I was born in a workhouse, in the west of English, my poor mother giving up her last breath as she gave me life. An orphan from my birth, who never even knew who her father was.
Like the celebrated Cora Pearl, who lately married a rich nobleman in Paris, after having been the bright particular star amongst les files du monde of that great city; I also had a very common name, hers, I believe, was Emma Crutch, mine nothing more than Phoebe Smith, the same as my poor mother's.
Well, to go on with my story. I believe that as I got out of babyhood I grew so intelligent and pretty that I became a general pet amongst all the officials of the workhouse master, matron,
doctor, etc., everyone seemed to take an interest in little Phoebe, and thanks to natural quickness, my education was far better than usually the result of such surroundings, but you may guess I had many very curious adventures even in my earliest days of girlhood.
The matron often sent me messages to the rector and others in our village, as she knew it gave me pleasure to run out now and then.
Our rector was a nice old gentleman, nearly eighty years of age, and he would often ask me into his study, under pretence of examining me, to see how my education was going on. The old man really seemed to feel his feet a little during these visits, and generally gave me sixpence for a nice kiss before he would let me go. Of course I was always glad to go to the rectory, especially as Mrs. Wilson, the housekeeper, often gave me sweets and cakes in addition to the parson's sixpences.
At last I was upon quite familiar terms with him, and used frequently to sit on his knee and kiss him, as he called me a dear little pet, and very frequently his hands would go up under my clothes, till they felt my thighs and even something else, as he explained to me what a pity and shame it was that the guardians did not allow drawers, "You would look so pretty little Phoebe, properly dressed," he would say and go on all the while taking liberties which at the time my innocence did not see any harm in.
I was nearly ten years old, when one day, our matron told me that Mrs. Wilson at the rectory wanted me to help her for the afternoon, if I could be spared, "so you had better make yourself nice, and go at once, my dear," and I did not want telling twice.
The old parson was delighted to see me.
"Mrs. Wilson sent for my pet to spend the afternoon with me, as she is going out, and I have such a surprise for you, Phoebe," he said.
The housekeeper was soon gone, and I now believe it was a regular planned thing between them, as when he died he left her a house and two pounds a week for life.
Leaving my straw hat and cloak in Mrs. Wilson's room, he led me to the study, where he took me on his knee and almost stifled me with kisses.
"What do you think I have got for my pet?" he asked.
"Is that all you think of, Phoebe? Wouldn't you like to see yourself in fine clothes, eh?"
I jumped off his knee in delight, as I clapped my hands, exclaiming, "You old dear, let me see them, I don't believe you have got them!"
"Open that parcel there, and I must help you put them on," he said, pointing to a large brown paper package on a chair in one corner.
The end of it was there was a complete outfit, little low necked silk dresses, stays, petticoats, drawers, chemise, etc., trimmed with lace, and even silk stockings, and such beautiful little slippers with high heels and buckles of silver.
How his hands trembled as he helped me first to strip, and then to put on all this finery which quite fired my young imagination, and made me think of the possibility of yet being a real lady, as I knew I was beautiful. Even when quite naked it banished all ideas of anything wrong, I only thought the old parson was fond of his pet, and wanted to please me.
His hands wandered over every part of me, before the dressing was commenced, then when I stood before him, only dressed as far as my stays, petticoats, and drawers, he took no end of time turning me round and examining if everything fitted properly.
Then he began to tell me what a naughty boy he was, that I ought to play at being schoolmistress, and whip him well.
The fun of the thing took possession of me at once, and as he had often shown me a birch rod, and said he would use it some day if ever he found me a naughty girl, I knew the drawer where I could lay my hand upon it.
"So I will, you bad boy, I know where Tickle Toby is kept," I said, getting the rod out.
He took it from my hand, and said, "Now, Miss Phoebe, don't spare my bottom. I have been so naughty, and if you do it nicely you shall soon come to live with us, and be my schoolmistress very often."
