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Tomboy-Revelations Of A Girls' Reformatory
By Anonymous


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NOTE: This story ends somewhat abruptly. Not sure if this is because the last page is actually missing (publisher error or someone removed), or because it was intended to end in this fashion.  Difficult to say without having another copy to compare to.

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Preface

Several years since, there appeared a rare and curious volume entitled Les Dessous de la Pudibonderie Anglaise with fine etchings by Lambrecht. The author purported to draw aside the veil of prudery and to show the secret designs of England's rulers and her moralists. The picture he gave us maligned the high motives of justices and reformatory masters, political leaders and the nobility. That interesting tome having issued to the public, it has always been our intention to correct the balance, if possible, by showing the other side of the coin. Fiat justitia mat caelum, said the old Roman wisely.

Eighteen months ago, in settling up the estate of a certain gentleman who had gone abroad suddenly, a memoir came to light written in his own hand. His family had not the least idea how they should dispose of it. By means of an intermediary, it was offered to us, upon condition that subjects of old gossip should not be raked up by appending his name to it. To this we agreed and so are able to introduce this document to the world.

Our memoirist has served his country well by judging faults as a magistrate and curbing wanton behaviour in the young female by his reformatory zeal. Yet he does not pretend to be better than other men, having the weakness of the flesh in as marked a degree as they. It was his fate to be involved in a certain disciplinary scandal whose echoes have scarcely died out in some of the newspapers. Like his master, he emerged from this with character unblemished, though he privately admits he was often at fault in his familiarity with certain proteges.

He may be forgiven that, for here you have a man who never ceased to revere and support the Tory party and the aristocracy, the judges and the courts. A figure of public virtue, be he a judge or a master, may have a little slip with a working girl or a reformatory wench, perhaps accept a well-intentioned gift or two from a patron. We must not think the less of him for that. If scandal be allowed to undermine our confidence in such men as the Lord Chancellor or the Prime Minister, Lord Justice Friskitt and Inspector Trotter, England will soon go to the dogs. They lust and folic as other men do in private but it is their public example upon which the future of the nation and empire must depend. The trust which the lower orders have in them must positively not be compromised.

We commend this memoir to the learned reader, though not virginibus puerisque. Its pages are indeed a social study for our new century, the more admirable because they are an encouragement of virtue and a dissuasion from vice. They show the former rewarded and the latter ingeniously chastised by the great men of England, who know how to deal with rebels and malcontents! So long as government is in the hands of heroes like Mr. Bowler and Lord Stifton, Old Britannia will never come to harm through radical plots or red republicanism.

-Paris 9e, Fete Nation, 1912.


CHAPTER ONE - My Apprenticeship

I will not detain you with a long account of my youth. If you have bothered to open these pages at all, I know that it is the scandal of my life and not its boyhood idylls which has prompted you to do so.

To be brief then, I was born in the reign of our late and gracious monarch, near the market-town of Lewes in Sussex. My father was a carpenter and a freeholder of the borough, being a master of his craft. In his middle years he turned to the making of coffins, observing as he did so that there was sure to be a steady demand for the trade. Indeed, the worse the world did, the fuller might his own pockets be. Alas, he little expected that a fine old elm, brought down somewhat askew, would cause him to fill one of his own caskets when I was thirteen years old.

My mother took me at once to Islington where her cousins lived. It was plain that my father's death had robbed me of a carpenter's trade and it was hoped that these town cousins might find a living for me. But the malice of fate had not yet done its worst. Three years later came that summer when the cholera-that scourge from Bengal-had the entire city in its grip. My surviving parent succumbed and I was alone in the world.

The Islington cousins did their best for me-or so they said. I was first of all found a place as coach-boy and then as footman to Mr. Wicks, Justice of the Peace for Lambeth sessions. I owe much of my position in life to him. In my leisure time he encouraged me to practice my reading and my italic hand until the good old gentleman at length made me his clerk. You may be sure that in this capacity I was soon acquainted with the law and its dealings with certain impudent young women! It amused me to observe how lawyers and idle fellows alike would cluster at the justices' door to hear the screams of a young blonde like Jennifer Parry, or Vicky Tanner cavorting energetically while the lash was inflicted upon her bare backside.

