THE FASCINATION BEGINS
She was completely taken by surprise. She had scarcely time to gasp out an exclamation of anger. "Juliette," I cried as she struggled violently in my arms.
Juliette quickly got her wrists free and, reaching down, got her ankles from the loops. Then she ran to me as I was holding the squirming, kicking Muriel.
The latter was like an eel. She kicked, she bit, or tried to, but my arms were tight round her middle, and as she had taken off her corsets, my grip crushed her ribs and gradually winded her.
Juliette, avoiding with difficulty the kicking legs, managed to get the band of webbing round first one wrist and then the other and draw it tight. My grip had not relaxed and in a comparatively short time Madame Muriel's wrists were bound together.
She still grasped the birch and all the time was pouring out indignant and angry expostulations. There was no trace of fear, however, as yet. Pride, rage, and hate showed in every glance and tone.
When Juliette had finally and satisfactorily tied her hands, I dragged Muriel to the couch and pushed her onto it. She sat and glared at me, out of breath and exhausted.
Her tea-gown had come unfastened at the waist and fell apart. Except for her stockings and shoes, she was absolutely naked. She evidently had intended to have a perfect field day. Well, she should not be disappointed.
I turned to Juliette with a smile: "Well, what shall we do to her? How shall we begin? You know more about these things than I do."
"Spank her first; the hand will prepare her bottom nicely for the birch," said she. "Shall I hold her down for you?"
"No," I said, "I'll hold her and you can begin. Come along, Muriel dear. This is a little different from what you intended, isn't it? It will be a new experience for you, eh? Will you turn over of your own accord or shall I help you?"
She made no answer, so I went to her and took her by the wrists. She dragged her hands away and suddenly, bending down, seized one of my hands with her teeth and bit it hard. "You little devil," I shouted, "you shall pay for that," and I brought my other hand heavily down on her ear and cheek. The force of the blow knocked her head on one side and made her release my hand. With a quick twist I turned her over and held her face down on the couch, her legs hanging over the side. Juliette stood at one side of her and, dodging the kicking, plunging legs, proceeded to deliver a shower of smart smacks on the plump cheeks and thighs.
The blows fell at random, here, there, and everywhere, with no direction and without much real effect, as Muriel was dodging too much. After a minute or so Juliette stopped and looked at her palm.
"It's hurting me more than her," she laughed, "we'd better begin seriously. Put her as she put me."
I pulled Muriel further onto the couch and managed to get her belly and thighs over the ridge of cushions, and then leant heavily on her back, while Juliette with great difficulty secured one leg in the silk loop.
All this time Muriel was struggling and shouting: "I won't be tied down, I won't be whipped. Don't you dare to touch me, or I'll pay you for this afterwards."
I took no notice, but when her legs were firmly secured, I pulled the tea-gown up over her shoulders as far as I could and said, "Yes, it's a little different to what you intended, isn't it? Instead of you feasting your eyes on our naked bodies and enjoying the sight of our bottoms reddening and writhing under your blows, it's your nakedness we are going to look at, it's your bottom and thighs that are going to blush and quiver. Are you looking forward to the treat? Come, answer me."
"I'll kill you," she hissed.
"Oh, no you won't, you're going to beg my pardon, to beg both our pardons, in fact, and thank us for showing you your proper place. Now Juliette, will you begin? I'll enjoy the scene for the moment."
I kept my left hand pressed on her back and with my right I stroked the beautiful loins and bottom and thighs, which lay bare to my touch. If Juliette had made an alluring picture with her dark hair and clear white skin, her mistress easily rivalled her. She was a little the plumper of the two and fairer, and whereas Juliette's colouring was pale, Muriel's skin was flushed slightly with pink. Their two bodies made a delightful contrast.
The idea struck me of comparing them, and when Juliette came back with a birch I asked her to lie beside her mistress for a moment so that I might see both their naked bodies together. She obeyed at once, and I revelled in the lovely vision. So lovely was it that I could not resist the temptation but took out my old man and was about to make good use of the favourable position of the two girls. But when Juliette saw what I was about, she stopped me.
