Lucretia suspends her rod for a few instants and then suddenly wakes him up again with two or three tremendous whacks upon his sore posteriors, exclaiming, "Wake up, sir, we've had enough of that, perhaps you will now withdraw "your insinuations against me; did you not take advantage of my confusion, when I found you so exposed in the garden?" following up her question by a lively application of her rod, till the blood fairly trickles down Master Frank's thighs.
frank, again in awful pain, and ashamed to think how he has been exposed, now his erotic excitement has passed off for the moment. — "Ah! Ah! you she-devil, who could believe you could cut me up so after your loving caresses and assertions of your affection for me. Ah! Miss Coote, save me from her, have mercy ladies!" the tears of shame and agonized mortification running down his crimson face.
lucretia. — "Not yet, you impudent boy; will you withdraw your assertions about me, or I will literally skin your bottom before you get let off."
frank. — "Oh! Oh! how cruel of you Lucretia, to force me to tell a lie, how can I?" writhing under the shower of smarting strokes, and evidently beginning to experience the return of his voluptuous feelings.
lucretia. — "Your cries are delightful. I enjoy it so much more, knowing how we love each other. Will — will you withdraw your wicked assertions? You have made these ladies think me a monster of lasciviousness. Do you hear, sir?" cutting well up under the crack of his bottom, so that the tips of the birch might sting him in the tenderest and most private parts.
victim. — "Ah! Oh! Oh! My God! you'll kill me," seeming almost ready to faint with the suddenly excruciating pain.
lucretia. — "Then why do you obstinately persist in refusing the satisfaction I ask of you, and say I want to make you tell lies, you wicked fellow, I'll murder you with the birch if you don't retract your vile insinuations," cutting him terribly everywhere she fancies he can feel most.
frank, in terrible agony. — "Oh! Oh! What — what must I say — all those stories about us are quite untrue, we never did anything wrong," writhing about and hardly knowing what he says in his anxiety to get away from his torture.
lucretia, with a furious blow which almost takes his breath away. — "Hold, hold, now, sir, you go to the other extreme; I only want you to confess you took advantage of me; your brain is confused, what a strange thing that after all this whipping and wealing the blood should still fly to your head."
frank, sobbing with mortification. — "Indeed — indeed, I remember now, how I put my hand under your clothes, when you were so overcome you could not resist me. Ah! Oh! Oh! Let me off, you never need fear I shall tell the secret of my own humiliation!"
He is fairly broken down, Lucretia drops her worn-out birch as tears of sympathy rise in her large loving eyes, and she sobs, "Poor fellow, poor fellow, what made you so obstinate?"
president. — "Let him down, and make him kneel before me and beg our pardon for the indelicate scandal he has caused amongst us, as I can feel and see what painful emotions the sight has caused in every lady's breast."
He is released, and Frank, humbly kneeling, declares his sorrow for having so shamefully intruded upon our private proceedings and again promises faithfully to keep our secret, and begs with fresh tears in his eyes to be allowed to remain a member after his painful initiation.
This was most favourably received, and I soon found out that Lady Clara was at the bottom of a plot for introducing the male element into our society.
I hastily closed the sйance, and never knew how or what means they used to ease his sore bottom, but next day, by advice of Mdlle. Fosse, I intimated to them all a dissolution of the Club, as I could not possibly join in or allow my house to be used for birching orgies in connection with the opposite sex. My next and last letter on this subject will relate more nearly to myself.
Yours affectionately,
rosa belinda coote.
(To be continued.)
THE FRUITS OF PHILOSOPHY.
Said good Mrs. Besant,
To make things pleasant,
If of children you wish to be rid,
Just after coition,
Prevent all fruition,
And corpse the incipient kid.
To do this completely,
Securely and neatly,
That your conscience may suffer no twinge,
Before having connection,
Procure an injection,
Likewise an elastic syringe.
Then after the "coup,"
All the ladies need do
Is to jump out of bed on the spot,
Fill the squirt to the brim,
Pump it well up her quim,
And the kid trickles into the pot.
A little lady who was, and we believe is, a great speaker at the Quakers' meetings, was once asked by Mr. Bright in his young days, "if she did not find the spirit inspired her with thoughts of marriage?" "No," she answered, "but I frequently find my struggling with the flesh does."
THE COLUMBINE.
Written in London 12th January, 1837,
on Fraulein Theresa Schmidt, an opera dancer, as Columbine.
Night after night I've fed my eyes,
On sweet "Theresa Schmidt, Fraulein,"
And marvell'd how cold Northern skies
Could mould so fair a Columbine.
No verse, no rhyme could tell my mind,
To vent the praise my heart would breathe,
But she's an English girl I find,
And bears the vulgar name of Smith.
But whatso'er her name may be,