I was later to learn from my observation how closely duty and pleasure combine in the infliction of such penalties as Jenny Parry and her kind frequently underwent. The magistrates would preach the necessity of "exemplary chastisement" on the "person" of a pretty culprit. They did not add publicly that the "person" was her bare posterior cheeks, undressed by their own hands or in front of their own eyes!

A year or two passed. Mr. Wicks stood as candidate for parliament, in the Tory interest, for the city of B--------. He did not immediately remove from London but his time as a magistrate came to an end. I might have been without employment but for his kindness. He procured me a place as bailiff to a house of correction in Wapping. It was honest work but dull, escorting delinquents from gaol to court and back again.

My gratitude to him inspired me to continue in this work until I had attained my majority and entered my twenty-second year. Then I heard from my kind benefactor again. If I would be true to the trust he had placed in me. always seeing justice done and wholesome chastisement inflicted, he would seek my appointment as under-master at the female reformatory of B--------.

You may be sure that I accepted the honor with thanks and with great alacrity. A month later, on a fine May morning, I crossed Westminster Bridge from my lodgings, on my way to the coach. The cool and gliding Thames caught the dawn light of that spring morning. The great buildings of the city stood sharply against the palest blue.

It was still early when I reached the yard of the Golden Cross from which the departure was to be made. In the passengers' waiting-room I ordered breakfast and ate heartily with the zeal of one who sets out on a new adventure. I would be a hypocrite if I did not confess to you that the notion of a female reformatory greatly intrigued me. What would my duties be? And what would be my powers over the pretty delinquents in my charge? There were to be forty or fifty of them, so that I did not doubt one or two of them at least must be pretty-perhaps even beautiful.

These private speculations were interrupted by the driver of the coach putting his head round the door and warning us that the time of departure had arrived. In ten minutes more we drove down Cheapside, across the river to the Kent road, and so away from London through the blossom of apple orchards and the spring fields.

We came safe to the noble old town of B--------, its streets busy with soldiers in uniform, the stalls of the market thronged by housewives and fisher folk. With its archways and alleys, the winding stairs of its old inns, the cathedral and the citadel, it seemed a place steeped in England's history. I was set down at the Bull Inn in the High Street, where another conveyance was already waiting to take me privately to my destination. You will understand that I must show some discretion in these memoirs. However, I may tell you that we were not many miles from a bracing and salubrious stretch of coast with fine shingle beaches and promenades of flower-beds and bandstands.

So we set off once more, through the fields and lanes of that gently beautiful countryside, which is not to be seen at its best except in the pride of spring blossom. Every hedge waved with the white flowers of may or hawthorn. The gnarled orchard trees were bright with the pale and pink blossoms, promising a fine apple crop when the autumn should come.

We came at last to an elegant mansion set back from the road, behind walls that would have done credit to a prison which housed the most dangerous villains. There would be no escape from here for any of the pretty delinquents who already peopled my imagination. Yet it looked for all the world like some collegiate building in grey weathered stone. Indeed, this appearance is not to be wondered at, for it owes its foundation to a charter of Edward VI and its construction to the generosity of the townsfolk in the reign of Queen Elizabeth.

You might suppose that a learned college had been set down in this pleasant meadowland. But then you would wonder why all the leaded windows had been so securely barred upon the outside. There is no way in or out except through the main gate with the porter's lodge at one side of the arch. When that gate is closed, I assure you that access and escape are equally impossible.

For all that, the front courtyard is more like a gentleman's residence than a place where fallen female virtue lies under correction. The porter, a bluff old fellow called Joshua, admitted me through the entrance arch as soon as the driver had rung the bell upon its long chain. The carriage came to rest in the first courtyard.

You might have thought it a bishop's palace or a college quadrangle. The lawns and paths were neat as a picture. Fragrant stock and honeysuckle climbed the mellow walls, even to the casement windows of the first floor. Bright afternoon sunlight peeped into the interiors of rooms which the heir of an earl or a marquis need not have scorned. I glimpsed high-ceilinged vaults stamped with Tudor roses upon their plaster. There were tall stone fireplaces of minster design, sofas of padded velvet in the Regency manner, and Turkey carpets richly patterned in red and blue. I passed a dining-room, where two places had been set upon a table of polished mahogany. The knives and forks shone silver and the glass glittered like crystal in the clear light. The tureens appeared to be of the finest hand-painted china and the linen was snow-white Irish, hand-woven and starched.

