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birch in the boudoir introduction birch in the boudoir Chapter 1 birch in the boudoir Chapter 2 birch in the boudoir Chapter 3 birch in the boudoir Chapter 4 birch in the boudoir Chapter 5 birch in the boudoir Chapter 6 birch in the boudoir Chapter 7 birch in the boudoir Chapter 8 birch in the boudoir Chapter 9 birch in the boudoir Chapter 10 birch in the boudoir Chapter 11 birch in the boudoir Chapter 12 birch in the boudoir Chapter 13 birch in the boudoir Chapter 14 birch in the boudoir Chapter 15 birch in the boudoir Postscript

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Birch in the Boudoir

LETTER 4

RAMALLAH, 4 MAY 1904

My dearest Charlie,

Faithful to my promise, as ever, I write by the first post for England to tell you of the amusements which I have witnessed since our arrival in this place. Alas, my sweet, we must be separated for weeks - perhaps months - but I vow I shall entertain you with anything of a frisky nature which comes my way. Thus you may know that your adoring Lizzie still cares for you as fondly as ever, and longs only to keep your spirits up and your resolve stiff until our next dear embraces.

How shall I begin! A few hours after our ship docked, we were borne away in a regal carriage to the residence which my father enjoys here as Britannia's ambassador. Cool, white-panelled rooms awaited us behind a garden of palm trees and purple bougainvillea. All is gilt and embossed, fit for the king himself. And yet what tedium would this have promised me-so much empty ceremonial and dull diplomacy - had it not been for the kindness of the Pasha of Ramallah.

The Pasha is a delightful companion, witty and courteous, always deferential to my rank and sensibilities as the daughter of a British envoy. He is a darkly handsome man of about forty, educated at the best schools in England and then at the Sorbonne. His house, overlooking the deep blue of the bay, is grand enough for a palace. Yet it is nothing to his country estate, some twenty miles away in a desert oasis, where he keeps his wealth and his harem.

Ah, you wicked boy! Do I sense that your ears prick up at the word "harem"?' Come, I will not scold you! To speak the truth, I was so intrigued by the notion, that my longing to see the beautiful slave girls in their silken and perfumed prison of love was quite as strong as is your own. However, my dearest, I, as a mere woman, might hope to be admitted there. You, alas, never could.

At first, indeed, it seemed to me that even I should never manage to prompt an invitation from the Pasha to visit that private place. We were, of course, given a general invitation to visit the fine country house. Charlie, you never saw the like of it! The oasis is a green island in an ocean of brilliantly white desert sand. A high wall surrounds the place, and it is well guarded by his soldiers to keep marauders away. Inside are the most beautiful ornamental gardens with little hills, lakes, paths, temples of delight, and the bright, perfumed flowers of Arabia.

What shall I say of the house itself? It is a place of marble courtyards and ornate fountains, colonnades of Moorish arches, like the Alhambra itself. The rooms are sometimes open and sunny, sometimes deep and mysteriously dark, the scent of burnt spice rising from the braziers. England knows nothing as rich as the secret world of bright silks and dark tapestries, the stools and sofas which seem made to shape a woman's body to her lover's commands.

However great my curiosity, I was careful not to show undue interest in the harem at first. I talked of it casually to the Pasha. Charlie! What do you think? He confessed to a taste for English and European girls as well as Arabian, Indian, and even Caribbean. I could not object to this, knowing that my father's power rendered me entirely safe. Yet my eagerness to see the beauties of his seraglio was now keener than ever.

To my astonishment, he said casually, "If you are free to come on your own tomorrow, I shall order Nabyla to take you to the gallery from which you can view my treasures."

Can you doubt that I seized this opportunity at once? I was protected from harm by the position of my family and, even had this not been the case, my ravening curiosity would soon have conquered my misgivings. It is rare enough for a guest - man or woman - to see the beauties of the harem. What was still more provoking in this case was the knowledge that the Pasha of Ramallah had such a splendid collection of European odalisques as well as those of warmer climes.

Next afternoon, I was punctual to the minute. After the usual compliments had been exchanged, my host summoned a young Arabian beauty, Nabyla, who was to be my guide. She had a taut, swaggering voluptuousness of figure, skin like dark-gold satin, fiery eyes, and a sweep of silky black hair. In her company I was led to a gallery of white-and-black marble arches, rather like a cloister, which ran round one of the main rooms. Latticework filled the spaces of the archways so that we were able to spy upon the occupants without being seen ourselves.