Nothing would do but I must take his breeches down and birch him well, which at last I did, and he was so impudent, and tried all he could to irritate me by calling me "a cruel little wretch, an ugly thing, etc.," that I paid him out finely.
The scene always amuses and tickles my fancy even after all these years, and I do not know to what lengths we might have gone after a while, had not the poor old rector died very soon after, and so dispelled all my dreams of finery, etc., for a time.
One of my best qualities has always been secrecy as to what I did, so no one, unless it was Mrs. Wilson, even guessed at my game with the rector, poor old fellow.
The master of the workhouse was in the habit of inflicting personal chastisement on any of the boy or girl inmates who gave cause for correction, this I had long known and now felt quite a curiosity to see how he managed it, especially with the big girls and boys.
This could only be accomplished by hiding myself in a small ante-chamber which led into Mr. Watson's business room; there was a halfglass door with a curtain, which I could easily
draw on one side and peep. The further side of the master's room had a staircase leading to a work-room, so that each culprit entered at one door and was sent away to work by the other.
Mondays the girls were whipped, and Wednesdays he birched the troublesome lads or boys.
I suppose it was only natural that I should most wish to see a boy stripped, so the first Wednesday I could manage it I shut myself in an empty cupboard in the ante-room about the usual whipping time, and soon heard Mr. W and the matron, Mrs. Jones, bring a boy for punishment. The door was locked on the inside, and I crept from the closet, and pulling one corner of the blind aside, could see everything, and quite safe from being seen myself, unless they especially looked towards the door, even then I felt sure I could escape without being caught With what stillness I kept at my post! fearing that the least noise might attract the attention of either of them, but I had not much reason to fear, for they were both of them so much taken up with the business in hand, that they had no notion of thinking about espionage. Yet I trembled from head to foot, with an indescribable apprehension, not so much of fear as that I might see something almost too bad to look at, as I knew the master was such a strict man in carrying out his punishments. I could see everything, and a corner being broken out of one of the glass panes in the door, I could hear equally well. The culprit was a fine lad of about sixteen, and they set about tying his hands above his head to a clothes hook, high up the wall one side of the room, so I had an excellent view of him en profile.
"I guess you'll remember this for some time, or my name's not Watson!" said the master, almost grinding his teeth, he appeared in such a rage.
"Pray be cool, sir," said the matron, "don't let your temper carry you away, no doubt the boy's been very insulting to both of us, and well deserves what you will give him, only think of his calling you an old b-r, and me a bitch — indeed, when I'm so kind to every one in the house!"
Although she talked to him about being cool, she looked very Rushed herself, as she helped to pull down the lad's breeches, thus exposing to my view all the male paraphernalia of manhood, slightly adorned with a fringe of soft dark hair, evidently only recently just beginning to grow.
"Now he's ready for the birch," she said, with a chuckle, as she finished pinning up the tail of his shirt, and pulled the breeches quite down to the culprit's knees.
"Yes, I think it's my turn now, Simpson," said Mr. Watson, who had taken a heavy bunch of birch from a cupboard, "you will soon be sorry for your laziness and impudence, I feel quite kindly towards him now, Mrs. Jones, it's really wonderful how my feelings are soothed as soon as I take the swishtail in hand."
His face was quite changed from the angry look it had a minute or two before, as he took up his position behind the culprit, who had been strictly mute so far.
No more time was lost, Mr. Watson's soul was very evidently in his work — swish — crash — swish — crash — swish — crash — that is what the blows sounded like to me, as he gave a sweeping flourish through the air at each stroke. The third blow elicited a subdued wincing cry from the lad.
"That's it, why don't you give it mouth, Simpson, as you did when you abused me and Mrs.
Jones?" he exclaimed. "Does it cut you a little, my boy? Will you abuse us again, eh?'