Of course you are a man of sense, you who read these lines. You are too sensible by far to suppose that the little trollops under correction in this reformatory dined in such a style of elegance. To be sure, they did not. This first courtyard was the preserve of the master and his assistants. Many years ago, when the reformatory institution was first established, it was thought proper that the magistrates of the city and the masters who supervised discipline here should live in a manner which befitted gentlemen. Over the years many a bishop or squire, a successful merchant or a cunning attorney, had endowed the institution for this purpose. In consequence, Master Miles and his assistants were able to live in a most becoming fashion.

The porter, old Joshua, touched his cap as I got down from the carriage. He led the way to the door of the master's own apartments and pulled upon the polished brass of the bell. Now I passed into the custody of the butler Hawkins, who answered the summons. Here, I thought, was a yellowed and hook-nosed old fellow if ever I saw one. Yet one knew, by instinct, that the master's secrets were safe with him. Not a cry or a scream from a schoolgirl or a captive bride would ever be reported to the world by the loyal Hawkins. He conducted me to a drawing-room of handsome proportions, which overlooked the smooth and level grass of the courtyard lawn. The day was warm and through the open casement of the window, the song of blackbird and thrush sweetened the air that was already fragrant with climbing honeysuckle.

Master Miles stood with his back to the chimney-breast and his hands clasped under the tail of his coat. He was a fine and stoutly-built gentleman of fifty years or so. There was a look of resolve in his mouth and jaw, which I would have been reluctant to challenge. His blue eyes had a cool and animated glitter. The whiskers which grew down either cheek were of the mutton-chop variety and aided in conveying an air of old-fashioned severity.

"How d'ye do, sir? How d'ye do?"

He wiped his mouth on his left hand and held out his right to me in a manly grasp.

"It is an honor, sir," I said modesty, "a privilege long sought, to make the acquaintance of one so dear to my patron, Mr. Wicks."

"We know nothing of such honors here, sir! In this place a man is judged by his deeds and not by pretty compliments!"

Away went my practiced flattery with a wave of his hand. So direct and honest was my new master in his dealings with the world!

"I hope, sir," I said, "I hope I shall give satisfaction."

"You shall soon hear of it, if you do not, sir. You may depend upon that!"

There was never such a man for getting down to business as Master Miles proved to be. Without more ado, he launched himself into the details of my employment. I followed him as he went across to the window and gestured to the further courtyards beyond our immediate view. His voice was full and loud.

"We have fifty young sluts within these walls, sir. All of 'em consigned here as being in need of moral correction by example and punishment. A slut understands only one means of being reformed. The whip! Strip her down and whip her well! That must be our trade. There are saucy imps of fourteen and frisky young wives of twenty-five or thirty. You shall reform them all easily enough if you only apply the lash to their bare backsides long and hard. There are one or two of Mr. Bowler's shop girls in our charge-Mr. Saddler Bowler of Cheapside-Maggie the blond slut and Sian the randy wench who encourages her. You would think their bare buttocks itched for the whip-yes, itched for it sir!-by their impudent conduct."

Put yourself in my situation for a moment and you will understand that I did not quite know how to answer him. Did the old fellow mean what he said? Was I truly empowered to summon any girl who took my fancy and strip her naked? Did he mean that I could handle her as I chose and then employ the whip upon the seductive swell of her bare backside and the feminine curves of her thighs? Do not misunderstand me. I did not object to the prospect he offered me. Far from it! But I meant to be certain that he was in earnest.

"I shall endeavor to be of service, sir," I said meekly.

He looked at me with something like scorn in his face. I knew he thought me a milksop but a vestige of old-fashioned dignity prevented him saying so.

"Service?" he said at last, "You shall be of service, young sir. There are blocks to be set out for the little bitches to kneel over and take the lash. There is the job of laying them bare and strapping them down. You shall be of service, never fear."

Such was my introduction to the process by which English law reforms the morals of delinquent girls!

I searched his gruff old face for a sign of humour. There was none. He was in earnest. Either Master Miles had taken leave of his senses or else the justices had provided him with a seraglio of fifty delinquent girls whom he could chastise and enjoy in any manner he chose. Had you seen him then, you would have known that his senses were in perfect order.

Without more ado, he called to one of the matrons crossing the courtyard below his window. She was Mrs. Gedge, an apple-cheeked old body who wore the same uniform of brown Holland cloth as all her sisterhood in that place. Upon his orders, she was to take me round to other courtyards, show me my quarters, and then bring me back for dinner.

