Anonymous - A Man with a Maid IV

Alice had already stationed herself behind the lovely and deceitful Wilhelmina, and posing her left hand on the girl’s neck, applied a tentative slap over each saucy bottom-summit.

“Gracious, Jack,” she called to me, “her bottom’s very hard and elastic. It will wear out my poor little hand long before she has had her count.”

“You are not to give her the entire chastisement of which she is long overdue with that soft little hand, my darling,” I responded. “Did I not tell you that this was but a prelude to the more serious part of her chastisement? You shall punish her as hard and as long as your hand can endure it, and you will tell yourself that when you have finished she will have had her share for the theft of your three pounds. You will leave the rest to me.”

“I do think,” Alice petulantly observed, for she had, I now perceived, become as sensitive as any voluptuary in the nuances of our charming games, “that this bulky shirt is really in the way and the tails of it hide her bottom.”

“In that case my dear, you have only to roll it up and perhaps drape it over her head. That will be an excellent idea, moreover, since it will serve as a blindfold and she will not know when to expect the smacks.”

No sooner said than done. With a gay little cry of delight, my lovely Alice seized the tails of the offending shirt, rolled them up and dragged them over the victim’s head, whilst I, not to be outdone in chivalry, aided her in front so that in a moment the white, thickly starched shirt completely muffled and veiled the wistful, charming oval face which I had originally taken as that of a boy.

“Oh sir, I beg of you if-if I must be punished, at least let her do it then,” came the imploring, sobbing supplication, muffled by the shirt. “It’s not decent for you to see me this way, sir, it truly isn’t! Oh, do be kind and let her punish me, and do you leave the room, I beg of you humbly!”

Now, this speech was not that of a course young ruffian from the slums of Soho or Newcastle, not one whit of it! The husky, tremulous voice and excellent diction made me suspect that Wilhelmina Ponsonby had a history far more intriguing than the concocted tale she had tried to pass off to excuse her theft of Alice’s money. She had a sick aunt, she had been trying to find work, so she had got this post at Willoughby’s and fallen victim to the temptation of seeing my fiancйe’s open purse. No, it was much too pat. But I have found that the birch, when judiciously applied to the tenderest parts of a young lady’s anatomy, is a remarkable panacea for prevarication. And after Alice had inflicted the smack-bottom to which I had sentenced charming Wilhelmina, I meant to preside as master of the rod and draw from my felonious impersonatress a less mendacious story.

“Now I think you may safely go to it, Alice, and there is no need to hurry, since we have all evening before us,” I observed. I seated myself on a footstool at some distance from the gasping, squirming captive, not wishing to fall prey to one of her sporadic kicks, for those black patent-leather shoes seemed very stiff and solid, and my shins are exceptionally tender, I lit a cigar and reveled in the good life that lay before us, for if this was an augury of the felicitous hours that Alice and I should pass once we had exchanged our vows before the minister, then life would be indeed serene, and all my fears of losing my freedom would prove unfounded.

Alice rolled up the sleeves of her pretty frock, displaying those lovely plump, white arms whose tender, moist skin I had so often kissed and stroked in my moments of tender delight with her, but her pretty face was now implacably cruel as with narrowed eyes and compressed lips she posed herself as executioner behind the culprit, and once again placing her left palm at about the neck of the victim, she launched a ferocious openhanded smack on the right buttock and then, moving quickly to the left, equalized matters with as hard and crisp a spank on the other bottomcheek.

“ Ohh dear! ” Wilhelmina anxiously gasped out, squirming and twisting and yanking on her bonds.

“Not so hard and fast at first, or you will numb not only the surface you are attacking, but your charming hand as well, my dear,” I advised.

“You are right, of course, Jack. It’s just that I can’t tolerate the airs this wicked little thieving minx gives herself. So you would steal my money out of my own purse and in my fiancй’s own quarters, would you? There, take that -and that as well! I’m going to make you howl, my girl! Gracious, what a hard, solid bottom you have! It’s like a rock! I only wish I could give you the birch as you so richly deserve. There! Did you feel that one? And that one, too! There, and there!”

It was plain that Alice was working herself up into an erotic fury of sadistic joy, judging from the lovely flush that pervaded her face, the way her eyes sparkled now and her nostrils twitched and shrank. Her magnificent titties rose and fell with an emotion they had not till this moment had, as she drew back her right hand and brought it forward smartly and noisily across the thin-knicker-sheathed contours of Wilhelmina’s lovely, resilient bottom. The crisp sound of the spanks was music to my ears, as you may well imagine, and already my prick was stimulated by this symphonic music to which it was indoctrinated by none other than fair Alice herself, and in this very room.

I must confess that Wilhelmina bore her smacking well enough, and it was probably shame at knowing herself to be half-naked before a gentleman’s eyes, whilst being chastised by a young lady’s hand, that drew from her the flurried little sobs and groans and cries with which she announced almost each of those stinging smacks. But the force of Alice’s blows made her prance, if I may accurately employ that term, for she seemed to execute a kind of hopping skip from foot to foot, lunging herself forward and bending her back deliciously, only to be drawn back within the stern limits of the pulley’s range, ever pressing her back towards the avenging hand of lovely Alice. Shifting constantly from foot to foot, squirming her hips from side to side, she began at last to show that this seemingly innocuous and juvenile correction was having its effect, for at length she began to groan and then to sob: “Oww! Oh my! Oh dear! Oh, do send him away, he’s looking at me, I know he is!” and then, “ Ouch! Oh, it hurts! Oh, please that’s enough, I told you I’d return the money- Ahhrr! Oh, do please stop-make an end of it!”

At last Alice did make an end of it, because she was out of breath and she was ruefully blowing on her hand and examining it, and I could see that it was red and inflamed. But I was anxious to know whether the flesh she had been smacking so enthusiastically was of the same coloration by now. Moreover, it was time for the birch to come into play.

So we let our victim sob and gasp and turn and twist at the end of her wrist-ropes, whilst I returned to the bucket of brine in which I always kept a thick and a long, slim birch soaking, just in the event that, like that never-to-be-forgotten afternoon last week, I was visited by Molly Bashe and her provocative and arrogant companion, Miss Julia Denton.

“Now it is your turn to sit and watch and compose yourself, dear Alice,” I told my fiancйe. “Wilhelmina, are you ready for your birching? I warn you that it will be severe, because you have not been honest with us in the least.”

“Oh Lord,” our lovely prisoner tearfully gasped from beneath and muffling and blindfolding confines of the white starched man’s shirt drawn over her head, “I can only implore you, sir, in the name of decency, to retire and let your lady chastise me if you are so determined that I must be further punished.”