Augustus and Lady Maude

by AnonYMous

  Bowler, smiling, showed her rose from the grey-haired bush of a man in his fifties. But his magisterial balls were swollen big and tight with a prodigious load of sperm, thus defeating the objection. Those unfamiliar with the art of discipline may complain that all the pleasure was to be Mr. Bowler's. Noreen must lie there and receive the spending in her arse with no reward or enjoyment. Yet justice often employs deplorable means for laudable purposes. To cut off a man's head or to disembowel him was prescribed by our law as punishment for treason. To hang a woman or to whip a girl has been a cornerstone of jurisprudence. The Romans made a faithless young wife wear a massive radish up her bottom. How lewd these things would be-how barbaric!-unless sanctioned by law. How trivial, by comparison, was the ordeal which Magistrate Bowler inflicted upon Noreen to curb her insolence! “Another rubber pillow under your belly, Noreen, to swell your bare bottom out even fuller! Excellent! Why, you offer your young buttocks parted as shamelessly as any bride on her honeymoon night!” Held by the straps, Noreen was obliged to lie bottom-upwards over the pillows and present her anus to the magistrate. The amount she must receive in her arse would not be determined by what she could take but by what Mr. Bowler needed to spend. The brown eyes under her level fringe slanted fury at him and the points of her broad cheekbones glowed with anger! The springs of the divan creaked as Mr. Bowler ignored this and sat down level with her waist and racing her feet. He tightened his left arm over her waist to steady her and bowed his gaze. The pale swelling globes of Noreen's behind deserved his attention. He settled down for a long browsing and kissing upon them. Leather strained noisily as Noreen pulled at her wrist-cuffs and gasped her detestation of what was being done to her. Mr. Bowler paused from time to time and smilingly wagged his stiffness in her face. “It makes your buttocks tighten to see the size of the knob, Noreen! Can this truly be your first time?”

  Those whose ears were pressed to the door heard the unscrewing of the vaseline jar. Noreen exclaimed in anger and refusal. One heard a slipperiness being smeared between her rear cheeks. When the springs creaked again, there was a suggestion of Mr. Bowler kneeling astride and much talk of the hammerhead knocking for admission at the tight rear entrance. One caught the whisper of Noreen's dark hair threshing from side to side as she squirmed and gasped her refusal. “No! I won't! I won't! Oh, no-o-o-o-o!” The shrillness of the last syllable told its own story of the drama. Noreen, frantic not to have it, was getting it just the same. Mr. Bowler gasped a tribute to the tightness of the rear dimple which passed so thrillingly over his knob and Noreen gave a cry of panic as she felt him press in to the very hilt. Through clenched teeth once more, she panted out her contempt and revulsion for him. But Mr. Bowler was able to enjoy himself at will. For half an hour the springs moved in a steady rhythm. Then they moved faster and with more vigour. Mr. Bowler breathed hard, like a champion winning a race. His fleshy muzzle became a load in Noreen's backside of which the girl desperately needed to ease herself. When his climax came, the tightness of her nineteen-year-old bum on his shaft was exquisite. He shot jet after jet of thick passion into the depths of Noreen's bottom, as a sound of repugnance rose from her throat. Tearing paper from the roll, he mopped a final splash or two of his passion from Noreen's bottom-cheeks and wiped the guilty vaseline smears from between them. Decency forbade that the compromising paper should be found in the folds of Noreen's sheets by a female guardian. Making a convenient wad, he therefore thumbed it firmly into Noreen's behind. Yet he could not resist leaving the last corner protruding like a little flag. It added a suggestive rudeness to Noreen's rear view which would greatly increase the enthusiasm of the magistrates who watched her punished that night. An hour later the turnkeys came for her. Noreen's knickers and riding-jeans were pulled up. Then three of these stalwart fellows escorted her to the vault, where the county magistrates and their ladies were waiting eagerly to see justice done. A strapping young trollop of Noreen's kind is always punished to the limit on these occasions. It is therefore prudent to inflict the discipline at dead of night in one of the soundproof and subterranean vaults. The guests, including Lord Augustus, were assembled there. Gaslight flared on the whitewashed walls of the stone-flagged room. Two hurdles of heavy timber, their top bars padded with leather, were bolted to the floor, parallel to each other and a few feet apart, restraining straps riveted to their structure. An array of whips lay on a nearby table. It was about half an hour before midnight when a door opened and we glimpsed Noreen in her white singlet and working-denim. She was struggling with a wild energy in the grip of the three turnkeys who were propelling her to the place of punishment. How desperately Noreen fought and panted to break free! How violently she braced her strong young legs against the flagstones, contesting every inch of the way! There was still anger in the slant of her brown eyes. Her mouth and chin remained tight with defiance. The collar-length of her lank dark hair fell about her face as she bowed her shoulders and twisted her arms against the grip of the men. The washed jeans-denim strained taut over the sturdy mounds of Noreen's bum-cheeks as she squirmed her hips and cursed her captors, lunging with her haunches to drive the men from her. At nineteen years old, Noreen is a strongly built girl but fortunately the three men were more than a match for her. They made her bend forward over the first of the hurdles, both structures being built of solid timbers, heavy and substantial enough to support her easily. Being bolted to the floor and equipped with stout straps, they also held her very securely. While they bent her over the first hurdle, the men drew her arms out at full stretch in front of her and fastened them down by the wrist-cuffs on the further hurdle. This bar on which her wrists were pinioned could be raised or lowered. By lowering it, the gaoler would be able to make Noreen bend over very tightly indeed. It was only to be expected that he would want to do that so that the girl offered a more sexually suggestive target for the whip. It was important that he should feel randy while punishing Noreen for that would ensure she was whipped soundly. The hurdle which supported her belly had a harness strap quite three inches broad. They tightened this round her bare waist to hold her firmly down. Bending over like this, Noreen was made to present a most provoking and full-cheeked rear view. The faded washed-out jeans-denim was excitingly tight and smooth over the broadened mounds of her buttocks. The sight which she offered would have made any man a disciplinarian 1 She flicked back the dark spilling hair, and the slant of her brown eyes under her level fringe shone with hatred for the three men. One man smiled, standing behind her. His hands began to feel and fondle her rear cheeks through the skin-tight jeans-seat.

