Anonymous - Julie

“Somewhat?” I fended, “you must tell me all.” She wore a pearl-grey dress with ribbons at the bodice. Nice-quite nice-but not as expensive for her station as I would have thought.

“Occasionally-well, twice,” she said and flushed and gripped her hands together in her lap. Was she alone-were “they” alone? I asked. “Oh, she was present,” Adelaide said bitterly and might have cried, so woebegone she looked! I placed one arm around her shoulders, comforting. I dearly wished to get more details from her then.

“Such things should be private,” I remarked, whereat to my surprise she said, “I know!” and twisted up her fingers more. Were her drawers down, I wondered? Was there then a feast of spitefulness in this for the Colonel's lady? “How many strokes did you receive?”

“Just six. No-four the first time, and then later six. She said… she said that I must feel the sting of it,” said Adelaide and gritted up her teeth. “Whereas you would rather have birched her,” I said most daringly, yet it came naturally to my tongue and- I believe-came rightly to her mood, with sweet surprise! “What?”

She could hardly then suppress a laugh of nervousness and some relief that I should have guessed it. “A young lady being birched sometimes wishes another one to be; it happens here-I observe it in their eyes,” I said, ignoring the fact (which she appeared not to have noticed) that I had not started yet! “Do they?” she blurted, eyes on mine, then said, “I mean…” “I know well what you mean, my dear. We have all in part been through it, have we not? A bared bottom soon attracts the eyes. Was yours then bared?” I had not meant to ask, but did. “No,” she said quickly and defensively, “well, at least…” I gathered from that only that her dress had been raised up.

“So I must be birched,” she then said dully. “I have my methods, Adelaide,” I said and stroked her back a little, felt it warm. There was a silence then, and then she asked, “What for?” and had a dull expression on again. Oh, goodness, I was not prepared for that! Such a direct enquiry is surely rare, I trust! “To bring you to the ways of womanhood,” said I and made her stare at me. “She wishes only to have me under her,” she said, and so brought my imaginings to truth. I smiled and kissed her brow, which must have surprised her but she did not move away. “You will be better under me, then will go under no one unless you wish it so. Antagonism sometimes conceals love, my dear-is brought to conceal the emotions.” “Do you think so?” she asked, and I believe indeed that there was a small and curious catch of hope in her voice. What deep waters was I treading here! “In your case, most certainly,” I replied and quite without meaning to I bore her back upon the bed and kissed her nose. “Perhaps she should have birched you on your own-as I may, if you are good,” I murmured. “Perhaps. I don't know. Shall you?” “If you are good, reveal all, reveal your innerness to me that I might guide you, Adelaide.” I kissed her lips- such lovely, curving lips! She lay inert. “Guide me,” she repeated in a flat tone, “but I have such wicked thoughts, I do, and never can reveal them to a soul.” “You must not tread in dangerous waters,” I hear you say, but certainty that I was right, in all my new and gathering thoughts, was rife in me. “Had you wished her to birch you, and both of you alone, would that have been a wicked thought?” I asked. She blushed and made to hide her face. “As I shall, with your drawers down, Adelaide,” said I, at which she gasped and would not look at me. I kissed her eyes, her cheeks-so velvet-soft. “She… she said once that she would birch me herself, but then Papa heard and said it was his task,” she muttered. “Then you are between the two, and only you can choose,” said I. “Oh, what do you mean by that?” she blurted, tried to say it crossly but could not. I then sat up, was wary of my would-be wandering hands that would have raised her skirt up there and then. “Only you can say, Adelaide, and will, in due course. There are no thoughts I recognise as wicked here. There are useful thoughts, and there are thoughts without any use at all, but I do not mind the latter, for they come and go like puffballs on a breeze.” “You believe no thoughts are wicked? It would help me much to know. I get confused, I really do,” she confessed and sat up, too, and rubbed her shoulder to mine. I had not bargained for such exactness, though! “I said, my pet, that there are no thoughts I recognise as wicked here-that is to say, thoughts which are contained in one when here, thoughts that arise. You would not think of killing anyone? That would be wicked-indeed all cruelty is. But as to pleasure- THAT is what I teach.” “B… b… but birching… that is cruel,” she whispered, though with uncertainty. “You are thinking of the circumstances of your birchings, and not the act itself. You wished her to see your bottom round and beautiful-not your Papa,” I ventured, at which she tried to mask her gaze. “'I do not think so, and anyway that is a wicked thought,” she mumbled. “Nonsense!” I said and laughed, adding (rather dangerously, you'll say!), “it will stir me in many different ways to castigate your own firm nether cheeks, which is to say that I shall desire to punish them and kiss them all at once.”

I had gone too far in my explanations, and my tongue was loose. I knew that, Julie, and yet sensed in her a quality that is not over-common. She will slip into certain ways with women, might abjure the men, but must learn under my firm hand to take both-now and then, at least. Do you agree? Oh heavens, another would-be entrant! I must fly! Forgive me if I have not told you more, but at the moment there is not much more to tell.

Your naughty imitator Caroline

Dear darling Caroline,

No more to tell? I'm sure there is-at least by the time this has wended to your shores (I feel in a poetic mood!) and crossed the countryside to you. You were a little brash, perhaps, with Adelaide, but who can better judge such things if they are not there to observe and take the temperature of all? No, I chide you not, though am intrigued to know how you ended up. By now her nether cheeks will surely have been scorched by you- though tenderly! Do I agree as to her future ways? I am not sure. I do not know her well! She may have a little penchant for the lady, or may be confused by jealousies. Such women who love other women only, will not wend to men and find them-as you really know-repulsive, or are just indifferent to them all. I am sure, however, from your tender description of your conversation with her that she has a girlish need for cock as much as for a finger or a tongue. Tickle her up a little and you'll soon discover! If she has the worth you say she has, and which at present is mainly hid within, then put her to the dildo after her third or fourth birching. And yet there is a mystery here. I know you sense it, too. Why else your conversation with the girl? It may be a matter hard to breach, my pet, but you must try. I know you will. There is a greater mystery, is there not, in the Colonel's mistress rather than in Adelaide? You see-you have intrigued me from the start! We have reversed our positions, as it were, and I am hungry now for all your news. My girls have all gone home for just a week. What a lovely silence has descended! I am not alone. Henri and Antoinette are here, and with them a most charming young man whose cock I have already milked-as also Antoinette has too! They brought with them a paddle-rather like a small tennis racquet, but the splatting end made of leather, and the handle wood. You must obtain one, or have one made. The effect is very moving-I can vouch for that!

I had my bottom basted by all three, in perfect merriment, and was then like a pupil of my own, put up to both the men in turn. The sound the paddle makes is the most exciting you can hear-much louder than the tawse and not so fierce, for the air pressure softens all the blows. So one may have three dozen, as I did, and get a really wriggling glow! Enough, though, of my fripperies. Tell me of yours. Or are you in more serious intent with Adelaide? My nose twitches, for I scent excitement there. Shall I be disappointed?