Experiences of a Country Girl

CHAPTER 2: ROSA'S SHAME

To my surprise, nothing occurred for the next eight days to plunge me further into my despondency and terror of him. He behaved very nicely toward me, not once whipping me, though he playfully threatened me almost every day with a spanking. He seemed to love to use the word and to talk about my bottom and how beautifully made it was for whipping and spanking. But on the ninth day, I had occasion again to witness a scene of shame and cruelty, of which, this time, Rosa was the victim. It was at lunch, as I recall, and we were sitting eating and he was chatting about his paintings and how soon he would take me out with him as a model-an event I was not at all looking forward to, as you may imagine after my initiation to outdoor nakedness before him and my vulnerability to the switch-when he paused, tasted the salad carefully, then rang for Selena.

“Who prepared the salad today, Selena?” he asked.

“Rosa, Master,” Selena promptly replied, “is there anything wrong?”

“Yes, she's seasoned it with garlic instead of Roquefort as I specifically instructed this morning. Send her in to me at once.”

Selena bowed her head and went out, and a few minutes later lovely Rosa entered, face anxious, hands clasped, eyeing him carefully. He at once censured her and asked her what made her take it on herself to use garlic instead of Roquefort, to which Rosa stammered nervously that she found just before lunch they were out of Roquefort and she had substituted the garlic instead. “Then you should have come to me and told me, Rosa,” he rebuked her sternly. “That makes two faults: disobeying my instructions as to how the salad was to be made, and then not telling me of the shortage in the kitchen which could have been corrected. I haven't punished you for a little time, and now I see this is what comes of leniency. Go out into the garden and cut me four or five good lean switches from the hazel tree there. I am going to give you a sound birching on your naked behind to teach you not to take your work here casually, my girl.”

Bursting into tears, Rosa fell on her knees- astounding and shaming me, to see this beautiful mature young woman so demean herself-and wringing her hands, pleaded tearfully, “Oh, Master, don't birch me… Please give me the martinet or the strap instead as hard as you want. Don't use the birch on me, Master.”

“You have five minutes to bring back those switches,” he said casually, glancing at his wrist-watch, “and if you aren't back by then, you'll be tied up and get all three used on your backside.”

Weeping, poor Rosa hastened out of the room, and he eyed me with a bland smile. “I trust this time, my dear,” he chided tauntingly, “you won't let your sentiments get the upper hand over your better judgment, because I am going to let you prepare Rosa for the birch.”

“Oh, b-but Mr-Mr. Raleigh, I–I've never done a thing like that.”

“Silence, Lucille, you had never done many things before you came here as my ward. So that's no argument at all. And there had better be none, unless you want to join Rosa,” he retorted. “Are you going to obey me and prepare her as I asked or not?”

“Oh, yes, yes sir, of course I'll obey you,” I hastily gasped, getting very red at the thought of his punishing me for one of the lovely servant girls to see.

I sat there in dread and nervous embarrassment till at last Rosa returned, crying softly, clutching five thin long pliant switches in one hand. He made her bring them to him. Then he got up, took his pocketknife and peeled them, then tied the ends together tightly with some heavy cord. Brandishing this improvised birch rod in the air, he made it whistle fiercely, and Rosa started to cry again, pleading to be given the strap or the martinet but not the birch as it cut dreadfully.

“Take her to my bedroom, Lucille,” he ordered sternly, “and roll up her skirt and slip to her waist. Tie this cord round them to keep them up, then pull her panties down to her knees. She'll go on the armchair near my bed. And when I come in, which will be after I've smoked a cigarette, I expect to find you holding her hands tightly so she can't wriggle away from the cuts. Be quick about it, or after she's had her punishment, she'll prepare you on the same chair for yours, my dear.”

Shaken with mingled emotions, of pity for poor Rosa whom I had to help humiliate by acting as assistant to him, and of fear for my own welfare, I stammered, “Y-yes Mr. Raleigh, right away. R-Rosa you-you better come with me, pl-please.”

“Yes'm, Miss Lucille,” she sobbed, and walked along with me, her head bowed, cheeks stained with great tears slowly rolling down.

