Anonymous - Experiences of a Country Girl

I had no choice, my face burning with shame and wet with tears, I turned my back to him, keeping my black silk nightdress held up over my waist with one trembling hand and slowly lowered my throbbing, inflamed bottom, wincing with the shooting, gnawing pains that hurt as I moved each time. And with the other hand I felt for his… thing, discovering that he had slipped over it one of those protectives which he had used my first night in his home. I managed, with his humiliating and condescendingly endearing instructions, to grasp his stiff… thing… and direct it into me… there… and then he grasped me round the waist and drew me down slowly, surely down on him. I grasped and writhed in pain as I felt myself opened by his hard remorseless organ. The laceration of the first terrible act was noticeable but I found I could bear it. And besides my dread of Mr. Raleigh quite prevented my making the least protest. At last I was seated astride his lap, my back to him, his hands feeling my panting breasts and I felt him driven into me to the very extent. He then ordered me to rise up and down, but slowly and not too far, taking care not to let, “my cock slip out of your sweet tight little pussy, or else I shall have to give your naughty backside a few spanks with the bristles of your hairbrush, Lucille.”

And as I had not the least desire to acquaint my poor aching swollen flesh with that unusual and certainly atrocious means of correction, I did my best to please him. He kept squeezing and playing with my breasts and made me put my hands on his hips to steady myself while I worked myself up and down on his… thing… And he became excited and told me what a lovely girl I was becoming and how a good whipping also made a girl passionate in bed with a man, just as it had made Selena. He told me that I would soon learn to be a better lover than either Rosa or Selena, and that I was much nicer to spank because my reactions and the way my white-skinned bottom reddened delighted him, so if I wished to avoid turning my bottom over his lap too often, I had best find ways to make him quite satisfied with me. He ordered me to put my tongue out to rub against his while I continued my up and down movements. The fiery torment of my bottom made my movements quite uncontrollable and nervous, and he praised me, saying indecently that it showed what I was really a very “hot” pussied little girl who needs her bottom well warmed to make her pussy the same for a man. Then he asked me if I was feeling any pleasure from his stiff cock, “which your own sweet little mouth and tongue made that way for your lovely tight little pussy…” And I stammered in terrible embarrassment that my bottom hurt me so I was hardly conscious of anything else, and then I dared to ask him if he couldn't… love… me without whipping me because if he were kind to me I certainly could care for him much more. This angered him, because he pinched my breasts and replied when I cried out in pain that as his ward and slave girl, my only duty was to please and obey him and that if he chose to undertake improving my naughty character by spanking me, I had only to submit myself humbly and gratefully for the trouble he took with me, and also that if I ever asked him for a thing like that again, I would find myself getting the worst spanking my naked bottom ever had. I kept quiet then and continued my movements till suddenly, with a cry, his teeth bit into my shoulder and his hands gripped my sore bottom till I screamed and I felt him thrust up hard into me and then with a bursting sensation vibrated in my vitals as he cried that he was “coming” and I was to “wriggle that big red backside as much as you can or I'll make it wriggle with the strap, Lucille.” And I obeyed, sobbing with my pain and shame, till at last he sighed with his pleasure and relaxed his hold of my pain-racked, shuddering body. Then he lifted me off him, told me to go wash and get ready for bed and he would tuck me in. And he left the room to go to his own bathroom while I half-faintingly went to mine and washed my face with cold water, for I was too weak and shivery and the feverish throbbing of my poor bottom almost made me scream. The suffering about on his legs while I… did what he wanted had brought all the pain of my spanking back again.

When I came back, he was waiting for me, stark naked except for his sandals, and he made me kneel down and kiss his cock, from which he had removed the covering used during his possession of my body. It was limp now and I was afraid my kisses-for he demanded I go on for a bit while I held my nightdress up with both hands to show him my well-spanked bottom-would make it hard once again and that would mean a new ordeal of torturing shame for me. But fortunately, he seemed to be quite pleased with my behavior, as he put it mockingly, and then told me, “I may slip into your bed and wake you up in the morning, my dear, so go to sleep without your nightdress. Take it off now and then put your arms around me, hug me, and give me an affectionate kiss and thank me for letting you off a severe punishment tonight and promise me you are going to try to be a very good obedient little girl.”

I did as he wished, though I could hardly look at him, and my face was a burning red as I stood up against him, naked as he was, and kissed him on the mouth and stammered my thanks and my promises of obedience for the future in the way I knew he wanted. While I did this, he put his hands on my throbbing, sore bottom and squeezed and molded and played with the cheeks, making me start and squirm involuntarily against him, and he muttered, “You bold little hussy! I believe you're trying to coax me to stay in bed with you. But I've had enough for now, so you go to sleep and maybe, if you're a good girl, I'll wake you up in the morning.” With this he gave me a smart slap on the bottom that made me gasp in pain, and, lifting me up in his arms, kissing my breasts as he did so, carried me to my bed and tucked me in. Then, as a farewell embrace, he leaned over me and made me take his… thing… in both hands and give it a kiss and then pass my tongue over it. At last he left me, shuddering with my mortification and nervous fatigue, my bottom still throbbing painfully, and I lay there for some time before I could fall asleep, hopelessly knowing that I was only a slave and plaything for him and that he would and meant to take every right a man can over a girl in his complete power.

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.”