Aphrodizzia

SIX

Jack and his German nymphs-Elke, a randy young Austrian girl-Her love of frisky stories-New antics with the boys of the neighbouring school for young gentlemen-Her wicked fun with Master Algernon-Algy trapped bending through a wooden beach-groin in bathing drawers-Elke's cruel amusements with him-Gingering-up Algy with a sting-fish in his pants-The remarkable effect on his young prick of the stings and Elke's lewd finger-The wheel of fate turns-Sixteen-year-old Elke caught bending-Her pants down for the schoolboys' lewd revenge-Left to her fate-English moralists outraged at her naked wantonness-Their resolve stiffened at the sight-Elke's impalement-Her first taste of a good old English birch! Dearest Dolly, I need hardly describe my delight in reading your latest letter.

The moral discipline which you have devised for Julia and Natasha is just what those two little minxes deserve! My only regret is that I dare not show the letter and share the amusement with even my closest friends. Not everyone would be as quick to congratulate you on your moral zeal as I shall be. Yet it would be a sin to destroy such a delightful account of the little bitches being trained to obedience.

Therefore I propose to lock it safely away with instructions to our friend Professor J- to publish this and the rest of the correspondence when circumstances permit.**He has now done so!-Editor. If I tell you that my adventures here with the German and Austrian girls are proving no less remarkable than yours, you may hold me guilty of exaggeration. Yet since I last wrote, there has occurred an incident which would have brought joy to the heart of Rabelais and wild mirth to the spirit of the Comte de Sade.

Perhaps you will more readily believe me if I tell you that it involves our sixteen-year-old Austrian pupil, Elke. As you well know, she is an eager little sensualist with no idea of morals in any sense of that word. You will easily recognise her from the photographs of the girls which accompany this letter. Elke is the one of medium height with the straight brown hair cut short at her collar, the insolently pouting mouth, the heart-shaped face with its high cheek-bones which forms an ideal setting for her sly hazel eyes.

The photograph does not, of course, show much of the little tart's conduct! Yet her disposition is clear to anyone who watches her walking down to the beach with a pair of leather jacketed German youths from a similar institution. Elke likes to show off her young figure in the tightly-stretched wool of a short black jumper and a pair of even tighter, though faded, riding-jeans of blue denim. The black wool clearly outlines the proud young shape of her breasts. From the rear, the tight denim shows an adolescent fullness, the ripe soft cheeks of Elke's backside. You think I am severe in my account of the girl, Dolly? You protest that she may be just a high-spirited teenager? Let me show you, by example, what her tastes are! As you know, I like to make the girls in my care study closely such accounts of English life as Master Miles's reformatory memoirs. Yet I take precaution that the more spirited adventures of Beatrice, Eveline, Birch in the Boudoir, Captain DeVane, Laura, or The Days at Florville, remain on the top shelf behind locks and wires, for fear they should make pretty maidens blush! The other night, long past the witching-hour, I was musing in my study when I heard the sound of a footfall in the corridor. Who was the nightwalker, creeping past so stealthily? You may be sure that I moved softly to spy upon the creature! Having turned out the light, I saw nothing at first but an obscure figure moving cautiously ahead of me. The door of the library opened and closed. Then the light was turned on in the room. I slipped out into the garden and along the path, knowing that this would give me an excellent view through the window of the library. Can you guess what I saw? No one would call Elke a studious girl. Yet there she was at her studies! As I watched, I saw her run her fingers along an upper shelf where I keep the key to my collection. Do not ask me how she knew where to find it, for I have no idea. Then, fetching a stool to stand upon, she stepped up, unlocked the doors of wire mesh, and took down a racy volume. To my delight, she came and sat in a leather chair with her back to the uncurtained window, so close that I could see quite clearly what she was reading. It was the Memoirs of the scapegrace Captain De-Vane. Do you recall, Dolly, how he took two girls from reformatory or finishing school on a voyage? Do you recall them? Sandra Williams the tomboy of fifteen with her appealing innocence, brown hair loose and lank to her shoulders, the muddy pallor of her skin, the quick smile and ready courtesy of her blue eyes? She was one of them. The younger girl was Linda Jennings, a sly, sensuous little blonde with a soft pale beauty, blue-eyed and with a short mane of fair hair worn forward on her lapel. Elke opened the book and her finger ran under the lines of print as she followed the story. Sandra, stripped to her white breast-halter and elasticated briefs, was DeVane's cabin-girl for the voyage. Randy young Linda was his bed-slave. Sandra was to spend most of the voyage lying bottom-upwards over his bunk with her knickers round her knees. Many a morning Linda slept until noon, exhausted by the night's antics. A charming picture she made, sprawled on her belly over the pillows, the vaseline jar, roll of tissue, and cane still lying with her discarded knickers on the table. As our randy little blonde dozed the morning away, the soft mane of hair pressed to her mouth, the traces of the night's orgies were still visible. In sleep, Linda licks her lips as if still able to taste her lover's passion upon them. A certain sheen between her thighs tells of spent desire. Though she has wiped off most of the vaseline on the sheets of tissue which strew the floor, a fugitive smear still gleams between her buttocks. Nor can she conceal the prints of bamboo across her pearly little bottom. Elke read at breakneck speed, her finger racing under the lines of the pages.