We ascended the stairs to Mr. Raleigh's bedroom and when we got inside, I whispered to her feverishly, “Please, Rosa, you've got to forgive me, but I have to pr-prepare you. Please get on the chair without fussing so he won't get any angrier.” She nodded wretchedly, with a new outbreak of doleful sobs, and slowly knelt down on the low armchair, burying her head in her arms. She was perhaps a half inch shorter than me, with great dark brown eyes and attractive dark brown hair worn in a pretty, short bob. Her figure was ripe and shapely as I saw when I had, not without great embarrassment and another whispered apology that I didn't really want to do this to her, rolled up her black dress and white slip above her waist, and fastened the cord around them to keep them up throughout her punishment. Her ample fully mature bottom was snugly sheathed in a pair of tea-rose-colored silk panties, and her lovely round full thighs most attractive in dark brown stockings with gaudy red French garters at the tops. When I put my fingers under the elastic waistband of her panties, she began to cry again, but made no protest or resistance as I drew them down, my face flaming with shame for her own humiliation. Then I went behind the chair and gently took hold of her wrists. As I did so, Mr. Raleigh entered, swishing that awful bunch of switches in his right hand, and Rosa turned her tear-stained face to him with a cry, “Oh, Master, please have mercy on your Rosa. Don't birch her, please. I'll never make a mistake like that again, only let me off the birch!” Her skin was a delicious smooth amber-soft shade, and naked now from waist to stocking tops. The spacious ripe solid cheeks of her bottom shrank and tightened, and I knew she was feeling just as I did when the first blow of a whipping was about to fall.

“Hold her securely now, Lucille,” he advised me as he took his stance at the young woman's left, brandishing the rod. “If you let go of her, you may be sure she won't let go of you when you get onto that chair for a good sound switching on your bare backside.”

How he loved to humiliate us, how he delighted in our shame as women forced to submit to this most juvenile, yet atrociously embarrassing of all punishments.

Rosa continued to watch him imploringly, great tears rolling down her cheeks, while her knees and thighs huddled together and she tried to lessen the size of her spacious amber-colored naked bottom proffered out to that cruel bundle of hazel switches. “Oh, don't whip Rosa hard, Master,” she sobbed. “Please, not too hard. She'll be a good girl. It cuts so. Please, not hard!”

I was trembling with shame and compassion for the poor thing, and I loathed Mr. Raleigh with all my heart. But he glanced sharply at me and I gasped and tensed my hold on Rosa's wrists, knowing he would carry out his threat without hesitation if I did not obey his orders.

He began to whip her naked bottom then, sweeping the bundle of switches straight across her big bare seat, and the horrid swish of them as they cut the air and spread fantail over the full round cheeks of her smooth amber-colored behind made me tremble. She began to cry at the very first blow, and after a few more, laid on with real vigor and deliberation-for he was an artist in whipping as he was at painting, always striking in the spot he meant to attack, regardless of the victim's contortions or movements-her hips jerked and rolled as she pleaded brokenly to be pardoned again. Silent to these pleas, he went on switching her remorselessly, and she plunged herself against the back of the chair, trying to lower her bottom. When she did this too often, he would pause and coldly order her to get back into position unless she wished some extra cuts, and it was atrocious to see the alacrity with which the weeping young servant obeyed her torturer. As she plunged and writhed about, I could see the red lines drawn across that fine smooth amber skin, till they marred all of it from the top of her ample young hips to the upper parts of her shaking, huddling thighs. Rather than anger him by screaming, she muffled her cries by pressing her mouth against the back of the chair, but she tugged at her wrists till I had to exert all my strength to keep her from losing hold of me. Halfway through the whipping, Mr. Raleigh asked her whether she admitted her mistake and agreed that she had earned a good whipping and she sobbingly confessed she did, only begging him to use the strap now instead and she would willingly endure extra strokes rather than to have the rest with the awful birch. Deaf to this supplication, which brought tears to my eyes, he sternly commanded me to take a better grip on her wrists, and then began to switch her with full sweeps of his strong arm, biting the switches cruelly into her furiously welted bottom and drawing hysterical cries and tearful prayers for mercy.