This last was followed by a tremendous crasher, which drew little drops of blood from the wealed flesh, then blow followed blow, soon making the drops into little rills which fairly trickled over his buttocks and down his thighs, whilst poor Simpson's cries were awful to hear, mixed as they were with the swishing and crashing of the rod. How the poor fellow did beg for mercy, but all to no avail, the master was relentless, and cut away as if it was nothing much, jeering and lecturing the boy all the while.
Now my eyes fairly started, for there was young Simpson's affair sticking out rampant and redheaded in front of him, in fact I seemed to fancy that the boy purposely rubbed himself against the wall as every cut of the birch drove him forward, his cries ceased, and I could not make it out, but just then Mrs. Jones coming behind the master, put her arms round to his front, and unbuttoning Mr. Watson's breeches, exposed to my full view an enormous affair, nine or ten inches long, which she played with in her hands, passing them rapidly up and down the long white shaft, uncovering at every motion the ruby head of what looked quite a monster to me then, all the while agitating and rubbing her belly against his back as she did so.
It only lasted for about a couple of minutes, then I saw quite a jet of thick whitish stuff spurt from him right on to the boy's raw bottom, who evidently was unconscious of what was going on behind him, After this she buttoned him up again, and then Simpson was let down and cautioned as to his future conduct, and what he would get next time, then ordered to be 08 to his work, and sent away through the further door, which I have mentioned.
Of course I thought it was all over, and should have slipped away from my point of observation, had not Mr. Watson seized Mrs. Jones round the waist and borne her to a couch, kissing her, and putting his hands under her clothes till I got a glimpse of a splendid naked thigh.
"Was it nice, Dick? Did I give you pleasure, dear?" I heard her murmur.
"Heavenly, delightful, my love! And now it's my turn to repay you, open your lovely thighs and let me see what you know I love to kiss so!" he replied, pulling her willing legs apart, and regularly burying his face in what I then thought was a very dirty place.
She closed her eyes, and lay back almost as if in a faint, but one hand was pressing his head to keep him as it were to his work, whilst the other with clenched fist hung down by her side.
"Ah — r — r — re, Oh, oh. Lovely — delightful. Go on you darling. There — there — just on the little spot. Ah — r — r — re, I'm going to come. Oh — oh," I could hear her say in gasping accents, and then saw her stiffen herself out in a listless state.
He kissed or sucked on eagerly for a moment or two, then jumping up, knelt on the bench between her legs, his great thing sticking out in front of his belly from a profusion of dark hair, which adorned that part of his person. He opened Mrs. Jones' thighs till I could quite see her love gap with pouting vermillion lips glistening with moisture, then to my astonishment he directed the head of his big engine, and opening those lips with one hand actually shoved the whole length of the tremendous thing up into her belly, till it was buried out of sight.
This seemed to wake up the matron, for suddenly throwing her arms round Mr. Watson, she heaved up her bottom to meet his thrusts, which he for his part was quite ready to respond to, kissing her face and lips ardently all the while, till after a few minutes both of them seemed as it were, to melt away, and lay listless in each other's arms.
Now was my time to slip away, which I did, but what an impression that scene had upon me, it thrilled my whole soul, and circulated a fire through every vein of my body, which increased so violently as almost to prevent respiration.
I was now only too well disposed, young as I still was to enter into any rude game that might offer with my own or the opposite sex.
I had a little bed-fellow, Sarah Marsh, about my own age, her I admitted to my confidence, and we resolved the very first chance to have a game ourselves with one of the boys.
It so happened that in a day of two was the annual treat, and we all went to the park attached to the hall to spend the day.
The village squire was a liberal man, the grown-up paupers, both old and young, were regaled to their hearts content, whilst the children ran about at pleasure in the grounds or a large wooded dell in the dark. Sarah and myself selected a pretty boy of about twelve for our sweetheart, and told Johnny Stones (that was his name), that we had something so nice to let him into.