Alas, she shows nothing like this skill when the immortal works of William Shakespeare or Lord Byron are set before her! Often she returned and read over again the spicier passages of Captain DeVane!

At last she let the book fall to the floor and I saw that one hand had been thrust down into the waistband of her pants and that she was fondling herself. The fingers moved in a long steady rhythm. Her mouth opened, lips parting a little and tongue running along them repeatedly and lasciviously. She breathed more deeply in her labour of love. The sly hazel eyes closed lightly, opened again, and then closed once more in a languorous dream of bliss. Curled on her side in the capacious leather chair, Elke masturbated like this for almost an hour. Twice she had her orgasm with faint shuddering whimpers. I can assure you that she lubricated greatly with the excitement which the book had provoked, for the moisture on the leather chair was still there after she had turned out the light and left. It was, perhaps, partly the sweat of her exertion in the warm night but not entirely that. I tell you all this, Dolly, that you may more readily understand the adventure which followed it the next afternoon. At a little distance from us there is a school for England's future prime ministers, judges, field-marshals, and bishops. The boys who attend it are of the best families, arriving at thirteen and leaving for the two Universities, the army, or the imperial service when they are eighteen. Now, you may be sure that the venerable Dr. Thwackum (as I call him) takes good care that his young gentlemen shall not be contaminated by mingling with hoi polloi-or {Greek} as his scholars are more properly taught to inscribe it. Where the beach belonging to the school ends there is a wooden groin running down to low-water.

Unlike the other groins, it is quite six feet high and topped by broken glass! But, Dolly,-boys will be boys! Here and there a hole appears in the wood, large enough for a lad of fourteen or fifteen to squeeze through feet first. Off he goes to smoke cigarettes on the sly, to peep through his little spy-glass at girls bathing, in fact to do all those things which would incur a severe birching from the reverend headmaster if they were ever detected. It may not surprise you to know that such girls as Elke also creep up to the hole in the wooden groin, in order to spy upon the boys at their bathing.

Ah, perchance to catch a sight of a young penis, as if a glimpse of the bulous monster were precious as that of a unicorn! Master Algernon, the son of a cabinet minister, is an innocent enough lad with a turn for imagination and poetry. He is, I believe, somewhere in his fifteenth year. You might see him in the school grounds, wearing the traditional broad white band of the Eton collar, the short black jacket-known as a “bum freezer”-and striped trousers. Yet these would have been quite out of place when bathing. Yesterday afternoon was a glorious summer scene, the heat intense as it never is in England except during July. The low tide glittered along the Sussex shore, far beyond the damp sand, and the Channel was calm as a lake in the strong light. Elke and her two German swains had gone down to the beach together, just where the groin divided the school grounds from the public domain. The shingle and the sand lay deserted just there and seemed ideal for their amorous encounter. Master Algernon knew nothing of this. A fresh-faced boy with cherubic curls, he had been bathing far down by the tide and now returned up the beach with the thin white cotton of his drawers clinging to him so wetly that it was almost transparent. At that moment, the place being so deserted, he seems to have thought it safe to take a little stroll along the public beach. What sights there might be to serve his imagination when next he pumped his young organ. To negotiate the hole in the groin, which was two feet or so from the ground, it was necessary to put one leg through first, then the other, and finally to draw his torso through with arms extended. It was Elke who watched with growing curiosity as Master Algernon's first leg appeared through the hole.