"That will come later; business first," and she got up and stood by the couch, raising the birch in the air.
"Now madame," she said, "just a little gentle correction for your impudent bottom. How do you like it?" as the twigs fell right across the left cheek. "You are so generous with it to others, you ought to be grateful. Is it nice? nice, eh? nice nice? ...Oh, you're sulky, are you, you won't speak, won't you, we'll see about that. Answer me at once, will you? at once-at once." The blows fell quicker and quicker, but Muriel made no sound. She lay practically motionless with her head buried in the couch. Her flesh flinched each time the blows fell across her bottom, but she made no cry or any sound.
"Still obstinate," said Juliette, "we won't allow that and must persevere." She came round to the other side and proceeded to visit the other cheek. Then she went lower and cut across the thighs, but though Muriel's contortions grew more convulsive, she still kept silent, until at last one blow of the birch curled right between her legs and a stifled cry of pain escaped her lips.
"Ah, I thought I should succeed before long," said Juliette, as she rested for a moment. "Will you begin now, sir?"
I took the birch, or what was left of it, for the twigs had broken off at every stroke.
What a change now in Muriel's bottom. No longer was the skin clear and pink and white. An angry red flush covered the centre of both cheeks, from which ran lines of red and violet which disappeared round the legs and cheeks towards the hips.
"Now Muriel," I said, "Juliette has finished for the moment. It is my turn now. I am going to give you a lesson in behaviour towards your guests. How do you like that, and that," as the swift strokes fell. "Will you answer me?" I went on, as she still remained dumb, and the blows redoubled. "There!" said Juliette, pointing with her finger between the cheeks of Muriel's bottom and the legs stretched wide open. "That will make her speak."
I followed her advice and gave three crashing blows that cut and curled along the inside of her thighs and reached the hidden lips of her pussy.
It evidently proved effective. Shriek after shriek came from Muriel as she twisted and writhed.
"Not there, let me go," she cried. "Oh, oh, oh. No, don't, don't, no more," as the blows fell again.
Hysterical sobs shook her whole body. I stopped whipping her and said, "Ah, you've found your voice have you? Well, are you going to behave better in the future?"
"Oh, yes, yes!"
"And do you like being whipped," I went on, "and is it as nice as whipping others? Do you like showing your nakedness and your bottom to Juliette and me?"
She only sobbed in reply and I thought she was punished enough and was going to release her when Juliette noticed what I was doing and stopped me.
"No, no, not yet, she hasn't had nearly enough. Don't you remember, she said I was to be crucified? Well, I know what that means, I've had some." She went to the other case and brought out the two riding whips and a couple of canes and gave me one of each. I dropped the stump of the birch and waited.
"Now madame," she said, "you've shown me more than once what you call crucifixion. I hope I shan't forget your teaching. Let me see. This comes first, doesn't it?" and she brought the cane heavily across both cheeks of the quivering bottom.
A shriek of pain from Muriel. She raised herself up and twisted herself to one side to avoid the blow. I had left her when I had finished birching her, so that she could move freely, except that her hands and feet were tied.
"By Jove, that seems to touch the spot," I said, "how do you like that, dear? It seems a little more effective than the birch. What does it feel like? Come, tell me."
Muriel only groaned and writhed convulsively.
"Come, answer me, or can't you quite tell from one cut? Does that make it clearer to you?" and I brought the cane heavily down about half an inch below the livid weal left from Juliette's blow.
A positive howl of anguish came from Muriel. She raised her body and twisted about as if she was on fire.
"You mustn't move about like that. Not only are you making a most indecent exhibition of yourself but you are doing no good. Come, what is it like? Is it nicer than the birch or do you miss the tingling twigs?"
Still no reply, but sobs and moans. I grew impatient. "Will you answer?" and I made the cane whistle through the air, but didn't touch her with it. Her bottom shuddered with apprehension.
"Oh, it's awful," she gasped, "it's like a bar of hot iron burning into my flesh."
"Ah, well, you're going to have quite a lot of those hot bars. In fact, your bottom will be quite a gridiron before we've finished with it."
