Anonymous - Aphrodizzia

The schoolboy tripped and yelled, kicked and farted, in a most extraordinary exhibition for one of England's ruling-class. Indeed, if any part of his anatomy remained stiff, it was certainly not his upper lip. Unfortunately for the boy, Elke had all the cruelty of a girl of sixteen who has yet to learn the limits of punishment. She thrashed his backside without remorse-on-and on- and on. They passed fifty strokes-and even a hundred. Weals appeared easily on the sting-swollen bum-cheeks and roseate droplets flowed. After a long time, while only the call of gulls and the measured lash of the whip disturbed the warm stillness of the beach, Elke laid down the cord. She chose a round pebble, the size of a plum. Moistening it well with cream from her reticule, she pressed it firmly between Algernon's buttocks until it vanished up the lad's arse. Algy's mouth and eyes went very round all at once, with surprise, consternation, and-who can tell?-perhaps just a dash of excitement. Elke bowed the cropped bell-shape of her brown hair, watching closely as she took the fledgling prick in one hand, laying it on her palm, and tickled Algernon's arsehole with the other forefinger. Despite his state, he was excited enough to jig his hips, moving his anus on the finger-tip and trying to rub his prick on the girl's palm. Elke gave the young penis a few tugs and squeezes, as if mocking it rather than encouraging it to perform. Yet even this was sufficient for Algernon's body to go suddenly tense and for the vent of his tool to spout a pool of sperm into Elke Mahne's palm. She studied it carefully, then left his member to dangle while she went to wash her hand in the tide. On returning she looked at poor Algy with distaste as he bent there with bathing drawers round his knees, his penis limp and his buttocks scalded. She pulled up the boy's pants and lifted the drowsy jelly-fish on the board. “Now you get some more of this,” she said disdainfully. While Master Algernon danced and sang into his gag, she again opened the back of his waistband and tipped the loathsome blubber into the seat of his pants. Stooping down she looked at the wildness in his eyes through the hole in the groin as he was stung anew for the first time. “I leave you for two hours,” she said quietly, “Then I tell your master where you are and what a dirty wretch you have been with your dicky hanging out. He will have you fetched and birched, I think,” Algy did not only think so-he knew it! The prospect of two hours torment from the savage stings, followed by a birching on his tortured buttocks quite unmanned him. In a last attempt to win a reprieve while Elke was within earshot, he danced and capered from the waist down, howled into his gag, kicked about and cursed lustily with sheer panic.

Elke Mahne turned away and went to find the two German boys with whom she was going to have a good time. They went later to lie by the bathing huts, under the eyes of respectable middle-class families and their children. Yet had you seen them in their tipsy state, Dolly, what would you have thought? Sixteen-year-old Elke was shouting and falling about as if drunk. It seems that the boys, in order to make her more pliable, had taken her somewhere and fed her on the powder of aspirin spiced with just the tiniest pinch of a drug. I have the details from the venerable Dr. Thwackum himself, who was walking back along the promenade and saw the entire spectacle of Elke and her two young ruffians on the shingle. (Ever since I told him of the conduct of Katharine and Claudia, the reverend headmaster has carried his own Kodak with him in case he should be able to take snapshots of other culprits in flagrante delictu.) Elke began to shout abuse, screaming “Salaud!” and other pleasantries at each boy as he lay with his arms about her. Then she would go limp and submit to his fondling.

Sometimes she would writhe against the boy eagerly and sometimes scream if one of them touched her. Indeed they were obliged to put their hands over her mouth. When a kindly man inquired if she was ill, Elke shouted that she was ill with heart-ache because no boys loved her! Insolent and hysterical, she shouted that she was Elke Mahne who had been to school in Vienna. Her cheeks were flushed, though sometimes she bowed the bell-shape of brown hair and covered her pert high-boned face with her hands. It was evident that after her amusement with Master Algernon, she had taken the aspirin and a dash of something else to lift her spirits high. She lay inert on her side, facing the boy who had his arms about her. The promenaders gazed at the tight and softly filled seat of her faded jeans which she turned to them. At sixteen years old, Elke Mahne's bottom-cheeks had a slight fatness and width to them which was as yet seductive, though it would be excessive in a few years more. When the boy who was lying with her slid his hands into her jeans, Elke's feet twined together with excitement. She drew her knees up a little. Dr. Thwack-urn's photographs show the soft ripe cheeks of Elke Mahne's arse in the faded denim, squirming and tensing together as the boy masturbated her gently. High on the soaring excitement, Elke screamed and submitted alternately. She gave not a thought to the wretched Master Algernon, stuck through the hole in the wooden groin, the jelly-fish in his pants and the pinions holding him. Dr. Thwackum would gladly have stayed to attend to the girl himself. As luck would have it, however, he was due at a meeting of the college governors in half an hour. Yet he had promised himself that he would print the photographs as soon as possible and send copies to me. You believe yourself to be a moralist, Dolly? Then how much you would have in common with Jonathan Bonaventure Thwackum, D.D. Scholar of Magdalen College, his career at Oxford ended when he narrowly missed a Fellowship of All Souls. Rural Dean, Archdeacon, Canon of Long Sarum, he chose the life of a headmaster before that of a bishop. His aim with the birch has all the exactitude and precision of his textual scholarship. He is, of course, a man underneath all that. You recall Sian, my sluttish Welsh housemaid with the red tresses? I am not unaware that she visits his bachelor apartments on certain evenings and returns next day richer by a few sovereigns.

However, let us not sneer at his weaknesses for he is a resolute disciplinarian. On hearing of the fate of Katharine and Claudia, he begged me to avail myself of his skill with a birch if any of the girls require it. I had resolved to let him birch nineteen-year-old Sian. For the rest, I would keep them to myself. By the time that Elke recovered herself, the boys had left her and she was lying on the beach alone. It was past five o'clock and in an hour more she must be back on these premises or incur the penalty of absence. Though still dressed, she was wet between the legs and moist at the rear, for the boys had made a farewell gesture of masturbating her and popping several well oiled peanuts up Elke Mahne's arsehole. As she began to walk back, clearing the muzziness of her head, she evidently saw that the luckless Master Algernon was still fastened bending through the hole in the groin. Little as she cared for the appalling torment he must have suffered, Elke walked towards the scene, no doubt remembering her promise to send a message to Dr. Thwackum and ensure the lad was birched. She walked within fifty yards of the poor victim without noticing anything amiss. Then a frown appeared on her pretty high-boned face. The legs protruding from the bathing-drawers were mere sticks of wood! Before she could turn round, four strong middle-school bullies who had chanced to find poor Algernon and rescue him, seized the Austrian girl firmly. Algy himself stepped out from concealment. “That's her,” he said savagely. How the tables were now turned! While Elke screamed and cursed, they bundled her to the hole in the groin and forced her head and shoulders through it.