She walked across and saw the second leg appear, the boy now bending through the gap. From the waist down he was on her side, his arms, head, and torso still on the other. When Elke glanced round, she saw that her two boy-friends had begun to walk away along the beach, not having seen what she was doing. For at least two miles, where the shore ran away from the town, there was no sign of any other person approaching. With vindictive glee, Elke drew the belt from the waist of her tight jeans. Even free of it they were in no danger of falling down. With quick fingers, she drew the belt round Master Algernon's waist, also running it round the metal pins of the groin on either flank as she pulled it tight and buckled it. The result was that he found suddenly he could not move either forward or back. When he tried to reach back with his hands, Elke picked up the ends of the mooring-cord which the boatmen discarded along the pebbles and noosed his wrists together behind his back. It has all happened with such speed that Master Algernon seemed utterly dumbstruck. He now bent helplessly through the hole, the wet bathing drawers showing his buttocks and upper thighs pinkly through thin white cotton. “I say!” he gasped urgently, “Look here! I say! Don't go and get a fellow into trouble! Please! I shall be most dreadfully swished if they catch me like this! Do be a sport! Please!” But Elke merely gave a sulky little pout with her mouth and began to take off her jeans and panties. Algy tried in vain to twist round and see what she was doing but the wooden groin blocked his view. Elke put her jeans back on again but she held the cotton briefs in her hand. Reaching through, she presented these knickers to Master Algernon's face. The poor fellow blushed at the mere sight of them. “You will wear my panties in your mouth,” said Elke petulantly, “Or else I will leave you like this and tell your masters where to find you-with your drawers pulled down and your prick out.” “By Jove!” cried Algy in alarm, “Now, see here! Don't you think you'll get away with this, young lady! Don't you imagine for one minute…” The rest of his oration was lost, for Elke had pinched his nose and obliged him to open his mouth for breath still wider. “Let goth of by nothe!” he gabbled, “Let goth, you thucking little whoreth…” But now the panties were crammed in his mouth and Elke was running a rope between his teeth to keep them in place. The shrill violence of the sounds behind the gag were Algernon's vain promises that his father was a minister of the crown and that he would have Elke confined in the cruellest reformatory for ten years to come! Leaving him, muted and bound as he bent helplessly through the hole in the groin, the Austrian girl walked down the beach towards the tide until she found the thing that she was looking for. It was almost like a colourless mass of jelly. She collected it with care on a sheet of driftwood. As she stood behind the boy and he saw what she was holding, Master Algernon went nearly frantic. The sting of the jelly-fish known as a Portuguese Man-of-War was scarcely less than the tortures of the Inquisition. This specimen on the driftwood was still visibly alive and moving. Master Algy's cherub curls twisted and the blue eyes above his gag bulged with apprehension. Though bending, he performed a side-to-side dance with his legs and hips, as if to avoid what was going to be done to him. Elke put down the board. She drew his young prick and balls out through the front vent of his drawers, the young penis stiffening a little despite his predicament. Then she held him by the balls and used them as a bridle to hold him still or move him as she chose. You may be sure that Algernon had never been handled by a girl before and that the experience was not entirely disagreeable to him. A thoughtful frown clouded Elke's sixteen-year-old face. She slid a hand into the back of his drawers and tickled the boy's bottom-hole. At this, Algernon's young prick rose stiff as a mainmast. Elke scolded him for a dirty wretch. She lifted up the pale jelly-fish on its board, opened the back of Algernon's pants again, and tipped the slithering mass into the seat.

As Elke watched, she could see the slight ominous movement of the blubbery mass, the extension of the tentacles from the main body. The first pad fastened on one cheek of Algernon's young bottom and jabbed the ferocious poison of its sting into him. He yelled wildly into his gag, dancing and kicking vainly with the torment. Another tentacle slid round and stung the flank of his buttocks, another the back of his thighs, while the fourth slid between his spread buttocks and another under his legs. Elke took him by the balls again, holding him still for his ordeal. It was intriguing to see that each time the searing pain of the sting jabbed his arse-cheeks, Master Algernon's young prick stiffened with a convulsive jerk. After some while, Elke seemed to grow bored with this. Through the wet cotton it was plain to see that Master Algernon's soft pale bum-cheeks were scarlet from the stings and untouchably sore. Elke drew his pants down and allowed the jelly-fish to fall on to the wood again. Algernon stared back at her, the blue eyes still bulging with apprehension above the gag and the cherub curls in disorder. Elke picked up a length of the thin mooring-cord. She pointed at Algernon's unfortunate prick which stood out forlornly stiff as his pants hung round his knees. “Dirty wretch!” she said severely, “Now you have the whip!” When one considers that Algernon's scarlet buttocks were smarting atrociously and had been swollen fatter by the stings, the prospect of the whip was bound to cause panic. He twisted, yelled into his gag, danced and kicked his legs about in a manner which would have made any ballet-master proud of him. Elke took the wet cord to thrash him once-twice- thrice-across the agony of his tender buttocks.