  Noreen panted and twisted, trying in vain to evade his stroking. He chuckled as he felt her through the smooth denim. “Did you never have men feeling you like this at your work, Noreen? You'll get plenty of it here, I promise you! I must just feel between the back of your legs. Ah, yes! A nice soft swell of pussy-flesh in your pants! Now the cheeks of your strapping young bottom, Noreen! You're wearing panties underneath, aren't you, Noreen? I can just feel the outline of some tight-fitting briefs. Did you think the justices might let you wear your cotton briefs while you were whipped, Noreen? Why, mat would spoil the fun for them! You'll have your panties taken down, never fear. You must feel the snakeskin lash on your bare bottom!” The men left her with the flutter of panic in her young belly growing to real fright. The gaoler made her wait for half an hour in this torment of suspense. Then he arrived and chose two whips from the table. One was a leather switch about four feet long, slim and wickedly supple.

  The other was the woven snakeskin of the short pony-lash. Without speaking to her, he undid Noreen's riding-jeans at the waist. She twisted her legs, gasping and struggling to prevent him stripping her, but he wrenched the denim down and off. Soon Noreen's knickers also lay in an untidy tangle round her ankles. The gaoler studied the broad-cheeked pallor of Noreen's bottom as she bent over the hurdles.

  He smiled as he glimpsed her sex at the rear of her thighs. Then he spoke to her. “Later on I'll make you ben
d over even tighter, Noreen. I want you to look as big-bottomed as possible when I whip you. There's no need for pretence here. I shall very much enjoy thrashing you. I'll bend you tighter presently so that you show much more between the backs of your legs. And I'll want your bottom-cheeks stretched hard apart so that I can see everything between them while I whip you, Noreen!” While he was talking to her, two stable-lads slipped into the vault. They hid by the buttresses, having a rear view of Noreen, so that the girl saw them every time she twisted her head round. The younger lad was still shy. He stood facing the wall, watching Noreen over his shoulder. His hands were clasped in his lap and he seemed to be holding some trinket which he polished vigorously.