Soon finding ourselves in a place quite free from observation, we told him the story about Mr. Watson and Mrs. Jones, and asked him to try and do the same for us; he was seated on the grass eating a cake so we soon had his little pintle out, it stood almost directly, and he tried to get into first one and then the other of us, but it hurt so much we had to give it up, and contented ourselves by sucking and kissing each other's affairs, which we thought very nice.
' Suddenly, "Haw, haw — ha, ha — here's a go," startled us from our game.
"Don't be frightened dears," said a kind voice. 'I'll give you a shilling each to let me play with you."
It was Squire Benson himself, and the sight of the bright silver soon made us at our ease, and we promised never to tell a word.
He made us unbutton and get out his affair, but what a contrast to the workhouse master's grand instrument, Mr. Benson's was a little thing only a trifle 6ve inches in length, but he was delighted to have us handle and kiss it, then laughing when we told him all about Mr. Watson and the matron, and how we had failed in our endeavours to get Johnny's thing into us, he told us he could tell a much better way which would do no harm, as the front way made babies; then he made me kneel all fours on the grass, and took Johnny's pintle into his mouth, wetting it first with his saliva before he made him shove at my bottom-hole, it soon slipped in, and my boy kneeling behind me with his arms round my belly, worked away in the vent-hole, and gave me exquisite pleasure; meanwhile the Squire telling my partner not to mind a slight pinch, soon planted his own affair in Johnny's bum, whilst he made Sarah tickle and play with him, and put her finger up his own bottom.
We kept at this game for a long time, till it was beginning to get almost dusk, I did not feel anything myself, except an exquisite titillation of the anus, but Johnny told me he felt the Squire quite plainly as he twice emitted into him, and that it was lovely and warm.
Our sweetheart was sent to a situation soon after this, and Sarah and myself remaining constant friends we kept our secret to ourselves, and varied our amusement as much as possible, using Angers or tongues as the fancy took us, still we were very careful, for fear of being found out, and did not run into any very great excesses.
Soon after I was twelve years old they put me out to be nursemaid in the family of Farmer Royston. He was the grandest man of the village after the squire and the rector, having a large farm and a 6ne water mill as well.
Mr. Royston was a widower, who had recently lost his wife, who left him with a rather large family of all ages, from sixteen to two years old, the household being now presided over by a Miss Mabel Wilberforce, in the double capacity of housekeeper and governess.
Master Charlie, the eldest, went to school, and only came home for the holidays, as also did the Misses Gertrude and Lily, who were fourteen and thirteen respectively, besides these there were Ave younger ones with whom I had more specially to do under the supervision of Miss Wilberforce; the farmer was a jolly fine man, not yet forty I should say, and had such a way of talking to or looking at the girls, that anyone could not be slow to see, that he had a considerable amount of human nature about him.
I ' slept in the nursery with the children, Mr.
Royston and the housekeeper occupying two rooms on the same floor, whilst three maidservants slept in an attic above, where there was also a couple of small rooms, only used
during the holidays for the accommodation of Master Charlie and his two elder sisters.
Amongst my other duties I had to wait at table, and it did not take me long to 6nd out that a very tender tie of some sort existed between the farmer and his housekeeper, for he always called her "my dear," and treated her with every possible mark of deference, and in fact she ruled him, as well as everything else in the house.
Before I had been a week in the house I came upon them accidently one day in the garden, they were quite unaware of being observed, he was kissing her tenderly, and I heard him say,
"Then, dear Mabel, you promise to make me happy to-night?" her face was averted and looking down, but I could hear a soft "yes" in reply.
Not doubting but a real love scene would be enacted between them that night, I slipt away, resolving in my mind how it might be possible to be a spectatress of their transports, as I had of the amours of Mr. Watson and the matron of the workhouse.
Running up to the nursery I examined every part to see if there was any prospect of getting a sight into Miss Mabel's room, which was next to it, in one corner there was a clothes closet, which gave me a presentiment of some sort of access to the next apartment, and imagine my pleasure when I found that the back of it was evidently a door of communication with the key to the other side, so I ran round into her room and discovered a similar closet, not locked, so that I could enter and unlock the door, which I found opened easily and noiselessly for my purpose. As there was no handle on my side I took the key, so as to be able to open it when I pleased.