"Yes, but she mustn't plunge about like that," said Juliette, "or we shan't be able to get a pretty pattern on her bottom and thighs. She likes pretty patterns, I know, for she has often shown me the designs she has traced on me after she has finished. There's nothing like neatness and finish for any work. If a thing is worth doing, it's worth doing well. That's what you often say, isn't it, madame?" she sneered. Muriel didn't answer.
"Ah, she's lost her voice; we'll find it for her in a minute. Will you help me, sir?" She seized her mistress' wrists: "There should be a cord here. As you say, sir, there is no use in countenancing any more indecent exposure than is necessary."
She found a cord at the head of the couch similar to those that fastened Muriel's ankles. She fastened it to the webbing round the wrists and drew it tight. Then she took up the cane again and went back to her former position.
"Will you, please, stand opposite me, sir, and take your time from me? Don't hurry and be careful how you place your blows. There should be room for a dozen a side, I should think."
She measured carefully with her fingers the distance from the dimples just above the cheeks, where the plumpness began to swell, down along the thighs to just above the knees.
"Yes, she can take twelve easily, I fancy. Will you try to keep an accurate distance between each cut just as you have already?"
She pointed to the two livid blue marks, which contrasted with the untouched skin between them.
"Now," she said, raising the cane and bringing it down just below the dimples at the top of the cheeks. An angry red line appeared and another shriek from Muriel.
I raised my cane. "Just there," said Juliette, pointing just below.
Crash fell the cane. Another yell.
"What, more hot iron?" sneered Juliette.
Crash fell her cane just below my mark and crash my cane followed hers.
"Don't hurry," she insisted. "We've only got a dozen each. It will do none of us any good; she won't be able to appreciate each separate cut and we shall be finished before we have begun. It would be a pity for her not to realise the care we are taking to do the thing properly."
"Shall we count the strokes out loud, then we shall be more deliberate," I said.
"Let her count them to us," said Juliette. "Let me see, that makes four. Four, do you hear, madame? Now please call the others."
I took hold of her hair and raised her head. "Do as you're told. That was four. Count the rest. What comes next?" I pulled her head right back. "Five," she gasped in terror.
"Five it is," said Juliette, and again the cane fell.
"Oh, mercy, mercy," moaned the victim.
"Go on counting."
I let go of her hair and, carefully directing the cane, brought it down just below Juliette's last mark. We had just reached the summit of the rounded hillocks and the cane fell full on the firm flesh.
"Ah, God," said Muriel, "I shall die, you are killing me." "I'm not dead," said Juliette, "and I've had more than this from you, and I haven't got so much fat to protect me as this," she added bitterly, rubbing her hand down over the wounded flesh. Muriel shrank under the touch. "Well, we are waiting, madame. Hadn't you better continue? The sooner it's over, the better for you."
"Seven!" gasped Muriel, and the seventh blow fell.
"Eight." I followed. "Nine. Oh, finish, finish, for pity's sake."
"Now, you're too impatient! Is it so nice that you can't wait? Well, there you are then, as you seem to want it."
"Ten, eleven, twelve." The blows had now reached the thighs, softer and more tender than the plumper cheeks. The cane gave quite a different sound and a still more piercing shriek came from Muriel. She tried with all her strength to drag her feet from the loops and bring her thighs together. But the cords held firm and she could only contract the muscles of her thighs, which rose and fell again on the ridge of pillows. Her hands clutched convulsively at the webbing and relaxed. Her head rolled from side to side. Her whole body heaved.
"Perhaps we may as well finish by ourselves," said Juliette, who seemed to be growing excited. I must admit that I myself felt a growing impatience. I wanted to strike and strike again at this helpless flesh, and my next three blows were rather at random.
"Steady," said Juliette, "don't spoil the gridiron."
"That's better, twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty-four."
"There, look, it could not be better, one could write music on those clefs."
She stood resting on the cane, panting slightly. Muriel had stopped shrieking; only moans and hoarse choking sobs came, shaking her whole body.