  The older boy unbuttoned proudly and directed Noreen's gaze to the fine stiffness which he held in his hand. The insolence in her brown eyes gave way to dismay as he showed it to her so openly. He wanted Noreen to know that he was greatly excited by her bare rear view and that he was eagerly looking forward to seeing the shopgirl's backside dance to the tune of the whip! The gaoler flexed the supple length of his leather switch. “Now get arse-upwards over the hurdle, Noreen, you young tart! Get right over it! Properly! To enforce this, he lowered the forward hurdle bar to which her wrists were strapped, making the nineteen-year-old girl bend over more tightly. This caused the robust pale mounds of Noreen's buttocks to be pulled apart a little more. There were smiles of amusement from the onlookers as they glimpsed the little flag of paper peeping out between Noreen's bum-cheeks. The two stable-lads pumped their stiffnesses still harder with excitement at this. These young scamps would greatly have enjoyed making Noreen submit to various indignities of the toilet and hoped that they would soon have the chance. The remarks of the worthy magistrates who watched left Noreen in no doubt that we had seen the vulgar sight she offered! Was it anger or humiliation which caused the glow at the points of her broad cheekbones? She sometimes wears her lank dark hair in a collar-length pony-tail and the gaoler now gathered it back in this style and slipped a rubber band round it to hold it. One could now see the slant of resentment in her brown eyes and the defiant resolve in the line of her chin and firm young features. “The justices must see your face while you're being thrashed, Noreen,” the gaoler said. “They like to see how you're taking it. All the men and women here approve of a really pitiless whipping given to a young trollop like you with such a strapping young bottom!” The handle of the four-foot leather switch was thick as his thumb but the whip tapered to a point that was fine as a pencil tip. Smiling, he touched the back of Noreen's thigh, high up, with the quiveringly fine bobble-tip of the whip. We smiled as well to see how she flinched from the cold menace of the leather.

  For a little while longer he teased the nineteen-year-old wench, stroking the whip gently down each bare flank of her hips. When Noreen bends or kneels forward on all fours at her work, her hips have that natural feminine slope which broadens downwards to the top of her legs. As he caressed her with the leather switch one could hear the light sounds of her legs smoothing together in panic and the heavier breathing of her fright. Then, as if a signal had been given, we knew the punishment was about to begin. All smiles faded and each mouth was tightened in severity. The gaoler's voice was hard and humourless. “You fat-arsed young tart, Noreen! Fifty strokes of the whip across your bare bottom-cheeks to begin with! Bend right over and keep your backside facing the magistrates!” Without waiting for her response, he raised the quivering switch high behind his shoulder. Light flashed from the polished leather as he brought it down with ear-stunning force across the pale fattened cheeks of Noreen's backside. To our delight, Noreen's gasp of anguish at the impact rose to a wild cry as the torment swelled to a climax over several seconds. At the moment when the ferocity of the first whip-smack reached its fullest, the gaoler brought the whip down again across the squirming cheeks of Noreen's bottom in a still more vicious stroke. Though she was a strong and broad-hipped girl, the searching intensity of the redoubled smart paralysed Noreen in sound and movement! Her hands were clenched into fists, her leg-muscles tightened as with cramp, and she was up on her toes with the exquisite white fire of the lash. Far from allowing her a respite, the gaoler touched the switch lightly, aiming across the lower and fatter swell of the young saddle-dresser's buttocks. He knew how sensitive that softer fullness of Noreen's backside would be. With savage accuracy he made that pallid fatness jump under the whip's impact.

  With rapid strokes, he whipped her again-again-and yet again-across that sensitive undercurve. Noreen screamed and writhed, her shrillness quickening the excitement of the watching justices. She twisted her face round, her brown eyes wider and her mouth distended in the wildness of her cries. It was only to be expected that the gaoler should want to make Noreen scream as the whip caught her backside. Her shrillness was a tribute to his art. As a disciplinarian he was also bound to enjoy whipping her-cruelly low across her buttocks with the leather switch. Indeed, he now aimed the quivering wand across the light flesh-crease dividing her buttocks and upper thighs. To hear a robust young wench like Noreen shriek as she did then is a rare experience. No wonder the gaoler whipped hard again across the rising weal he had just inflicted. The ladies of fashion smiled privately behind their fans as they watched all this. Each gentleman-magistrate now felt the front of his trousers growing uncomfortably tight and longed to unbutton such stiffness. The stable-lads were more fortunate, watching Noreen's short pony-tail of dark hair sweep her collar as she twisted her face round and yelled frantically for a respite. Concealed from their elders but close behind the bending girl, the lads met the frenzy in Noreen's brown eyes with open-mouthed delight. Each of them urged her to look at his fine handful which he pumped vigorously. “Turn your arse towards us properly, Noreen! Lets have a good look at those whip-marks on your bum-cheeks! He's given you some real beauties across your fat young arse, Noreen! I'd love to change places with him for half an hour!