The schoolboy tripped and yelled, kicked and farted, in a most extraordinary exhibition for one of England's ruling-class. Indeed, if any part of his anatomy remained stiff, it was certainly not his upper lip. Unfortunately for the boy, Elke had all the cruelty of a girl of sixteen who has yet to learn the limits of punishment. She thrashed his backside without remorse-on-and on- and on. They passed fifty strokes-and even a hundred. Weals appeared easily on the sting-swollen bum-cheeks and roseate droplets flowed. After a long time, while only the call of gulls and the measured lash of the whip disturbed the warm stillness of the beach, Elke laid down the cord. She chose a round pebble, the size of a plum. Moistening it well with cream from her reticule, she pressed it firmly between Algernon's buttocks until it vanished up the lad's arse. Algy's mouth and eyes went very round all at once, with surprise, consternation, and-who can tell?-perhaps just a dash of excitement. Elke bowed the cropped bell-shape of her brown hair, watching closely as she took the fledgling prick in one hand, laying it on her palm, and tickled Algernon's arsehole with the other forefinger. Despite his state, he was excited enough to jig his hips, moving his anus on the finger-tip and trying to rub his prick on the girl's palm. Elke gave the young penis a few tugs and squeezes, as if mocking it rather than encouraging it to perform. Yet even this was sufficient for Algernon's body to go suddenly tense and for the vent of his tool to spout a pool of sperm into Elke Mahne's palm. She studied it carefully, then left his member to dangle while she went to wash her hand in the tide. On returning she looked at poor Algy with distaste as he bent there with bathing drawers round his knees, his penis limp and his buttocks scalded. She pulled up the boy's pants and lifted the drowsy jelly-fish on the board. “Now you get some more of this,” she said disdainfully. While Master Algernon danced and sang into his gag, she again opened the back of his waistband and tipped the loathsome blubber into the seat of his pants. Stooping down she looked at the wildness in his eyes through the hole in the groin as he was stung anew for the first time. “I leave you for two hours,” she said quietly, “Then I tell your master where you are and what a dirty wretch you have been with your dicky hanging out. He will have you fetched and birched, I think,” Algy did not only think so-he knew it! The prospect of two hours torment from the savage stings, followed by a birching on his tortured buttocks quite unmanned him. In a last attempt to win a reprieve while Elke was within earshot, he danced and capered from the waist down, howled into his gag, kicked about and cursed lustily with sheer panic.

Elke Mahne turned away and went to find the two German boys with whom she was going to have a good time. They went later to lie by the bathing huts, under the eyes of respectable middle-class families and their children. Yet had you seen them in their tipsy state, Dolly, what would you have thought? Sixteen-year-old Elke was shouting and falling about as if drunk. It seems that the boys, in order to make her more pliable, had taken her somewhere and fed her on the powder of aspirin spiced with just the tiniest pinch of a drug. I have the details from the venerable Dr. Thwackum himself, who was walking back along the promenade and saw the entire spectacle of Elke and her two young ruffians on the shingle. (Ever since I told him of the conduct of Katharine and Claudia, the reverend headmaster has carried his own Kodak with him in case he should be able to take snapshots of other culprits in flagrante delictu.) Elke began to shout abuse, screaming “Salaud!” and other pleasantries at each boy as he lay with his arms about her. Then she would go limp and submit to his fondling.