I looked at Juliette. To tell the truth I was rather frightened lest we had done too much. I must have shown this in my face, for she laughed. "Oh, don't be afraid, we haven't half-finished yet, she can bear lots more. But we must shift her for the finale. Isn't it a lovely picture, though?" and she traced the straight lines with her fingers in a fierce joy.
"Ah, madame, do you remember the first time you crucified me? I haven't forgotten. How you laughed! It's my turn to laugh now, isn't it? You didn't think then that Juliette was to have the chance to write her name on your naked bottom, or you mightn't have been so keen on showing me how it was done."
She went to the loops which fastened the legs and took them off. "Now turn her over on her back," she said to me. "Perhaps she would rather display her breasts and belly than her hinder parts." I went to Muriel and pulled her towards me. She made no resistance. Her eyes were closed, her cheeks were wet with her tears, her whole body shook with gasping sobs. I rolled her over on her back and Juliette quickly refastened the legs. When she felt her bottom resting on the cushions, she started and screamed with the pain and tried to turn over again, but she was too late. Juliette had secured the ankles.
"Now, madame, for the real crucifixion." She pulled open the tea-gown at the neck and displayed all her mistress' charms.
There she lay outstretched for sacrifice, her breasts standing out firm, her belly raised by the ridge of cushions on which her bottom rested, while her legs, stretched as wide apart as possible, showed all her sex.
Scarcely a mark of her chastisement showed from our present point of view, only between her legs a few marks of the birch showed and the lips of her pussy seemed swollen slightly and flushed.
She presented altogether a maddening spectacle to my eyes, which wandered over all her body. Her position was ideal for any form of attack and I couldn't resist the temptation of putting my hand between her legs and investigating the gaping lips of her pussy.
Juliette watched me jealously. "Do you want to be in her? I should wait till to-morrow, but you can go on doing that if you like while I finish the crucifixion. It won't interfere with me. In fact, it will make it all the more amusing. She will have two different kinds of tickling at the same time."
My fingers began to probe the soft clinging lips of Muriel's pussy, while Juliette flicked the nipples of her breasts with the lash of one of the riding whips. She stood at the head of the couch and Muriel's white body lay stretched between us. Under the gentle persuasion of my fingers Muriel's sobs and groans gradually changed into sighs. Her thighs contracted, little twitchings and spasms ran over her smooth belly, evidently the pain of the whipping had not taken all sexual feeling from her.
"Tell me when she comes," said Juliette eagerly, as the little lash flicked here and there with a sort of wicked caress. "Now," I said as I felt the lips of Muriel's pussy contract, and her bottom heaved with convulsive thrusts and her thighs contracted and imprisoned my hand.
I was not prepared for what followed. Without a word of warning, Juliette lifted the whip above her head and brought it heavily down on her mistress' body, straight up and down between her breasts, causing a long straight weal starting from the valley between her breasts, crossing the navel, and ending just above the dainty brown curls of the bush where the lash cut the skin and a few beads of blood appeared. Muriel's sighs and moans of passion changed to a shriek of agony, but Juliette paid no heed. She stepped to one side and again brought the whip down on the unprotected body, but this time across from side to side, just across the breasts. Another weal appeared, making a perfect cross. I felt Muriel's body grow suddenly limp. I looked at her face; it was deadly pale. She had fainted.
How beautiful she looked there, with her arms tied above her head, her eyes closed, her mouth partly open, her head drooping, the purple lines of the cross showing up on her deathly pale skin, her firm plump legs stretched this way and that, revealing the beautiful mossy curls and soft lips of her pussy, still dewy with the involuntary sacrifice to love. I looked to Juliette to see what she would do and went to unfasten the loops.
"Oh, she'll come round all right," said Juliette, "you needn't worry. I've had lots worse from her than that. Don't untie her yet."
"I won't have her whipped any more," I said. "We've given her quite enough. Get some water and bring her round." Juliette went to the bedroom, and I chafed Muriel's hands and cheeks. Her eyes slowly opened and she looked at me. I was prepared for anger and resentment, but instead of that I only saw submission and appeal.
"Cruel, cruel," she murmured. "How could you be so cruel?"
