Anonymous - Frank and I

“Now, Annette, I am going to take you on my back and hold you, while Madame flogs you.” So saying, I went to the sobbing girl, who trembled and shrunk away from me, but made no attempt at resistance. Seizing one of her wrists in each of my hands, I drew her arms over my shoulders, and then stooping forward, raised her feet well off the floor, “horsing” her in proper style without any difficulty, for I am six feet in height, and though she was tall, she was not heavy.

“Now, Frances,” I said, “the girl will be sure to kick and struggle when she feels the strap, so you must pin up her petticoats, so that they will not’ fall down in the middle of the punishment.”

Frances rolled the culprit’s petticoats, which were white and clean, up to her shoulders, and pinned the garments securely. She wore her chemise under her drawers, which were tightly stretched over her bottom by the curved position of her body; and as I was between the two mirrors, I could see everything perfectly.

As Frances was untying the girl’s drawers, she sobbed out: “Oh, madame, don’t take down my drawers!” The drawers were untied, and pulled down to her knees. Then she made another appeal: “Oh, please leave my chemise. Do not strip me quite bare.”

The chemise was rolled up and pinned to the petticoats, leaving the girl naked from the middle of her back to the tops of her stockings; and as she felt her last garment removed, she uttered a low wailing cry of shame.

She had a small, but well-shaped bottom, slender thighs, and slim legs, cased in tight, clean white cotton stockings, gartered at the middle of the thighs with black ribbons; her ankles were trim, and she was wearing neat, well-polished shoes. Her olive-tinted skin was very smooth, and it appeared to be fine in texture.

Everything being ready, I told the weeping culprit, who was shivering with shame and fear, that she must try and bear her punishment with fortitude; and not attract attention by making an outcry.

Frances took the strap and twisted part of it round her hand, leaving a length of about eighteen inches to flog with.

“Now, Frances,” I said, “give her a couple of dozen strokes, and lay them on smartly, but not too severely. Begin at the upper part of her bottom and flog down to her thighs, then up again to her loins. Keep cool, and don’t cross the cuts.”

Frances whirled the strap in the air, and as I looked in the glass in front of me, I could plainly see the girl’s eyes dilate with fear, and I also noticed the cheeks of her bottom contract, and the smooth skin assumed a rough appearance. Crack! The long piece of leather fell smartly across the girl’s bottom, and both the olive-tinted cheeks were instantly marked the a long red stripe, the exact breath of the strap; the stinging pain making the culprit start convulsively on my back, and utter a stifled cry. Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack! Frances swung the strap with a graceful sweep of her arm, and as skillfully as if she had been a practised flogger; laying on the strokes the equal force, in slow time, one below the other, — so that the red stripes were printed on Annette’s skin at almost regular distances apart. She plunged and wriggled, whimpered and sobbed; and I could feel her body quiver, and shrink against my back each time the stinging strap struck her bottom.

I had never before “horsed” a girl; therefore k was a novel sensation, and a pleasing one, to fed her bosom and belly rubbing against my back, and the front part of her thighs rubbing my bottom, as she writhed in pain. Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack! She bounced about, twisting her hips from side to side; her flesh twitched at each stroke; she turned her head and looked over her shoulder, with an agonized expression on her face, at the strap as it hissed in the air over her bottom, and she gasped and cried, the tears running in streams down her scarlet cheeks. By this time, Frances had flogged down to the culprit’s thighs, so that the whole of her bottom was prettily marked with alternate red and white stripes.

Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack! Frances was now flogging upwards. The sharp noise made by the strap as it struck the girl’s firm flesh, echoed through the room; she kicked up her heels in pain, struggling hard to free her wrists from my grasp, and though she did not scream, she moaned, and cried piteously, gasping out in choking accents: “Oh, madame! — madame! Oh, chere madame! pas-si-fort! Oh, — pas-si-fort! Oh-madame! Ayez pitie! J’en-ai-assez! Oh! — Oh-h!”

Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack! Her moans changed to low, suppressed shrieks, and she threw her legs about so frantically that her drawers fell off, and in her writhes and plunges, I caught glimpses of the black hair in the cleft of her thighs; her struggles becoming so violent that I had some difficulty in holding her in position.

Crack! Crack! Frances laid on the last two strokes with a little extra force, extracting from the culprit two rather loud squeals; and now that the flogging was over, the whole surface of her bottom, from the loins to the thighs, was a bright scarlet colour, as the stripes had overlapped.

Frances threw down the strap, and stood for a moment looking with an amused smile at the marks of her handiwork; then she unpinned the girl’s petticoats and let them fall. I released her wrists, and she stood on the floor, crying, and twisting her loins with the smarting pain of her well-whipped bottom. Her face was red, and she looked very much ashamed.

“Now, Annette, it is all over. You may go,” I said.

She picked up her drawers, and turning aside, drew them over her legs, and tied the strings round her waist; then she put on her stays and dress, whimpering, sobbing, and wiping her streaming eyes with her apron; then she put her cap straight, and hurried out of the room.

The flogging of the girl had afforded me great pleasure; as the whole affair had been so unexpected, and also so much out of the common. I was very randy, and as a matter of course, had a tremendous cockstand.

I looked at Frances, who had evidently enjoyed the task; her eyes were bright, and she was smiling. “Well, are yon satisfied now?” I asked, laughing, and pinching her ear.

“Oh, yes! And I must say that whipping a bottom is exciting work. I can quite understand why you are so fond of doing it.” Then, fixing her eyes on the flap of my trousers, which bulged out considerably, she laughed, saying: “I can see that you are much affected by what has taken place, so I suppose I shall now get a taste of the ‘rod.’ But you must take care not to rumple my frock, as it is a new one.”

“All right, I won’t ruffle your plumage,” I said, laughing.

Making her lean over the back of an easy-chair, I raised her dainty skirt and carefully folded it over the middle of her back; then I tucked up her petticoats, and opened the slit of her drawers, so that the plump, white cheeks of her bottom were framed in the fine linen, which was scarcely whiter than her smooth skin. I began to poke her “en levrette,” but I was so excited that I “spent” almost immediately. However, as my prick remained quite stiff, I did not withdraw it, but went to work again, and after a prolonged and most delicious struggle, during which I was well backed up by Frances, I discharged for the second time a torrent of hot spend. She almost swooned from excess of voluptuous pleasure, her legs gave way under her, and she would have fallen had I not held her up. But her clothes were not ruffled!

I got her a glass of wine, and she was soon as lively as ever; and when we had had a “wash and brush up,” we went quietly off to Versailles, where we spent the day as we had originally intended.

Annette must have got herself transferred to another part of the establishment; for we never saw her again, and during the remainder of our stay, we were attended by another chambermaid.