Anonymous - Caroline

There are girls who rebel completely and must be handled in a sterner vein which is to say that, being over-proud and haughty, they must needs be stabled, like fillies, and the tip of a long whip brought to scour their bottoms. As a rule, such girls are tall and thus gain haughtiness. They have the finest legs that show the poising of the bottom at its best, but frequently are cold of temperament and thus are difficult to bring on heat. If a single whipping does not suffice, they may be brought to tipple and thus, hopefully, will be more eager for the fray, but often then prove fractious, as if they were guarding the treasure of the realm between their bottom cheeks or where their furry nests are clenched too tight.

Those whom life has not favoured to share in such experiences may think a cruelty obtains, but it does not. If a girl has not been put to trials, she will suffer the more for it in her marriage bed and may be put off amourous delights for life. She must be “trodden”-such is the philosophy, and one more open and more frank than other canting habits of Society. A girl will be merrier, too, for having taken cock and will know herself to have arrived and to be more free. Once she has imbibed the manly juice by both her apertures, she is not put upon nor treated like a wanton thing. Indeed, she is spoiled and feted all the more, and may thereafter put herself to such as she alone will choose, though never refusing the first prick that she enjoyed, and indeed for the first few weeks of her new life will expect to receive it daily if she can and will be taught all sorts of little tricks while remaining “under cover” of the birch which she accepts she must receive.

Little is said of this. No lewd words are exchanged. It» is known that she is “coming on” or “coming out.”

Her eyes obtain a softer look. She fiddles often with her dress and knows not where to put her hands; her buttocks have a heavier swing. Well-creamed as they now are, she feels the weight of them the more and feels their parting as she never did before. As to her cunny, once the pouting lips have parted to the well-knobbed tool, it is said that her garden has been watered, that her curls will grow the more, as often curiously seems to be the case, though Caroline would have it this is but a coincidence and will occur in any case when girls are at their puberty.

Miss Withers, though… The gloss of Time is not upon the evening yet, alas. Good memories should mature as does good wine before it is unbottled. Certainly, Miss Withers had begun to mature superbly well. She had those firm and marbled breasts, that arrogant posterior on which the male mind often dwells. Timidity dwelt in her, though, as well. Our conversation over dinner was not only well-laundered but stiffly starched to boot. I saw no future in the enterprise, thought it unfruitful at the least and left them to converse while I took to my port in the seclusion of my study. “As I suggested that you should before she came,” says Caroline who will not have me claim a move of tactics such as this.

Below, I heard their voices soft and hushed. Miss Withers was to marry-was afeared of it. To undress before a male was horror to her. My heart sank. I pondered on near ghosts of recent past: girls laughing on the lawns when skirts were upped, and those who shrieked and whom the summerhouses quick enfolded behind doors. Their muffled cries still linger on the air beneath the coarse complaining of the crows.

An hour passed and I took up post close to the door. I was minded to regard the thing a farce, and then heard Caroline say, “Girls are birched for it, my dear. Were you not birched?”-“No, I was not. Mama forbade it. Oh!” came. from Miss Withers who most evidently had never talked this way before.

Thus and thus the words passed, I can only add-for Caroline is very good at leading on.-“Oh, no!” was uttered by Miss Withers, and from Caroline a firm, quiet “Yes. You like the feel of it, I know you do.”

I descended, peered over the banisters. That which I prayed to see I saw. Miss Withers lay full length on our chaise longue. My love knelt by her side and licked the nipples which she had exposed. The glory of those tits- how firm they were! Miss Withers legs showed shapely, strong, up to her garters. And beyond. Beyond I glimpsed the fulsome gleam of flesh, the swellings where her garters bit. Her head, in a dismay of self-indulgence, moved from side to side, yet not uneagerly she allowed her thighs to spread until, with dress upswept by Caroline's deft hands, I saw the shadowed plumpness of her motte.

A foolhardiness it would have been to have disturbed them then. Two females at play are a lovesome thing to see. That Caroline knew I watched, I did not doubt for, having teased her well-furred cunny, then she turned Miss Withers on her hip and thus exposed her naked bottom to my view. Ah, what a globe-a globous globe indeed and deeply cleft and brown-tinged at the furrow's roll.

“Let me attend on you; be not ashamed, for there is no one else to see,” said Caroline with arch hypocrisy. Bearing in mind that Miss Withers then lay pressed into the back of the seat with her face all but hidden, she presented a royal feast to the lips and tongue of my beloved who commenced to assail the lady's most intimate orifices with abandon.

Miss Withers squealed, she moaned-she even giggled once: a wondrous sound to hear. Sometimes she pressed away and said, “Oh no, oh no!” as if disclaiming her own sins, but the insistence of my love won through. Her tongue teased everywhere. Miss Withers quivered, clenched her fists in ecstasy. The well-laved grotto of her slit was mine to see, as was her rosy orifice. She arched her back, clutched at the wall, then rolled upon her back, lay limp. One stockinged leg slumped to the floor, and thus her honeypot was fully opened to the bees of love: an awful simile, I do confess.

There is a decided awkwardness in mounting a female on such a couch, but therewith an extra sense of lewdness, too. Desire had carried me forward even before my conscious mind took note of my moving feet. Miss Withers had flung her arm across her eyes and so unwittingly had blinded herself to my approach. She heard though, at the last footfall, she heard. A squeal escaped her. She would have sprung up had Caroline not deftly pressed her down, smothered her mouth with hers and I already taking up my posture in between her most impressive legs.

“nah! he must not! Oh, heavens! Save me!” uttered she. Her fallen foot kicked soundly, caught me on the arm, then flopped again, for Caroline had pressed her thigh and held it still.

“A good poke, darling-that is what she needs,” breathed Caroline. A higher shriek greeted her words. I had the deuce of it to hold Miss Withers still the while my knob (most awkwardly) approached her curly-clustered dell. It touched. Ah, magic of that moment ever on when one assails an untried honeypot! I pushed one leg up and exposed the more her pouting cleft, fell on her full and sucked the swollen tips of her fine tits the while I eased John Thomas in.

“Stop him! Stop him!” she bucked again. My knob slipped out again and all seemed lost.

“I'll hold her legs, my pet. Now get it in again!” from Caroline.

“No-woh! You beasts, your horrors, no! Oh, don't!”

Ah, what a further struggling then ensued! Her hips churned this way, that-her pubic bush was brushed most maddenly against my knob as were the sleek lips of her cunt. What devil took me then I do not know. I brusquely motioned Caroline to stand and spun Miss Withers over by sheer force until she lay upon her belly, kicking still. Her hands clawed at the cushions, clutched them tight.

I began to smack her bottom then. She screeched at each descending stroke of my broad palm that made her pale cheeks redden.