Her bed was in a small alcove, opposite to this closet, and the outer door of the closet I found had a small round hole, where a knot had fallen out of the wood, forming a splendid peephole for observation on everything that might be done by her or her lover.
Night came, and I was on the tip-toe of expectation. Retiring to rest with the children, I kept awake till I heard Miss Wilberforce enter her room, then getting out of bed put on my stockings and crept to the place of observation.
She had loosened her hair, which fell in long wavy golden masses all over her shoulders, as she sat in a low chair looking at a small book.
She had a lovely pale Grecian type of face, which Hushed with evident blushes every now and then, as she turned over the pages.
Presently I saw it drop from her hands, as she nervously raised her clothes, and seemed to me to be titillating her most private charms, as I heard her say with a sigh, "What a time he is coming. Why did he give me such a book?"
Just then I observed Mr. Royston quietly enter the room behind her, so that he was almost touching her back before she was aware of it.
He had nothing but his shirt on.
"Mabel, love, I'm in such a state, and you, darling, are not even undressed yet!" he said in a low voice.
She turned with a start.
"Oh, Mr. Royston, how you startle me. Oh, for shame, sir, to expose yourself so!" as he raised his shirt, and let her see his Cupid's battering ram in a glorious state of erection. It was a tremendous affair, quite ten inches long, as thick as my wrist, and tipped with a fierylooking purple head, which I can only describe as being mushroom shaped, in fact I have never seen such an engine of love ever since, it was perfectly unique in its style as far as my varied experience goes.
"What a monster, and can such an awful looking thing as that give me pleasure, and can I make you happy by submitting to its ravages in my tenderest parts? Mr. Royston, you know I told you that I had been seduced by my cousin two years ago, who failed in his promise to marry me, after I was so foolish as to surrender my virtue. His was only an ordinary sized shaft of love, and gave me intense pleasure, the recol80 THE PEARL lections of which only made me too easily listen to your tender proposals, and, besides, I admit that your book has had a most demoralising effect on me, in fact I was quite ardently longing for you to come and ease the warmth of a certain little spot, but it's all gone now, the sight of such a tremendous thing quite frightens away all thoughts of love!"
"Nonsense, Mabel darling," he replied, falling on his knees in front of her, and taking her hand in his, printing hot impassioned kisses for a moment or two, then went on, "Why so afraid, you know the joys of love, my size will only enable me to give you greater pleasure, the fuller your little purse is gorged by my big shaft the greater extasy for my love, no girl was ever mortally or even seriously wounded in that dear spot, which even now I know must be palpitating and fluttering with unsatisfied expectations of bliss. Besides, my love, you shall find me so gentle and careful not to hurt you in any way, we will use a little cold cream to facilitate affairs, and after one insertion all will be joy and love unspeakable. Come, darling, let me assist to undress my pet!"
She was helpless in his hands, I could see she feared her fate, and yet was drawn towards it by some irristable fascination.
Presently he had her as naked as the day she was born. Then throwing off his own shirt, he took her in his brawny arms and carried her to the bed.
What a contrast between them; his almost Herculean frame, the muscles of his legs and arms, and back standing out in fine relief, a veritable study for a sculptor. He was a dark handsome man, close shaved, with fine black bushy whiskers, his bosom ornamented in the centre and round the paps with quite a profusion of hair so strongly indicative of manly vigour, whilst his mushroom-headed stag projected from a perfect profusion of black curls at the bottom of his belly. His inamorata, a pretty blonde with golden hair, blue eyes, with a rather light graceful figure, just plump enough to make a pretty tournure, small round firm bosoms, with delicious little strawberry nipples, which looked so impudently inviting as almost to distract the attention from the charms of her Mons Veneris, covered as it was with soft downy light hair, which hardly shaded an almost imperceptible crack, just visible at the bottom of her belly.