Sunlight filtered through coloured glass high overhead, illuminating one of the Pasha's favourites. My guide explained to me in English that this was Tania, a girl of twenty, from the Pasha's European collection. I was taken at once by the soft prettiness of her face and figure, her rather short crop of brown curls clustered on her forehead. Such a pert female cherub, I thought, the nose neat and straight, the chin nicely tucked in. Her sun-kissed face has, I imagine, a delightful tendency to dimple when she smiles. As with most girls from that eastern clime, her cheekbones are high and her blue eyes shadowed by them.

As we observed her, Tania was by no means fully dressed. She boasted only a snug-fitting, white singlet and a pair of light-blue denim drawers, which were tight as skin from her waist to her knees. We came upon her in this charming costume just as she was stooping over a table, resting on her elbows, reading a book. What a delightful picture she made!

Her soft young breasts hung tantalisingly in the tight cotton of the singlet. You would agree, I know, that her young hips are quite broad. Best of all, she has a charming tendency when bending like this to hollow the back of her waist downward so that the broad young cheeks of her bottom appear well separated in their tight denim. She has the easy, lewd pose of animmoraliste, however proper her upbringing. With her hips slack, one knee bent at a time, she offers each cheek of her rump alternately.

I could not tell you, Charlie, what charming volume of curious literature she was reading. Yet its effect upon her was all too soon visible: her backside began to stir in a quiet rhythm as she bent over the table reading, and her thighs smoothed softly together in their tight knickers.

"You see how it is?" Nabyla said to me quietly. "There are so many harem slave girls. There are such numerous girls here that a night of excitement in the Pasha's bed is rare - unless they are one of his great favourites. Yet that occasional exquisite ordeal of her master's tool is enough to stimulate the itch of lust in such girls. Worse still, they live in the luxury of idleness with nothing else to think about. For the master's delight, books of amorous tales are provided as their only reading. The mistress appointed to supervise them will inspect them so intimately each morning with her fingers that love's demands will plague them the rest of the day. Tania would prefer another girl to console herself with at the moment. In default of that, she will take matters into her own hands."

Her words were true to the last syllable. As we watched, Tania slipped one hand down between her tightly clad thighs and began to finger her own love-pouch.

"Tell me," I asked. "Tania's body is surely her master's absolute property by the law of the harem? Every function of it, I imagine, is his to command or forbid as he chooses?"

"Indeed," said Nabyla, gently.

"Then, if Tania masturbates without his consent, will that not be a fault to be reprimanded?"

Nabyla's dark eyes had a gleam of amusement in them as she turned her proud Arabian face to me. "That will depend, madam. There will be times when the Pasha wishes to take Tania's knickers down and give her a sound whipping. What better pretext than such misbehaviour as this? Yet at other times he will be delighted by her misconduct, either because it prepares her for his own pleasure or because he can then immediately oblige her to continue making love to herself as an amusement for his guests."

How intriguing this was, I thought! And what a new light it cast upon the amiable Pasha of Ramallah!

Tania looked about her, straightened up, and went across to the leather divan. No doubt she believed that she was quite undetected in her mischief. I think she was still very timid over the matter of being caught in such misbehaviour for, as yet, she did not even dare to take down her knickers. Instead, our young odalisque, with her crop of brown curls, lay on the divan, propped on her elbow. She turned slightly on her side away from us, crossing her legs very tightly and turning her broad young rump to our side with charming lasciviousness. Yet she had her shoulders turned so that we saw her face and the soft swell of breasts in her singlet.

I believe that Tania was looking over her shoulder because she feared that discovery might threaten on that side. At the same time, it was not possible for someone entering suddenly to see precisely what her hands were doing in front of her. For all that, there was never the least doubt in our minds what the young minx was up to!

Her thighs squeezed rhythmically together upon her busy finger. The broad young cheeks of Tania's arse pressed hard together and swelled out alternately. The blue eyes of the masturbatrix closed, fluttered open, then closed in a dream of bliss. Her luscious mouth opened softly to draw the deeper breaths which her rising excitement demanded. Her tongue ran repeatedly along her lips, moistening the dryness of love's fever.

Nabyla left me for a moment and I continued to watch Tania masturbate with the greatest interest. I vow to you, Charlie, that I had never been privileged to see another girl do this to herself. Young ladies of my acquaintance were, of course, known to practise such dark rituals - either alone or in couples - but to see this done was an experience I had never hoped for.