Sometimes she would writhe against the boy eagerly and sometimes scream if one of them touched her. Indeed they were obliged to put their hands over her mouth. When a kindly man inquired if she was ill, Elke shouted that she was ill with heart-ache because no boys loved her! Insolent and hysterical, she shouted that she was Elke Mahne who had been to school in Vienna. Her cheeks were flushed, though sometimes she bowed the bell-shape of brown hair and covered her pert high-boned face with her hands. It was evident that after her amusement with Master Algernon, she had taken the aspirin and a dash of something else to lift her spirits high. She lay inert on her side, facing the boy who had his arms about her. The promenaders gazed at the tight and softly filled seat of her faded jeans which she turned to them. At sixteen years old, Elke Mahne's bottom-cheeks had a slight fatness and width to them which was as yet seductive, though it would be excessive in a few years more. When the boy who was lying with her slid his hands into her jeans, Elke's feet twined together with excitement. She drew her knees up a little. Dr. Thwack-urn's photographs show the soft ripe cheeks of Elke Mahne's arse in the faded denim, squirming and tensing together as the boy masturbated her gently. High on the soaring excitement, Elke screamed and submitted alternately. She gave not a thought to the wretched Master Algernon, stuck through the hole in the wooden groin, the jelly-fish in his pants and the pinions holding him. Dr. Thwackum would gladly have stayed to attend to the girl himself. As luck would have it, however, he was due at a meeting of the college governors in half an hour. Yet he had promised himself that he would print the photographs as soon as possible and send copies to me. You believe yourself to be a moralist, Dolly? Then how much you would have in common with Jonathan Bonaventure Thwackum, D.D. Scholar of Magdalen College, his career at Oxford ended when he narrowly missed a Fellowship of All Souls. Rural Dean, Archdeacon, Canon of Long Sarum, he chose the life of a headmaster before that of a bishop. His aim with the birch has all the exactitude and precision of his textual scholarship. He is, of course, a man underneath all that. You recall Sian, my sluttish Welsh housemaid with the red tresses? I am not unaware that she visits his bachelor apartments on certain evenings and returns next day richer by a few sovereigns.

However, let us not sneer at his weaknesses for he is a resolute disciplinarian. On hearing of the fate of Katharine and Claudia, he begged me to avail myself of his skill with a birch if any of the girls require it. I had resolved to let him birch nineteen-year-old Sian. For the rest, I would keep them to myself. By the time that Elke recovered herself, the boys had left her and she was lying on the beach alone. It was past five o'clock and in an hour more she must be back on these premises or incur the penalty of absence. Though still dressed, she was wet between the legs and moist at the rear, for the boys had made a farewell gesture of masturbating her and popping several well oiled peanuts up Elke Mahne's arsehole. As she began to walk back, clearing the muzziness of her head, she evidently saw that the luckless Master Algernon was still fastened bending through the hole in the groin. Little as she cared for the appalling torment he must have suffered, Elke walked towards the scene, no doubt remembering her promise to send a message to Dr. Thwackum and ensure the lad was birched. She walked within fifty yards of the poor victim without noticing anything amiss. Then a frown appeared on her pretty high-boned face. The legs protruding from the bathing-drawers were mere sticks of wood! Before she could turn round, four strong middle-school bullies who had chanced to find poor Algernon and rescue him, seized the Austrian girl firmly. Algy himself stepped out from concealment. “That's her,” he said savagely. How the tables were now turned! While Elke screamed and cursed, they bundled her to the hole in the groin and forced her head and shoulders through it.

Now it was she who bent helpless and strapped down, with all the appearance of a dirty little girl who was trying to glimpse the boys bathing. The masters on the school side of the groin would see the collar-length crop of her brown hair, the fringe, the sullen heart-shaped face and hazel eyes. To the world, there was a prospect of her adolescent thighs and the full soft cheeks of Elke Mahne's backside alluring, broadened and spread in her tight jeans.

Master Algernon was in such a state that he had not been able to get his trousers on again. Instead he wore a towel round his waist, from which his prick now protruded with renewed vigour. “You little whore, Elke!” he said, almost smiling in his anguish, “First we shall have our fun with you. After that, you can prepare yourself for a hard time.” Elke, of course, cursed and struggled vainly, then pleaded with them not to make her late for her return to the villa.

They filled her mouth with the same convenient gag of panties which she had used on poor Algernon. Algernon himself was allowed the honour of undoing Elke's jeans and stripping her from the hem of the black woollen singlet at her waist down to her heels. He paused to admire the slight fleshiness of her pale young thighs with the cunt-slit peeping between, and the ripe swelling cheeks of Elke's bottom.

