Anonymous - Frank and I

“Yes. I must birch you this time. Fetch me the rod,” said I, handing her the key to the drawer in which the instrument of punishment was kept I was sorry for the girl in one way; but on the other hand I was delighted at the idea of birching her; I had not had the pleasure of seeing her bottom for some time, nor had I birched her since the day on which I had flogged her so severely for striking Jane.

She went to the drawer, unlocked ft, and brought me the rod, and as she handed it to me, she looked beseechingly at me, while the big tears overflowed her eyes and began to slowly trickle down her cheeks. “Oh, please don’t birch me so hard as you did the last time,” she pleaded. Then without another word, she took off her jacket, let down her trousers, and heaving a deep sigh, extended herself at full length on the sofa. Taking my handkerchief I tied her wrists together, a proceeding which frightened her; and in a quavering voice she said: “Oh, why have you tied me? I will lie quietly if yon do not flog me very hard. Oh! please don’t flog me very hard.”

“I am going to give you a dozen smart cuts, and I have tied your wrists to prevent you putting your hands over your bottom in the middle of the punishment,” I said, turning up her shirt, and tucking it well out of the way.

She gave a little sob, buried her face in the sofa cushion and a slight tremor passed over her. She dreaded the rod!

I took a long look at her plump, well-shaped bottom, exposed in full nakedness before me. The swelling cheeks in their milk-like whiteness were very pretty, but I thought they would look more sweet when they were blushing rosy red under the stinging kisses of the rod. I passed my hand caressingly several times over her cool, smooth, soft skin; and then, laying my hand firmly on her loins, I held her down, and began to birch her smartly; but not so severely as on the previous occasion. She burst into tears, and at each cut she gasped and shuddered, drawing in the cheeks of her bottom; and as the strokes continued to fall, her flesh began to twitch, she writhed and twisted, and cried bitterly with pain. Then, raising her head, she looked over her shoulder, and fixed her eyes, dilated with fear, on the dreaded rod each time k rose in the air; and each rime the cut fell on her shrinking bottom, she flattened herself down on the sofa, throwing her hips from side to side with impatient jerks, and uttering little shrieks, — but not loud ones, — until the twelve strokes had been inflicted.

On the whole, she had borne her punishment fairly well, for it had been rather a severe one; her bottom being extremely red, and a good deal striped, when all was over.

I must confess that I had thoroughly enjoyed birching the girl, and, as a natural consequence, I had a very strong erection. I am not a cruel man under ordinary circumstances; but latterly, whenever I had seen the girl’s bottom reddening and writhing in pain under my strokes, I had felt no pity for her sufferings; my only sensation being one of intense desire. Consequently, on this occasion, I was, as usual, full of lust, and I was strongly tempted to clasp the half-naked, crying girl in my arms, press my lips to the glowing cheeks of her pretty bottom, and finish the whole affair by turning her over on to her back, and taking her maidenhead then and there. However, I curbed my ardent desire; and to rid myself of the temptation, I untied her wrists, telling her she might go away.

She got off the sofa, standing for a moment or two with an expression of pain on her face, crying silently; her trousers hanging about her feet, and her legs bare. Then she buttoned up with trembling fingers, put on her jacket, and walked out of the room.

I sat down in an easy-chair, and lighting a cigar, began to smoke, thinking to myself that I had passed a rather exciting afternoon.

It was then five o’clock, and as I did not feel inclined to go out, I remained in the library, reading until it was time to dress for dinner.

When I reached the dining-room, “Frank” was not there, and as she had not made her appearance when the soup had been pot upon the table, I sent one of the maids to find oat what was the matter. In a short time she came back and told me that “Master Francis” was not coming down, as he had a bad headache. On hearing that I smiled, saying to myself that the poor little girl was suffering more from a bottom-ache than a headache. She did not come down at all that night, and I quite missed her as I sat by myself after dinner.

However, at breakfast next morning, she turned up, bright and fresh, greeting me quite in her usual manner, without the least sign of either sulkiness or shyness. On my making a few tender inquiries, she informed me that her bottom was still a good deal marked, and though it was a little sore she could sit down in comfort Then she took her seat, smiling at me as if to prove her words, and ate her breakfast with a hearty appetite. She was, without doubt, a high-spirited, lovable girl, and I longed to kiss her.

A week passed without incident, and then I went to the seaside, leaving the girl at Oakhurst, very disconsolate, though she had not asked me to take her with me. No doubt she thought her secret would be more likely to be discovered if she left home.

I was away a month, and during the whole time I received a letter from “Frank,” every three days; she wrote long, chatty letters, and I always liked reading them, for they showed that the girl was cheerful and happy.

I returned home in September, and by a curious coincidence, it happened to be the same day of the month, on which a year previously I had picked up “Master Francis.” She had remembered the day, and after giving me a warm welcome in the hall, she followed me into the drawing-room, and, again taking my hand in hers, she told me how grateful she was for all my kindness; adding that she had been perfectly happy ever since she had come to Oakhurst; and she hoped I would let her remain with me. The girl had certainly always appeared to be happy; and moreover,

I think she had got to be very fond of me, in spite of the smart bottoms I had given her-perhaps she was fond of me because I had given her smart bottoms.

I settled down to the life I usually led at that period of the year; riding or shooting every day; going out to dinners or parties in the neighbourhood, and paying occasional visits to London.

“Frank” still continued to keep her true sex concealed.

And now, to avoid unduly lengthening this veracious record of events, I will pass over a period of many months; resuming the thread of my story at the time when “Frank” had reached the age of seventeen-and-a-half years. She had attained her full height, which was five feet, five inches-, she was prettier than ever, and her figure was well developed. I could vouch for the lower half of her body, but I had not as yet seen the upper half naked. Being now quite “grown up,” she always wore coats with long tails, and as she made a very good-looking young “man,” I often noticed my parlourmaids casting admiring glances at “Mr. Francis,” as she was now called by the servants.

I always treated her as a lad, and had never allowed her to suspect that I had discovered her secret, as I was determined to wait until she herself made known her sex to me. I felt sure she would tell me some day; and then, most likely something would happen.

I was now really fond of her, and I could quite plainly see that she loved me, for she showed her affection in many little feminine ways, of which she was unconscious, but which would certainly have betrayed her secret, had I not already known it.