  He's cut your bottom twice with the riding-switch, Noreen!… Was it old Bowler who poked the paper up into your backside, Noreen? I bet it makes the old magistrates randy to see you like that! They enjoy making you look like a rude girl!… Open your legs and show us between them… Bend over tightly so that the whip cuts your bottom, Noreen! You'll be a pretty sight when they finish with you… I hope they leave you alone with us, Noreen!” The switch smacked peremptorily across Noreen's bottom. Her fattened young backside writhed and surged on the bar. One did not blame a gaoler's severity, seeing the sight the girl offered. Noreen's buttocks were interlaced by plum-coloured weals, which naturally made the gaoler want to be truly sadistic with her. When a well-built and insolent girl of nineteen like Noreen shows such brand-marks of the whip across her bare arse, no true moralist takes pity on her. The sight of the whip's weals across her bottom-cheeks show him how badly she needs to be corrected and the sight of Noreen's bum-cheeks in such a state would be bound to put certain cruel ideas into his mind. To have Noreen's bottom-cheeks smarting so untouchably from the whip and then to have the chance of thrashing her hard in such a responsive state would be an excitement for many men and even some women! One also excuses the gaoler's severity because Noreen, now arse-upwards over the hurdle-bar, was writhing her thrashed bottom in anguish, a twisting and surging which might almost have been an erotic dance. This display she offered would have been seductively lascivious even if performed before her bridegroom on her honeymoon night to entice him to bed.

  Indeed, though her boyfriend was obliged to express indignation at the sentence of reformatory detention passed upon her, he would secretly have loved to see her arse bucking and squirming under the gaoler's whip. A young tart like Noreen is not of the kind to whom a man swears his life. Private information assures me that her boyfriend bribed the stable-boys for details of the whipping. He paid several guineas for photographs of the scene taken after the thrashing had been in progress for more than an hour. Several were of Noreen's defiant young face, the brown eyes under the level fringe of her dark hair bri
mming with tears and her mouth distended in a frantic scream. Others were full-plate camera studies of the bare cheeks of Noreen's bottom, tapestried by welts of the pony-whip and with a dozen wine-red trickles down them from her cuts. So roused was he that he had to use the stable-lads' remedy at once. Later he assured Mr. Bowler that he would make no more objection to the sentence of eighteen months which Noreen was to serve. Indeed, he made a private complaint against her so that she might be held for twelve months more! Such moral resolve is always rewarded here. The young man was apprenticed to a gaoler in another county, for it was thought better to part him from Noreen for good. Meanwhile, the gaoler who dealt with Noreen that night was unbearably tantalised by glimpses of her cunt and views between her bottom-cheeks as she writhed. He thrashed the supple riding-switch aslant her buttocks and saw her jam one knee into the back of the other as she tried desperately to contain the agony. The whip smacked her bum-cheeks again and the young whore actually dared to try and kick out at him with her strong bare legs! 'Punish her well for that, Mr. Gaoler!' said Mr. Bowler. 'See that you whip the young slut's legs as well as her backside!' So the flashing leather of the supple switch smacked savagely across the broad rounding cheeks of Noreen's bare bottom again… and again… a slash of the whip high up on the rear of her thighs..-. again… the whip across the backs of her knees… again… and again… the whip high across the rear of her thighs… across the backs of her knees again… and again… her thighs again… and again… a smack of the riding-switch across Noreen's bottom… across her thighs… thighs… thighs… bottom… Noreen screaming wildly… her dark lank hair breaking from its short pony-tail and flying this way and that… a cruel cut of the whip across the lower fatness of Noreen's bottom-cheeks… another across that fetter curve of her buttocks…