In a trice, Nabyla was back. She was accompanied by a rather severe-looking young woman whose name I learnt was Judi. Unlike the others, Judi was the Pasha's mistress - in the English sense - rather than his slave. She was also the mistress - in the harem sense - of some of his slave girls. Judi was no more than twenty-five, her blond hair strained back into a short plait. Her fine-boned face with its sharp features matched the description of her as Tania's mistress. She was appropriately dressed in riding breeches and shirt, carrying a short leather switch.

Tania was allowed to make love to herself for a little while until Judi at last opened a door and walked into the room. What do you think Tania did? What could she do? Drawing her hands clear of her love nest, she lay down on the divan and pretended to be asleep. As Judi went across to her, she appeared to stir from a light afternoon doze!

There was no doubt of Judi's authority, or of Tania's state of arousal. Tania's first act was to take Judi's free hand between her own, kissing its knuckles and gold rings as if these were the objects she loved most in the world. Then she held the blond woman's hand against her own face and nuzzled against it contentedly.

"Now," Judi said at last, "I fear we must satisfy the Pasha that you have been guilty of no act of wantonness, Tania!"

Tell me, Charlie, how do you suppose that was done? I wager you would never guess.

Tania lifted her hips obediently so that Judi could slip her knickers down and off. As I suspected, Tania is one of those twenty-year-olds whose hips are broad and full without being flabby. Her thighs and bottom were what I would call fair-skinned, though perhaps a little muddy in their complexion. Presently she turned, holding and kissing Judi's hand again, showing the nice thatch of brown ringlets which adorns her pubis.

"Lie on your back, Tania!" said Judi sharply. "Bend your knees up to your breasts."

What was to happen now? Judi sat on the divan and looked down at Tania's vaginal pouch so conveniently presented by her new posture. Then, from a drawer, the blond mistress took a little tin and a badger-hair shaving-brush. Can you guess, even now, what was about to take place?

The tin contained a dry, white powder, a form of soap. In order to determine Tania's guilt or innocence of the act of masturbation, the dry powder was to be brushed into the suspected place by the soft teasing brush. If it lathered, then Tania was guilty. If, after several minutes, it did not, she was innocent.

One cannot quarrel with the ingenuity of such a procedure. Yet Judi had no intention of performing the ritual herself. She went to another door and called one of those slave girls who testify to the Pasha's universality of taste.

How shall I describe Shawn, eighteen years old? She is quite tall, a graceful Caribbean beauty with a high-boned facial beauty and tight-lidded slanted eyes. Her dark hair is strained back into a tight little bun or top-knot held in place by a tortoise-shell comb. This coiffure not only enables one to enjoy the fineness of her features more easily but gives an air of charming dignity to this tawny-skinned Venus.

Shawn was also in dishabille, in a bright-yellow cotton tunic, belted at the waist, and ending at mid-thigh. She was, I later heard, much given to dressing up in various costumes and admiring her reflection in the long mirrors of the harem baignoire.

Before leaving the two girls together, Judi positioned Tania's wrists above the young woman's head, by the ring at the end of the leather divan. Then the blond mistress joined us so that she might watch the results of her preparations.

Shawn was in no hurry, it seemed. She stood before a mirror, adjusting the yellow tunic dress. The firm, coffee-skinned elegance of her long legs, bare to mid-thigh, was admirable. The tight skirt of the short, yellow dress strained and creased easily across her lithe hips and the taut statuesque cheeks of her bottom.

At last she was ready, turning to her willing victim. You will easily imagine Shawn dipping the brush in the powdered soap and applying it to Tania's nether lips. But will you guess how she did it? She knelt astride Tania, almost sitting on the girl's breasts, facing her feet. Then she went forward on elbows and knees, her face above the open spread of Tania's crotch, as she tickled the powder-laden brush into Tania's cunt. Tania moaned and sobbed gently with the delicious torment of it. Our tall, agile Caribbean beauty smiled to herself at this, teasing the tip of the brush 'round and 'round Tania's clitoris. At the same time, the tormentress reached back and pulled her own tight, yellow dress up above her waist. What a view was now presented to Tania's eyes and lips!

Under so short a tunic, Shawn's knickers were a pair of white ballet briefs made of stretched cotton web. What a contrast they made with the smooth coffee colour of her long, agile thighs. She has that natural Caribbean grace of the straight back and long trim legs, the instinctively upright carriage. Her hips are firm, though offering a slightly fuller appeal than the rest of her figure, her breasts being high and saucy. The tight, white cotton of the briefs perfectly shaped the triangle of her pubis and showed the charming little bulge of her love-pouch through their gusset. She had chosen a pair which were cut lasciviously high and tight at the seat, laying bare much of the soft, dusky-gold cheeks of her backside.