Retribution began at once, for the boys intended to keep Elke busy all evening. Algernon touched up the Austrian girl's cunt a little with his fingers and found it soon yielded lubrication, though Elke herself shrieked abuse into her gag. Aiming from behind her, Algy guided his hard young prick between her legs and threaded it right up her vagina. The pain of his ordeal that afternoon was now a strange stimulus in its aftermath. Elke tried hard to disengage herself from the impaling prick by jerking and squirming her hips but the only result of this was to make the ride still more enjoyable for the curly headed cherub who ravished her. Indeed, it was evident as the rogering continued that Elke was getting more than a little overheated with the excitement of it. Then, as always, the sperm boiled dangerously in Algernon's loins and he withdrew. Yet now he avenged that other part of himself by carefully vaselining Elke Mahne's arsehole. Despite the hysterical yells which the gag muffled, Elke had to have the prick and the spouting sperm up her tight young arse, for none of the boys wished to be the cause of a paternity summons. To bugger a slightly fat-bottomed sixteen-year-old Austrian girl like Elke Mahne was by no means a disagreeable exercise for Algernon's prick. Our hero made it last ten or fifteen minutes before he gasped out. “It's coming now, Elke! Bend tighter! The further into you the sperm goes the more we'll both enjoy it! Ah, what a fat little bottom, Elke! Here it comes! That's good! Oh, that's marvellous! What a perfect little whore you'll make, Elke!” So it continued-four times over. Each boy spent in Elke's backside and then turned to the problem of retribution-giving her a hard time, as they called it. They had purloined from somewhere a pair of loose-fitting female drawers, elastic-tight at waist and mid-thigh, made of almost transparent pale blue silk. They pulled these up over Elke's thighs and hips. Into the seat of these a fresh and hungry jelly-fish was tipped. “Half an hour's excitement for you, Elke,” said Algernon whimsically. They had strapped her ankles together to prevent excessive “dancing,” for fear it might harm the innocent jelly-fish. Yet the softly full cheeks of Elke's bottom surged and writhed to match her muffled howls. The tentacles got easily between her legs and plagued her young cunt until she almost swooned. Bright scarlet rondels began springing to life on her adolescent buttocks until their anguish merged into a single glow of swollen rear cheeks. Red blemishes rose on the backs of her thighs.

Then an urgent tensing showed where the tentacles had found their way between the cheeks of Elke's bottom and were wreaking havoc there.

Before the half-hour was over, the sixteen-year-old culprit was frantic in her plight. Elke Mahne farted as lustily as a full-bottomed Austrian girl of her kind can do. She squirmed and contorted, arched and writhed. At last they stripped down the pants and removed the obliging jelly-fish from the behind of which it was so enamoured.

Algernon stooped over the girl. “Still think it was such fun, Elke? After we've whipped you, you'll have the jelly-fish tickling you again for a whole hour, so that you really get the chance to enjoy it!” Had such a thing happened, who can say what the outcome would have been? But events were now about to take an unexpected turn.

Elke was in a perfect condition for being whipped. When Algernon touched a hand lightly to the girl's buttocks, even that made her gasp and flinch away-so sorely had the stings made her smart. They agreed that each boy should give her three dozen strokes across her backside with the improvised whips of mooring-cord. However, at the mention of this, Elke began to twist her hips so wildly that it would have been hard to land the whips in the right place. The ingenuity of retribution had seized Algernon. He had decided to make Elke wear a “persuader” between the cheeks of her arse while she was whipped. This was a simple device. It consisted of a narrow strap which ran from the front of her belt at the navel, down her belly, under her legs, up between her buttocks to fasten at the back of the belt. Where it was drawn tightly up between her hind cheeks, a row of needle-sharp points protruded to either side. He explained carefully to Elke that so long as she bent right over for the whip- her arse-cheeks stretched wide-and so long as she kept quite still, the needle-tips would dent the skin down either surface of her bottom-cleft but would not pierce it. If she attempted to writhe or tense or straighten up, she would martyr herself on the fine steel points. You may well believe, Dolly, that this news did not much reassure Fraulein Elke! How could she not squirm under the lash? However, the strap was drawn tightly into place and her spread arse-cheeks were helplessly presented to her four youthful chastisers. At the thought of giving thirty-six whip-strokes across the ripe adolescent cheeks of Elke Mahne's backside each young penis was beginning to stiffen up again. Indeed, the knowledge that she would get almost a hundred and fifty strokes by simple arithmetic seemed only to add to the hectic excitement.

