Anonymous - Birch in the boudoir

Was it pleading or was it gratitude she showed? Maggie, the randy young bitch, brazenly licked my fingers in anticipation! Had she much to be grateful for? It depends which groom was the harder to satisfy. Was she given to the gentler of the two? He would surely allow her to ride the rubber dildo while his rod merely stimulated her passion. But Maggie the young shop girl with her golden-blond hair touching her collar and fringed on her forehead, might well provoke a gentle, affectionate lechery.

Yet the other groom seemed more fiercely provoked. Was it by the rather hard, crude features in the pale oval of her face, or the blue-green eyes with their mascara'd lashes? Did her slight stockiness, the firm young thighs and buttocks, move him even more?

With the first lover, Maggie might play out an amorous comedy. If the second was allowed to take her into the fateful room, a darker drama would ensue. It represents a more sombre scene, shadows falling on a fixed block where Maggie kneels strapped over it, securely gagged. Only her short, black singlet clothes her. I fear the tale must be one of Maggie's wadded screams and flooding tears, her bottom bruised and swollen by weals which will not fade for a week. Even then, I suspect, this wielder of the pony-switch knows no pity.

I wonder which of my suppositions is correct? Perhaps neither. Perhaps, indeed, I malign the second fellow. Yet there was a certain look in his eye. Not that I think him alone in his inclinations towards such a young woman as Mag!

Now, my dearest Lizzie, I send this, my second letter, to you. As of this moment, you will not have received one. But, when you do, how sweet your replies will be to your own adoring,

Charles

My own Lizzie,

What a fool! What a fool he is, I hear you say. To procure such pleasure for Maggie and her admirers, but never to taste it for himself. Believe me, my dearest, you could not think worse of me than I did myself in that respect. I groaned all night at my folly in having let slip the opportunity to enjoy an evening with Maggie. It shall not happen again, I said to myself. For now it was clear that I was lord and master of the young women whom Miss Martinet-or rather my Uncle Brandon-had provided for me. I could do anything I chose, to whatever girl I chose.

Now the trouble about that state of affairs is that it rather spoils a fellow for choice. I might have spent the next six months making up my mind and changing it again. If there was one young woman who unwittingly saved me from this, she was Noreen.

Yesterday, after two days of remorse and indecision, I went down to the stable-block again. The harness had been polished, and Noreen was rubbing up the tiles with a damp cloth, toiling away in her white singlet and working trousers.

Picture her, Lizzie! A firmly made, quite tall girl of nineteen. Unlike Maggie's easy sluttiness, there was a hard defiance in Noreen's clear, pale features and insolent brown eyes. The dark-brown hair, cut at the collar, fell about her face as she knelt there polishing. From time to tune, she flicked her fringe and shook the straight, dark hair into place.

You may be sure that the passers-by on the path were detained by the sight of her. What did they see? A firm-figured young trollop in clothes so snug-fitting that you might imagine her naked! The singlet, as she knelt on hands and knees, shaped the taut, young breasts, which nevertheless jiggled nicely with the vigour of rubbing the tiles. The tight, pale-blue denim of her pants moulded those long, lightly muscled thighs, so trim that, when she was on all fours, with knees pressed together, there was a little space and light between those taut limbs. Her hips in this pose were perhaps her greatest attraction for the voyeurs, Noreen's behind being quite big-cheeked without running to fat.

The harness strap round her waist, serving to keep the pants in place, pulled them tight over Noreen's robust young buttocks. As she worked, the central jeans seam was strained like a hawser deep between the cheeks of Noreen's bottom and under her legs. The softer, fuller swell of her lower bum-cheeks almost closed over it. Yet it remained visible, the tight denim showing how the seam even parted the lips of Noreen's vagina.

Indignant at her unwanted admirers, she shook her hair back and looked coldly 'round at them, stopping her work, posing immobile on all fours. The silk-hatted gentlemen smiled eagerly at her, tongues running over their lips. She sat back on her heels, refusing to oblige them any longer. The groom came over to her.

"Noreen, you young slattern! To your work at once! Unless you would prefer the gentlemen to see you reprimanded!"

I confess, Lizzie, my tool began to stiffen both at the sight of Noreen and the thought of training her for my pleasure. In short, I gave instructions that she and another young woman were to attend me in my room. Need I tell you? She resisted every advance. Her face was turned away from my kisses. I had intended first to make Noreen suck my penis, kneeling before me, prior to swiving her cunt soundly. Her defiance was such that I feared she might bite clean through it! She could be won, but she must first repent of her hostility. Without further ado, the grooms laid her on the bed, with its leather wristlets secure to the frame at the head. If she had no taste for love, she should not interrupt others.

My second companion could only be Maggie. This young blond slut with her coltish stockiness stood there waiting, tongue pressed between teeth. She had hauled up the front of her singlet and was running a hand over her belly as if to check that its shape had not been spoilt. For the rest, she wore the same blue working jeans as all the other girls during their labours in the stable, where there is no place for skirts and petticoats.

Even Noreen could not help watching Maggie undress. That was odd, Lizzie. I vow the two girls must often have watched each other disrobe. To prevent solitary vice in such places as Greystones, bath hours and toilet visits are shared by at least two young women, as a rule. Will you confess the truth? To see a girl undress fascinates women as much as men!

I drew a chair close to the bed, where Noreen lay and removed my trousers, displaying the erection which had been longing for liberty. Both girls turned their eyes upon it as I sat down. Maggie came close, shifted her firm, white thighs apart, and seemed to know what to do.

"Astride my legs, Maggie, facing me! I want to sheathe myself very deeply between your legs. We shall let Noreen drool over the chance she has missed. And you'll be well positioned for me to enjoy your lips and breasts, to play with your legs and arse."

Maggie looked at me, hard and lascivious, as she moved her thighs wider yet and clambered astride me. Lowering her hips she touched the knob with her hole as if by instinct. I put a hand under her and smiled at the amount of self-lubrication.

"You young whore, Maggie! You've been making love to yourself!"

"What if I have?" She shook her blond fringe with a hardened impudence.

"Would you like to be made to do it in front of the men who admired you while you were setting out the harness?"

"Don't mind."

Fm sure she did mind, but Mag was too brazen to admit it. I turned her 'round a moment and was not the least surprised by the fading traces of stripes and one or two small bruises on Maggie's bottom-cheeks. It was clear that, when I left after her punishment the other night, one of the grooms had taken Maggie into another room and caned her viciously.

"Very well, Maggie," I said quietly, "the next time you're caught at it, I'll have you strapped for the pony-lash on your bare bottom. How do you like the prospect of that?"