Inspecting Tania's furry pouch at very close range, Shawn tickled it pitilessly with the brush, touching and teasing, touching and teasing, until Tania's blue eyes widened and she cried out, her brown curls threshing from side to side on the divan. Shawn moved her knees back a little so that she was astride Tania's face. All the time she was manipulating the little brush with wicked skill, teasing and touching, teasing again and again.

To be masturbated in this fashion was almost more than Tania could bear without going into a delirium of screams and pleading. She kissed the in-sides of Shawn's nude thighs with an amorous, smacking passion. Then her tongue began to lick the soft, satiny inner surfaces of the thighs with long, infatuated swathes of moisture.

Shawn was smiling to herself as the brush continued its work on Tania's vagina. The result of the test was no longer in doubt for we could hear the first faint whisper of lather at Tania's own love-juice supplied the powder with ample moistening.

"Pull your pants down, Shawn," she whispered yearningly, "oh, please do, my dearest! Let me love you properly!"

I think the Caribbean beauty was perhaps more amused than flattered by the grand passion she had provoked. Yet Tania was now desperately kissing the tight, warm cotton where it cuddled the soft little bulge of Shawn's vaginal pouch. At this rate, I thought, she was soon going to taste Shawn through the pants in any case.

As it happened, the generous girl obliged her. Shawn reached back, took the waistband of her knickers and pulled them down so that they were drawn tight round the middle of her spread thighs. Now the two girls lay on their sides, head to tail, facing one another for a prolonged session of love-making.

Shawn began remorselessly working her finger in and out of Tania's love-hole, causing cries of gratitude and alarm from her soft-figured partner. It was Shawn who was the leader, quite shameless in her wanton use of the other girl. Her tongue now replaced her finger in Tania's little slit, trilling like that of an exotic bird in full song. Tania, for her part, was content to obey Shawn's instructions, kissing and tonguing according to order. Because her wrists had been placed out of harm's way by her mistress, she needed a little assistance from her partner. Shawn, ravaging Tania with her tongue, had to reach back and part her own buttocks so that Tania might more deeply explore her in that area.

Presently I saw that Tania's hips were moving in a hard, pumping kind of motion. She was about to have her "happy time," as they call it in French parlance. How she cried out, begging Shawn to love her, beat her, cherish her, enslave her - anything so long as they might spend the rest of their lives together on this divan in such a manner!

Tania's orgasm was accomplished with complete self-abandon. Shawn, to my surprise, was more controlled. There came a point when she thrust her hips out a little harder and when Tania had to use her tongue more energetically. Then with clenched teeth and a tense, quick palpitation of her brown thighs, our Caribbean beauty also came safe into the calm waters of love's haven.

Following this, they played with one another in the same posture. But there was a sense of calm now, as if they were merely a pair of schoolgirls curiously exploring one another's secret anatomies. This continued for about half an hour, until one sensed that excitement of a more adult kind was beginning to gather once more.

Judi spoke not a word. But, at this point, she returned suddenly through the door and caught the two culprits in the very act. The truth was that, though they must have heard her approach, this pair of lovers was now in a state where neither cared for the world or its reprimands.

"Undress at once!" said Judi sharply, "both of you! Tania has more than convicted herself of wanton behaviour. In your case, Shawn, you have proved yourself a most shameless accomplice!"

Judi stood there, a severe young woman with her short, blond plait, her riding breeches and blouse, the leather switch flexed in the firm grip of her hands.

"Since you are so eager for illicit passion with one another," she went on, "we will make the punishment fit the crime. On this occasion, however, your ecstasies will be tempered by the sharp sauce of chastisement!"

I vow, Charlie, I could scarcely believe my ears! In one afternoon I was to witness things which most men and women might wait a lifetime to see - and would often await in vain! There was no doubt in my mind that the scene about to be played out in that room was to be one of amorous punishment or of disciplined lasciviousness. It was that greatest of love's curiosities which you and I, in our familiar conversation, have often referred to jokingly as "Birch in the Boudoir." And yet, my sweet, often as we have talked about such things, it was not until this afternoon that I began to have some clear conception of the reality.

Alas, it grows late. I must save the remnant of my experiences for tomorrow's letter. You have no idea how the servants talk in such a place as this! Merely for the light to burn in the room of the envoy's daughter until 2 a.m. is sufficient to start all sorts of rumours. You know, my dear, that there can be no ground for them. Others might be less charitable. So I bid you a gentle and loving goodnight until tomorrow, when I will reveal the strange secret which I now share with Nabyla, Judi, Tania, and Shawn!

Your ever-loving, Lizzie.