Fear not, Dolly! She was to be saved before that happened.

Algernon himself gave her thirty-six with the improvised whip, thrashing Elke's fat young buttocks with more force than expertise.

However, he produced some impressive weals and drove her frantic as she screamed into her gag. Twice she failed to control herself and clenched her bottom-cheeks on the wicked needle-tips of the persuader!

But before they could continue with the discipline, one of the lads shouted “Cave!” the traditional schoolboy warning of an approaching master. They took the persuader, pulled up her jeans and fastened them. The jelly-fish was returned to its ocean pool. They had neither time nor inclination to unfasten Elke but left her with the appearance of a girl spying on boys to see them undress for their swimming lesson. With a gag in her mouth, she could hardly deny it!

The truth was, Dolly, that the meeting of the college governors had ended and that the dignitaries who made up this body had gone off separately to take the evening air. The figure who now approached down the cliff path was Colonel Randy Hart of the Blues. The view which greeted him on the public side of the wooden groin was of Elke's backside and thighs in the tight jeans as she bent through the hole.

Of her sullen young face and the sly hazel eyes he could see nothing.

However it was clear that she was staring at the four boys on the school side who had taken off their bathing drawers, in order to dress in their uniforms, and whose young pricks were freely displayed.

Colonel Randy brushed up his luxuriant moustaches and screwed the monocle more firmly in his eye. “By Gad!” he said loudly, “A damned little bunter spying on the school fellows! Is that the game, missy? Is it? What? What?” He walked up behind her and clapped his hands on her tightly clad backside. Elke, in her tender state, squirmed and mewed into her gag. Colonel Randy took this for lascivious writhing and moans of passion. The colonel, a builder of empire who had had much to do with native girls and uncontrolled lusts of primitive womanhood, chortled at this. He stared round quickly and believed himself to be unobserved. Looking in the girl's reticule he saw a card with her name, age, and address upon it.

Knowing something of my own military sympathies he evidently thought himself quite safe-when he saw that I was written down as her summer guardian! “Well, now, Elke Mahne!” He brushed up the ginger moustaches again, “A young hunter that must spy on boys' pricks and then whimpers with excitement when she's touched needs something more than a dame-school nagging! Eh? What?” He undid her pants again and drew them down, grinning hugely as he saw Elke's adolescent buttocks glowing hotter than the setting sun. He spat into his hands, rubbed them together, and gave a dozen ear-splitting smacks on those seductive rear orbs. For any girl, such a spanking would have stung hard. Poor Elke with her arse-cheeks smarting so dreadfully already, shrieked wildly into her gag. “I like a tart of sixteen with hot pants, Elke!” boomed the colonel. “From the look of those arse-halves, you're the sort of slut who likes to get a bottom-smacking! What?

What?” So the hero of Majuba Hill, and a dozen other conflicts, let fly. This time twelve lusty slaps on each of Elke Mahne's bottom-cheeks. Colonel Randy could see clearly the smarting arse of the Austrian girl and yet this somehow seemed only to stiffen his manhood. He stopped and, taking another look round to see that the coast was clear, he unbuttoned himself. “No sense lookin' a gift-horse in the mouth, m' dear!” he said, with his curious choice of metaphor. His sixty-year-old prick stood stiff enough for a man of twenty-five. He threaded it into her cunt from behind and pumped up into her vigorously. Like many a soldier of his rank, he regarded a girl as a filly to be ridden or driven by a man. He talked to her as if she was his restive mount, smacking her flanks from time to time, as he fucked her, in order to make her more amenable. If ever my plans materialise, Dolly, I shall invite Colonel Randy to be our guest. What choice of pleasure would he make? He will use one of the little garden carriages with a single seat for the driver. Elke Mahne with her jeans and panties stripped off will be harnessed bending between the shafts, one cross-bar supporting her belly and her wrists strapped to the forward one. Imagine Colonel Randy mounting and seeing her ripe sixteen-year-old bottom-cheeks facing up towards him!

