Anonymous - Maude Cameron And Her Guardian

“ On the contrary, Maude, I should say that you were never so much alive as at this moment,” was his taunting reply as he delivered yet another blow, this one bounding over the base of her tightening, contracting naked buttocks and whisking the ends of the twigs on towards the tenderest spot of all. His eyes glittered as he saw how her rounded young thighs flexed in a muscular spasm as she sought to clench her legs against the evil inroads of the birch, and he shuddered with voluptuous delight at the hideous wail of pain that was torn from his helpless young ward.

“ Oh, forgive me, Uncle Charles! I’ ll do what you want. Only do stop, I pray you!” Maude entreated in a tear- choked voice as she turned her contorted face over a dimpled young shoulder in a humble effort to propitiate her relentless executioner.

“ These are still crocodile tears, I fear,” he judiciously pronounced as he patted her naked bottom once again, this time an inch or two above the base. In due time the rod swept over the chosen area, and now the scratchy little blue splotches left by the fresh twigs began to appear on the once velvety, unmarked, pink, glossy bottomflesh. Already on the floor were strewn about several twigs which were broken off as the birch collided insistently with Maude’ s appetizing young behind.

Pausing a moment to contemplate his handiwork, Charles Cameron now moved over to the right to “ touch up” the left side of Maude’ s bare seat, which had been relatively untouched by the birching thus far. Four or five slowly spaced and solid strokes drew feverish cries and sobbing exhortations to him to spare her and promises that she would obey him in all things. Deaf to these pleas, however, Charles Cameron did not allow himself to be softened by her distress and pain, but now lowered the birch to the floor and remarked dryly, “ There is an area which I have neglected thus far, so I will try a little remedy. Attention to the birch, my girl!” And with this, and with a dexterous twist of his wrist, he sent the ends of the switches leaping up between the gaping thighs, so that their tips flicked into the soft inner region between the dancing, huddling bare bottomcheeks. Maude seemed to arch herself up, her back hollowing, her hips wildly jerking in the most convulsive spasms, and then her head fell back, her eyes staring at the ceiling, and her hand heedlessly rushed between her thighs to rub away the smarting sting, as an incoherent scream was drawn from her.

“ I think another in the same spot will really make you conducive to humility, my girl,” he observed as once again he lowered the birch to the floor, took careful aim, then sent it surging upwards to bite between the distended hemispheres of his ward’ s naked, well- striped bottom. A long- drawn scream of agony testified to the diabolical efficacy of that perfidious cut, and Maude’ s hips swung from side to side, lunged forward, then back, putting her wealed bare bottom into the most exciting state of agitated reaction imaginable.

“ No ideas have come to you yet about how your free hand may mitigate your sufferings?” he slyly hinted as he paused once more as he moved back to the left and patted the sobbing girl’ s lower buttocks with the now frayed birch rod.

“ Oh- no- no- no- oh for God’ s sake, Uncle Charles- I can’ t bear any more. I shall die. I know I shall. Oh, do let me off and I’ ll be so good to you!” Maude tearfully sobbed her entreaty.

“ Girls don’ t die from being birched, Maude, but on the contrary are made far more alert and docile,” was his reply as he delivered two quick cuts which this time bounded diagonally from right to left across the inflamed, dancing naked bottom of his ward, each followed by a strangled cry of pain and a frantic lunging this way and that.

His face flushed, his eyes sparkling, his chest heaving, Charles Cameron reveled in the domination of his beautiful, helpless young ward, the sight of whose suffering furnished him with the most powerful erotic impulse one can imagine. Now a pile of strewn twigs on the floor all around the tethered girl indicated the severity and energy with which he had directed the bulky rod across her vulnerable hindquarters. But this did not deter him, as he patted the top of her right end with the ends of the switches, then sent another diagonal cut switching over both palpitating, striped bottomglobes.

“ Oh, don’ t, I beseech you, do have mercy now, it cuts me like a knife, it rips and tears me, dear Uncle Charles,” Maude screamed, again half turning to him, tears running down her flushed cheeks, her nostrils flaring and shrinking, her rosy little mouth twisted in her suffering.

Charles Cameron did not answer, but patted the lower part of her bottom again and applied, with about thirty seconds between each, three successive wicked little cuts which made her lunge and dash about in the most uninhibited way conceivable. Then he concluded this first part of her chastisement with a solid, swishing blow which made the bulky bundle of switches dance against her plump bottom summits and drew the wildest cry yet from this young sufferer a s he cast the frayed rod to the floor and stood panting with excitement as his eyes drank in the uncontrolled choreography which is known as the dance of the rod and which this beautiful young girl so breathtakingly performed for his own private gratification.

Drawing up a little footstool and seating himself on it, Charles Cameron lit a cheroot and in leisurely manner gave himself respite while at the same time intoxicated himself with the visual and aural aftermath of this first half of his ward’ s punishment. The groans and sobs and pleas which emanated from the tethered young sufferer were music to his ears, and now, heedless to his presence, poor Maude dashed her left hand back to her blazing bottom and rubbed away without caring what a spectacle she made of herself. The skin was broken nowhere, but here and there, particularly at sensitive places near the shadowy crease which separated the globes one could see dark splotches and stigmata as evidences that the birching had been rather severe. From bright pink, the weals had turned dark red, and stood out against the glossy pink epidermis with an indelible quality that left no doubt as to the graduated severity of the castigation.

When he had full control of himself again and the cheroot was half smoked, Charles Cameron extinguished the latter and then languidly rose and walked over to where his ward stood on tiptoe, still rubbing her furiously smarting bottom. Satisfied that her distress was not feigned, he walked over to procure the long- handled bath brush and then walked back to face her. “ Are you sufficiently humbled by now, my girl?” he asked as he pressed the bristles directly between her shaking, straddled thighs, so that their sharp, prickling filaments probed against the most sacrosanct portion of her person.

Maude could only gasp and groan, so overwhelmed was she by the myriad sensations that assailed her. Whimpering, she arched her back and strove to evade stabbing kisses of the bristles in so sensitive a nook, thereby thrusting out the inflamed naked bottomcheeks in the most indecent way. He drew back the brush and applied a gentle forward- driving path, so that the bristles bit against the dark golden triangle of her love- cleft.

“ Oh, not there! For God’ s sake, please not there, Uncle Charles!” Maude shrieked as she plunged her bottom out still more and grabbed for the hurt part with her free hand.

“ You must answer when I speak to you, my girl,” he remarked as he gave her another cruel little tap with the bristled side of the brush, right into the furry thicket of her maidenhood.

“ Oh, arrr, yes, yes, for God’ s sake, yes I am, dear Uncle Charles. Don’ t hit me there with that awful brush, oh, please, not between my legs! I entreat you so!”