He must have given her forty-five hard lashes before he at last stopped, and then, to my shuddering disgust, made her kiss the rod and his hand and thank him for the whipping. She had to dress herself now and then go back to the kitchen and prepare dessert and coffee and serve it herself by his order. I didn't dare protest I was no longer hungry.

That night Mr. Raleigh entered my bedroom where I was reading and, after making me take off everything except by brassiere and stockings, told me I had acted fairly obediently, but that he had not given me a whipping in some time and felt it necessary to keep me in good training. So he made me bring him my hairbrush on my knees and then, to prove my utter submission to him, slip down my panties myself and let them fall about my knees as I bent over the arm of the armchair. It was a very uncomfortable position, for my feet kept slipping on the rug, but very soon I was being distracted too severely to notice the sharp whacking blows he applied on my naked bottom, pressing his left palm on the small of my back to keep me in position. He gave me thirty spanks, made me kiss the hairbrush, much to my blushing and tearful embarrassment, and then go to bed with just my stockings and brassiere on. He had not returned to me that night; he said he might in the morning, but I had a terrible apprehension that this time he would…

My intuition, alas, was right, for about dawn I was rudely wakened by feeling his hands on my breasts and his mouth pressed hard on mine. I woke with a start, then recognized him and he whispered to me I was to open my legs as wide as I could and prepare to kiss “my cock.” Then to my confused and shamed surprise, he knelt over me and, lowering his… thing… to my mouth, ordered me to kiss it lovingly. I obeyed half-dazed with sleep, and then I felt his mouth suddenly press down on my… spot… and began to kiss and suck and lick me there. I was dying of embarrassment, but his orders to me were repeated and his fingers pinched my still tender bottom to make me obey, so I complied with his wishes. He began to put his tongue between the lips of my… spot… and forage around, and I felt myself stiffen and jerk nervously as a curious, tingling sensation began to start in my body where he was licking me. I was so terribly ashamed I was nearly crying, but I kept kissing his… thing… till he told me to suck it gently and use my own tongue lightly on it. I felt myself trembling fitfully as with fever, and my thighs quivered and writhed as if I were being spanked. As he kept up his licking and thrusting into my… spot… I moaned and my breasts began to swell and I felt my nipples stiffening, and then he stopped suddenly and, turning around, got over me, told me to remove my brassiere, then fondle his “cock in your soft hands and then put it into your sweet little pussy… I've made it juicy enough to take a good poking now, Lucille.”

I obeyed him implicitly, and the moment he was entered inside the lips of my spot… he fell on me furiously and, gripping me by the shoulders, made me cling my arms and legs around him while he began to “poke” me with deep long digs and thrusts, his lips glued to mine and my tongue forced to rub against his by his express order. My senses began to reel and I moaned and arched and twisted under his hard stabs into me, and then slipping his hands under my bottom, he grabbed the inflamed cheeks hard and began to lunge into me savagely while I cried out and twisted, feeling bruised and shaken by his vicious possession. Then suddenly I felt a hot searing wave flood my body, and at the same moment he drew out of me, laying his… thing… along my naked heaving belly, and thrust a forefinger back into my quivering… spot… and began to rub me.

I had never felt anything like that before. He was rubbing something that felt as stiff as his… thing… and I turned my head back and forth while his other hand gripped one of my bottom cheeks hard till the tears came to my eyes. And then I felt a sudden jet of hot spattering liquid along my belly and waist on up to my breasts… And as I cried out in surprise, a shattering force seemed to seize me and fling me asunder…

When I opened my eyes, trembling with the exhaustion and reaction, he was standing over me with a smile, smoking a cigarette. “At last the little virgin knows what it is to come in her sweet little pussy, my dear,” he chuckled. “And high time too, I was beginning to think you were just the least bit frigid, but it was that spanking which did the trick. Rosa didn't take long at all, you'll be happy to know.”

And with that insulting comparison which let me know he had made love to poor Rosa after whipping her and before he came to me, he went back to his room and left me weeping with my shame… But the exhaustion of that incredible sensation he had so unwillingly roused in me soon made me fall back into a heavy, drugged sleep…