She still had on her slippers, silk stockings, and pretty garters, which added greatly to her generally ravishing appearance. I hate naked feet, they are so much prettier when properly dressed, and I fancy the majority of my readers are of the same opinion.
Instead of placing her on the middle of the bed, he let her down on the edge, so that if she had sat up her feet would just have touched the floor, then inclining her body backwards he gently opened that pretty pair of legs till I could plainly see the cherry lips of a lovely tight looking love grot, which he speedily began to kiss, as if he would eat it.
How she squirmed and twisted under that lascivious tongueing, till I could hear her sigh out? "You darling, what heavenly pleasure you give me. Oh — oh — oh!! I can't help it, you make me come, you dear man. Now try your affair, love, and be gentle, I do want you so, you've made me feel so, so naughty, you dear fellow!"
He was up from his knees in a moment, and taking some pomatum from a pot on the toilet table, lubricated that mushroom-headed affair, till it glistened in the candle-light, then quickly presenting it to the dear spot he had been so amorously kissing a moment or two before, and opening those luscious looking lips as well as he could with his fingers, I was tremendously astonished to see him soon get it all into her, although certainly to judge by the expression of her face it was not quite a painless operation.
She threw her legs over his buttocks and clasped him amorously with her arms, as he laid over her body and joined his lips to hers in long sucking kisses, making (as I now imagine)
that tremendous affair of his throb inside of her tight-fitting sheath, till she was almost beside herself with lust, and heaved up her bottom as a challenge to him to start on his ride.
His first thrust made her scream with pain, and beg him to be more gentle, but after going at quarter speed for a few strokes, he gradually put on the steam, till both seemed perfectly furious, as he thrust and she heaved up to meet every plunge of that awful weapon, just as if it was nothing out of the common. I could hear the concussion at every stroke as his piston rod was sheathed to the hilt, and the bag of treasures below banged against her beautiful rump. Their kisses and sighs, or exclamations of delight mingled with the other sounds, and the creaking of the bed, all put together so moved the blood in my veins that lifting my night-dress, my hands were soon busy rubbing the electrical spot till we all seemed to melt away in an extasy of bliss at the same moment.
It was too much for me, I fairly fainted, and falling down in the closet, aroused them from their delicious after lethargy. Mr. Royston must have run away, but Miss Wilberforce dragged me from the closet, and when I came to a little I found myself lying on her bed, she had assumed her chemise de nuit, and was holding a smelling bottle to my nose.
You may be sure I was awfully frightened, but she soon reassured me by promise of forgiveness, so that I told her all.
I shall never forget that woman, her blood was on fire; she told me I had spoilt her amusement for the rest of the night, and must make up for it by playing with her.
This was perfectly in accordance with my own excited feelings, and I threw myself into her arms at once, how she kissed me all over, then stretching her body over me, with her head towards my feet, buried her face between my thighs, and sucked me so deliciously, that I could not help doing the same to her, making her fairly emit her love juice into my mouth over and over again, whilst she for her part sucked every atom of honey that was to be extracted from my little virgin flower.
What a night that was, but at last tired out by the excess of our lubricity, we sank into a refreshing sleep, and only awoke long after daylight, by the children in the nursery calling out for Phoebe.
"Run back and make some excuse, my dear," exclaimed Miss Wilberforce, almost pushing me off the bed, "but mind not a word to any one, and Mr. Royston shall come here this evening to hear your explanation, but don't be frightened, I won't let him hurt you."
In the course of the day Miss Mabel whispered to me that Mr. Royston had determined to give me a whipping for my spying, but it should not be too severe? and that she was going to give the other servants and children something to make them sleep well, in case of any noise.
What a trepidation the announcement put me into, the very idea of being punished by a great strong man like the farmer seemed awful. He must have a heavy hand I thought.
I dreaded the night, which seemed to come only too soon, I couldn't look at Mr. Royston, or meet his eye in any way, and was conscious of being continually on the blush as I waited at table.
