox farted as only a vulgar tomboy of her age knew how. The witty gatekeeper chose to be deaf. Again the snakeskin kissed Elaine's strapping young buttocks. She emitted two of the rudest carriage notes ever heard in the history of equitation. And so the gate opened.

So the obedience lesson ended. What controversies would attend it outside the harem walls! Yet it contained one advantage. Before it began, Elaine seemed a hard, impudent rebel. One felt pitiless in dealing with her, as if she were an insolent and vulgar grown woman of fifteen. Now the snub-nosed impudence of the broad oval of her face was dissolved in tears, she wailed for pity. Now one could soften towards her. She was a child, a schoolgirl of fifteen, pitilessly whipped for her offence. Of course one smiled and teased her gently about the whipping, to ensure that she did not forget its purpose. Yet now one could fondle Elaine gently and affectionately, knowing that she would respond with the tearful gratitude of a schoolgirl whipped and pardoned.

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