You will understand, I know, that the scenes I witnessed in the next hour left me in a state of some confusion. I recall them imperfectly, try as I may. We passed through two more courtyards and saw the walled gardens and paddock beyond. I observed several girls whose names I was afterwards to learn. There was a strikingly beautiful nymph of sixteen with a veil of silken fair hair framing the fine profile of her features and her wide-set blue eyes. I was to see a good deal of Tracey in the future. There was a pert and petite young woman of twenty-two or twenty-three with a wedding ring upon her finger. She had a rather snub face and narrowed blue eyes, which gave her a look of randiness and impudence at the same time. I was also to know her as Jacqueline, a frisky young wife with her auburn hair cropped short as a boy's, lightly waved and hardly touching her collar.

I saw girls demurely bowed over their sewing or embroidery-hoops and others in cotton working-trousers who stooped to the labors of weeding or clearing the ground in the flower-beds. There were two classes of schoolgirls in the reformatory. The fourth-form contained those fourteen-year-olds who were the youngest to be admitted to this adult institution. Then there were the fifth-form girls who were generally about a year older.

They sat at their desks like girls in any other school while a teacher held forth in front of them. In both cases, however, I noticed that a cane and a birch-rod lay upon the table at the front of the room. If I were inventing a story and not telling you the truth as it happened to me, I should now embroider all kinds of romances about the orgies which I spied upon then and there. But I must lay only the facts before you, as the reports in the newspapers have done. The great difference is that I may give you, from my own experience, those details which no newspaper would condescend to print.

In company with the good Mrs. Gedge I toured the courtyards and the rooms which overlooked them. For all my experience as a bailiff, I had never before seen the inside of such an institution as this. It was astonishing to me that the law had consigned here fifty or sixty female delinquents whose ages ran from the youngest at fourteen to the eldest who was nearly thirty years old and had given the master full powers to use their bodies as he wished. Those who know nothing of the English law will be as intrigued as I was that afternoon. Yet you need only read the account of the Hoo Union in the papers of the day to find that the master was entitled to undress and discipline Sarah Barnes at thirteen and Phyllis Blake at twenty-seven! The Rochester justices publicly defended his actions and you may read the fact in the Morning Chronicle or any other pestilential radical journal of the time. Believe me, fiction could not compare with the facts which those papers reported and which I saw with my own eyes!

The truth is that the masters of such places and the magistrates who sent girls to these reformatories learnt a lesson from the scandal at Hoo. For the future they would be more careful. So it was that they chose girls and young women to be reformed whom every man would like to see under discipline. The worthy justices tried to avoid troubling the conscience of the nation and brought them before closed courts in private. They condemned them for such vague offences as moral delinquency or public indecency, which require no evidence beyond the opinion of the magistrate who is both judge and jury in the case. Great care was also taken that the young sluts sent to the reformatory should have no contact with the outside world. No tales were to be told of what was done to them. They would make no trouble for their master.

When Mrs. Gedge led me through the courtyards for the first time, I was innocent of the truth of all this. By the end of that afternoon, I thought I had seen everything there was to see. How wrong I was! This institution was less like a prison and more like a harem of some oriental despot than anyone might have imagined! But this was a secret I had yet to learn.

Perhaps I should have guessed more than I did. How can young married women be locked away, after regular amorous exercise in the nuptial bed, without pining for the comfort between their legs which the law now denies them? How can a schoolgirl tomboy or nymph of fifteen or sixteen forget the fondling of her boy-friend's hand thrust surreptitiously into her knickers? In the beds of the girls' dormitories, there was constant shifting and sighing during the long nights. Sometimes a youngster or a mature woman sought consolation alone and sometimes in the arms of another. The laws and desires of female nature are not suspended merely because the county justices decide to send an impetuous beauty to such a place as this for the next five or six years of her life. It may be that she desires no lusty romp but merely the comfort of being held in another's arms. How soon such tender affection turns to writhing, caressing, and downright masturbation of one girl by another, I was soon to see for myself!

All this I had yet to discover. That afternoon I was still an innocent in the ways of woman's heart. Least of all did it occur to me that I might become the great object of desire to several dozen young females! It is a thing of which a man may dream but which in the normal course of life appears laughable. In the present situation, however, I was one of only four men among fifty or sixty pining girls. The other three men were the master, the butler, and the gatekeeper. Mr. Miles himself was a vigorous gentleman of fifty or so, in the prime of condition. Yet Hawkins and Joshua were past their best and hardly adequate to the lusts of female adolescence. I was the youngest man there by more than twenty- years.