Miss Wilberforce ordered me to come to her room in my nightdress, as soon as the children were fast asleep.
I was put into her bed, whilst she, having undressed, sat down in a dressing gown to read the little book I had seen the night before.
Presently coming to the bed, she sat down on the side, and said, "Look here, Phoebe dear, that is what you will have to bear."
I turned my eyes to the book, and saw a picture of a naked man whipping a little girl with a birch rod, the culprit seemed to be crying out with tears in her eyes, whilst a lady also naked was kneeling down and caressing, the stiffened engine of bliss which stuck out in front of the gentleman.
"Do you know, Phoebe," she went on, "that birching is a great inducement to the pleasures of love, and excites both ladies and gentlemen so much that it is often indulged in, not for the purposes of punishment, but to increase their enjoyment, so you need not fear it is so very dreadful; see, here are several more plates showing how the act of love is done, you are too young for that yet, but shall see us do it, and mind, you make yourself useful, Mr. Royston wants you to handle that great thing of his, and after playing with it a little you must insist upon helping him to put it into me, and tickle him behind whilst he is having his fun."
"Have you got little Phoebe here?" asked Mr. R- entering the room in his shirt at the moment.
"Here she is, dear, in my bed," replied Miss Mabel, "but don't be too severe with her."
"You little minx!" he said, approaching the bed, "I've got a bumttckler for you, at least I told Miss Wilberforce to make one; I'll teach you to peep at me again!"
"Oh, pray sir, oh — I don't know what made me do it," I said, frightened, and beginning to sob.
"Out you come, Phoebe! It's no use snivelling before you're touched. Miss Mabel shall whip you well, till you promise never to peep again," he said sharply.
Afraid of the consequences, I tremblingly obeyed, and stood with tearful eyes before Miss Wilberforce. "Oh, do sir, forgive me this once,"
I sobbed.
"No, no, no, you've seen too much, we must make sure of her silence. Mabel, dear, make her kneel down in front of me, as I sit in the easy chair, then I can hold her head and shoulders, whilst you can tackle her bum properly for her," he said, then seating himself I had to kneel in front of him as if saying my prayers, whilst he pulled up my night-dress over my head, and pressed me down right over his organ of love, which I could feel sticking up under his shirt, and throbbing against my face.
They didn't give me much time to think about my position. Swish went the rod, and I felt a sharp stinging cut right round my naked posteriors. Another and another followed in rapid succession. Swish — swish — swish, etc., and if I had not stuffed my night-dress into my mouth, I should have howled with pain, the cuts were so sharp.
"That's right, Mabel, make her feel it till her bottom is well scored with red marks and weals, it's beautiful to see it flush under every cut!" exclaimed Mr., Royston, "touch her upon the tenderest parts, make the ends of the rod tickle the inside of her thighs, don't even let her tittle crack escape free."
He held my head down so tightly, but whether it was my writhing about under the sharp pain, or his own doing I don't know, somehow that great thing of his got uncovered, and was rubbing its nose right in my face.
Remembering Miss Mabel's injunctions, I thought the best plan to avert further punishment would be to fondle it at once, so one hand clasped its immense thickness, whilst my lips caressed the great ruby head; almost in an instant I felt a strong convulsive throb, and if I had not closed my lips at the moment he would have choked me with a tremendous emission, which as it was spurted all over my cheeks and neck.
His hands pressed my face down more and more at the moment, but presently relaxed, and then with a long drawn sigh he leant back exhausted in the chair.
"Look now, you rude girl, what have you done to Mr. Royston? Take that — and that — and that — will you ever peep or be so rude again?"
The housekeeper almost screamed as she finished me off with three tremendous cuts, which I afterward found had fairly brought the blood, still at the moment I did not feel them so much as I had at 6rst, a warm glow pervaded my veins, and I felt on fire for something inexpressible. The pain and pleasure so intermixed as to excite all the lechery of my youthful nature.