I bent down and kissed her lips. "I'm sorry," I answered, "but you had to learn who was master. Have you learnt it?" Her eyes said yes and I kissed her again.
Juliette came back with smelling-salts and cold water. Her mistress' eyes glowered as she saw her approach. I saw the look. "Now there must be no resentment against Juliette," I said. "Let her help you to bed and take care of you, and I will call and see you to-morrow."
"No, don't let her come near me," said Muriel, "I won't have her. You take care of me," turning to me, "I want you." "You will do as you are told," I said firmly, for I realised it was the only way to keep my new found sovereignty. "Now Juliette, kiss your mistress and be friends."
"Let me help you, madame," said Juliette, "you know I have always let you help me when you have whipped me."
"We will both see to you," I said. "Juliette, get the bath ready."
I undid Muriel's bonds and gently raised her up. She could not bear to sit on her poor bottom, but hung round my neck and across my knees, the picture of abject submission.
"Oh, my lover, my king," she murmured, "you have won me, you have mastered me. I am your slave, I love, I worship you."
Juliette came back to say that the bath was ready, and between us we carried Muriel into the bathroom, which led off her bedroom, and laid her in it.
Juliette took the soap bowl and, making a lovely lather, prepared to cover her mistress with it. Some of the soap splashed on me.
"You'll get your clothes spoiled," she said, "you had better take them off."
I did as she suggested and in a minute or two was as naked as they were. We soaped Muriel all over and then Juliette produced a flask of some sweet-scented oil which she gently applied to the poor scorched bottom and thighs. She dried her tenderly and laid her on the cool sheet. Muriel gave a little sigh of fatigue and closed her eyes. I took a towel and began to dry myself. Juliette was putting things straight, going here and there quickly as she replaced bottles and soap and brushes.
It might have been Ancient Rome-Rome of the Empire. This marble bathroom, myself a young patrician, and Juliette a slave-girl attending on my wants.
I watched her slim form everywhere, my desire growing hotter and hotter, until at last she stooped down with her back to me to pick something up from the floor and in so doing showed me all her lovely bottom and the darling little pussy pouting out between her thighs.
I did not say a word, but silently came behind her, caught her round the hips and thrust John Thomas between the lips which were ready and eager to receive him.
She gave a little start of surprise, then a pleased laugh. "You silly impetuous boy. Why not wait until we can be comfortable?"
But I was far too eager to wait and began working in and out with vigour.
"Cecil," called Muriel, "where are you? I want you."
"I can't come for the moment, I'm busy. I'll be with you in a minute."
"But I want you now. What are you doing?"
Juliette chuckled. I made no answer, but went on working. I was just finished when I saw Muriel's reflection in the glass standing on the floor.
"I thought as much," she said.
I had finished my work and turned to face her. Juliette also turned coolly and faced her mistress.
I could not help comparing this interruption with the other, earlier one that afternoon.
"What are you doing here?" I said. "Go back to bed. Do you want another whipping?"
"I wanted you," she said humbly.
"Well, I was busy, as you see. I'll come to you in a minute, in fact, we will both come."
She darted a look of hatred at Juliette.
"None of that," I said, "I won't have it. You must be friends with Juliette. Go and kiss her at once."
"Go and kiss her at once, or shall I fetch the whip?"
"Oh, no, no," she shuddered and went slowly towards Juliette.
An idea struck me. "Kneel down," I said, "and kiss those other lips of hers. You said you wanted me. Well, you'll find some of me there. Kiss her and thank her for whipping you." It was lovely to see the conflict of pride and fear in Muriel. She gave Juliette and me a quick glance and then, sobbing, knelt down before her maid's naked body and pressed her lips on the thick curls.
"Say what I told you to say," I urged.
"Thank you, Juliette," she sobbed stammeringly, "for whipping me."
It was too much for her and she bowed her head and wept.
Juliette's pity was moved. "Oh, Muriel," she said, as she gently raised her mistress, "don't be angry with me, forgive me if I hurt you."
She raised her to her feet and the two women fell into each other's arms.
"That's right," I said, "now we will go to bed."