Confronted by such a prospect, what man could resist a long carriage-drive through the grounds, from lunchtime until dinner? Smack goes the whip and round go the wheels! You may be sure that our “pony-girl” Elke would return in floods of tears, her cunt and arse well-plumbed and her young backside embroidered by the colonel's equestrian skill! On this occasion he was much milder, huffing and puffing as he roared towards his climax. Being a gentleman, he did not spend in the girl's cunt but drew his manhood out and allowed it to spout hot jets of gruel all over the scarlet soreness of Elke Mahne's bottom-cheeks and down the backs of her thighs. Scarcely had he done this when a sound of footsteps warned the gallant soldier that he was about to be discovered. Without waiting to pull up Elke's pants for her, he galloped off to the concealment of the cliff-path, stuffing his penis back into his trousers as he ran. Now, Dolly, you may feel that Colonel Randy is something less than a pattern of moral rectitude. But could you cast one single aspersion at that venerable old widow, Lady Loosely? She it was who now appeared on the scene in a long velvet dress, carrying her stole and lorgnettes. She saw the rear view of the fucked fraulein and gasped at the outrage of it. Not only was Elke spying on the boys as they changed out of their bathing drawers, the young whore had undressed herself and allowed a man to enjoy her from the rear at the same time! There could be no doubt of it. Lady Loosely, proud and upright, crossed the pebbles with firm tread and stood behind the culprit. “Slut!” she said, reading the card which the colonel had dropped close by, “Dirty little Austrian slut!” She was about to smack Elke's bottom hard and long but her hands touched a substance which had been foreign to her ladyship's life since her lamented husband died in the cunt of Maggie the Scrubber, the blond toast of Bridewell lock-up. Lady Loosely raised her lorgnettes to her eyes and examined the smarting, glowing cheeks of Elke's bottom, scrutinising the half-congealed spurts of gruel by which they were spangled. Her ladyship straightened up with a sniff. “Disgusting!” she said loudly, “You're a proper little whore, Elke Mahne! I shall go and ask Dr. Thwackum to come down here with his birch. But even he ought not to see you in so lewd a state of spent lust as this.” Taking her own handkerchief, Lady Loosely mopped over the adolescent girl's swollen bottom-cheeks and thighs, wiping carefully between her legs. She then used her hands to examine Elke's state with gentle fondling, stroking and touching. This inspection lasted for quite half an hour, even requiring her ladyship to insert one finger up Elke's cunt and another up her bottom. It was observed by my spies, Dolly, that the rate of the pulse in her ladyship's throat was almost twice the speed on her departure from the beach than it had been when she had first appeared there forty minutes earlier. At last the venerable beak-nosed figure of Dr. Thwackum arrived. In his hand was a severe birch, the kind made of three parallel switches of willow. He stood behind Elke and, it seemed, a trembling fit seized him. You may be sure it was outrage, Dolly, for anything else would be unthinkable in the case of this great moralist and public educator of the nation's leaders. He did not touch Elke but stood about two feet behind her. Bowing a little, no doubt with grief at such a lewd display, he clasped his hands before him, low down. From the back, my informants could not see exactly what the venerable doctor was doing. He seemed to be vigorously winding his watch-or perhaps polishing his cuffs-or even pumping his inhaler. Who would believe so upright a man to be a martyr to asthma? At last Dr. Thwackum seemed suddenly to overcome his moral grief at Elke's filthy conduct. He strained up abruptly and his hips arched forward a little. There was a long gasp and a shudder as the great man composed his mind once more. (My informants, by the way, apologised for an error. They thought Lady Loosely had mopped the sperm from Elke's bum-cheeks and thighs. Now they saw they were quite wrong. She was still spangled with it when Dr. Thwackum stepped aside.) He studied the state of Elke's bottom carefully and smiled quietly at the scarlet and smarting cheeks. There was no doubt that he intended to birch her without pity. Yet his position was, to say the least, equivocal. What repercussions might follow the birching of a girl on a public beach by the headmaster of one of our great public schools?

A frown of concern furrowed his noble brow for a moment longer.

And then Dr. Thwackum, Canon of Long Sarum, bared his teeth in a grin of triumph. He is not only one of our greatest moralists and educators, but also the most cunning devil who ever failed to win a Fellowship at All Souls. Can you guess what happened, Dolly?

Possess yourself in patience a few hours more. I shall write again by the next post. Your loving Jack.