Mr. Royston presently took me on his knee and kissed me for the pleasure he told me I had given him, then asked me a lot of questions about what I had seen on the previous night.
"Why I saw you shove this great thing of yours right into Miss Wilberforce," I replied,
"and it didn't seem to hurt her a bit, and then you both heaved and pushed at one another till you suddenly got tired and almost rolled off her, was it that you spurted something into her, like you did in my face just now, sir?"
I was fondling it with my hands, whilst he repaid me with lots of kisses, as his Angers were playing with and tickling my little slit, so that I could hardly sit on his knee.
Miss Wilberforce had thrown off all her clothes, and was now tossing about naked on the bed.
"Phoebe dear, don't play with that stupid man any longer," she at length burst out. "He must know that great thing of his can't have a little girl, bring him here at once to me, darling, or he will again shoot his love juice, and waste what I ought to have."
He had just thrust his tongue in my mouth, but I wrenched my face away, and springing from his lips drew him to the bed by his Cupid's battering ram, then as he got over his longing lady love I slapped his bottom as hard as I could with one hand, whilst the other directed Mr. John Thomas into the haven of bliss, and continued to tickle his hirsute appendages as they dangled against her beautiful buttocks at every plunge.
He seemed rather lazy over the business, but she, to judge by the way she clasped her arms round his neck, threw her legs over his loins, and heaved up to meet every shove of his great engine, (which I could see was glistening with the nectar of love, she could not retain directly he was into her), was in a perfect rage of lustful desire.
"Get the rod, Phoebe," she exclaimed, "and pay him out for whipping you, he is not half brisk enough for me, and will be all night coming if you don't make his bum smart, my dear!"
Too pleased not to do it, I snatched up the rod, and did my duty so well that his posteriors were soon wealed and scored, till they began to look quite raw, and he fairly bounded under my strokes.
At last they came together with cries of delight, such as "you love, you dear, oh shove it into me — give me all — every inch. Ah — oh, oh, oh! I shall die! etc," from Miss Mabel, whilst Mr. Royston audibly groaned out, "Oh, heavens! My God! What a delightful spend!" and then both of them seemed perfectly exhausted for a few minutes as they lay listlessly in each others arms, with their eyes shut, and their limbs loosely but lightly intertwined.
After this I stayed with them rather over a year, and during that time assisted at many of their little parties of pleasure.
At length Mr. Royston, who was really very fond of me, thought I ought to learn a business, so they brought me to town, and apprenticed me to Madame Coulisse, a fashionable milliner, who occupied the whole of the upper part of a large house in New Bond Street.
She had six young ladies as assistants, besides myself and three others as apprentices or improvers, as well as Miss Wallis, the cutter out and sub-manageress under herself.
Our hours were tolerably easy, in fact much more so than I had expected, after all the tales I had heard about overwork, etc. We were only kept to business from nine a.m. to six p.m. daily, in fact there never seemed a great abundance of work about, a few ladies certainly came every day upon business, but Madame evidently did not give great satisfaction, as I heard them complain of the work, and customers very seldom seemed to favour her with a second order.
The apprentices were sent to bed about eight o'clock, and we often heard loud laughing as if gentlemen were in the house, and a great deal of running up and down stairs.
Madame seemed very fond of me, and I was treated with great kindness, in fact she soon had me to act as a lady's maid to herself, and being often alone with her she got from me the complete tale of my previous life.
"Ma foi," she exclaimed, when I had told her all, for she regularly wormed it all from me,
"but you are von leetle cocotte, I will soon make you grand lady. Phoebe is too common a name for my house, I will call you Vanessa, from Milord Byron — good name make fortune."
Then she explained to me that her millinery business was all a sham to keep the house respectable, and that every evening gentlemen came to see the young ladies. "You have gentlemans, and I give you Ane clothes, and no nothing to do."
So the bargain was concluded as it were without my even saying a word.