I had some inkling of the moral danger in which I stood when Mrs. Gedge was obliged to leave me for about twenty- minutes, in order to assist with some duty which the other matrons were carrying out. I did not inquire beforehand what it was and afterwards my mind was too full of other things to remember.

Beyond the last courtyard there was a stable-block and a harness-room with a long window fronting the yard of the reformatory. It was a curious sight at first, for the sheets of plate glass were large enough for a shop window.

This splendid window in the harness-room drew my attention. I learnt its significance later. Mr. Bowler, the chairman of the magistrates for the county, was a famous saddler, as Mr. Miles had mentioned to me. His fashionable emporia might be seen in Brighton and Bath, Windsor and Oxford, Cheapside and St James's. You will find that his name occurs often in memoirs of the scandalous kind but this did him no harm whatever in the way of trade. The favour of aristocracy and even royalty had been bestowed upon his horse-furniture. It was a prince of the blood who commended Mr. Bowler's saddles and harness to the notice of the War Department and the Horse Guards. In consequence, he soon became supplier of such things to several of our finest mounted regiments.

Ever the man of business, Justice Bowler saw how he might turn the reformation of fallen female virtue to his own profit. It is the boast of our judicial system that girls who are committed to such a place as this will emerge after several years able to pursue some useful trade or occupation. Mr. Bowler saw how such a boast might turn to his advantage. There are many wealthy philanthropists who visit girls' reformatories from time to time. Mr. Bowler devised this means of display by which his goods were to be shown off. The visitors might believe that the reformation of the girls would be aided by their purchases. At one stroke he increased his trade and bought his way into the hearts of our most influential patrons!

I later heard it was a year previously that he had ordered the construction of this fine window in the harness-room. Several of the girls were to be trained as his assistants for his emporium in the city. In the meantime they must learn to polish and display his goods for the carriage trade which passed this way.

In a few years, he would choose girls to be released on license. The first condition was that they must serve Mr. Bowler as his domestics or shop girls. They would not be paid wages, for they would require none. It would be their destiny to live under his roof and obey his every command for the next five years. At the first attempt to escape him, they would be fetched back and must begin their time in the reformatory again, from the very first day. It is not surprising that Mr. Bowler's business went from strength to strength when he had this supply of reluctant but unpaid labor. But he was also a great one for having such young wenches under discipline privately and enjoying himself with them as a fine man of fifty may with a young tart of nineteen or twenty-.

The world was to hear much of Mr. Bowler and his triumphs over the insolence of such working-girls. Perhaps his greatest victory was in the case of Noreen, a strapping young trollop of nineteen years old then in his employ. Given harness, pony-lash and his shop girl with her strapping young bottom bare, there was nothing he could not achieve. Hour after hour, the full broadened cheeks of Noreen's bare ass were thrashed until she was thoroughly broken-in.

How Mr. Bowler enjoyed himself with these impudent young sluts may be read in such choice volumes as the memoirs of Lord Frederick Cyr and the letters of Lord Augustus B-------- to his cousin Lady Maude L--------.**

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** School for Scandal and Augustus and Lady Maude, to be had of the Society of Private Bibliophiles, Rue du Faubourg Montmartre, 13, Paris 9e. In these volumes Justice Bowler is to be found dealing with Maggie, Sian and their kind as they deserve. The training of Noreen, Claire and his other girls is described with a detailed account of the means employed. 

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At the time of which I speak, I knew nothing of such revelations. So it was that, innocent of what awaited me, I took a stroll down to the stables while Mrs. Gedge was occupied. There I saw the display window with its saddles and other equipment set out for public admiration.

I was intrigued by this arrangement and by the sight of the two insolent girls who were working just then to set out the saddles and harness in the sunlit window space. I knew them later to be Maggie and Sian. They were a pair of robust but indolent young whores, whom it was my fate to encounter on a good many future occasions. You may read more of them in the other volumes of memoirs. Yet I doubt if anyone can tell you more of Maggie than I can. She was to be under my eye, in dreams and reality, from the time she was a more innocent girl in her later teens with a sweep of blond hair on her shoulders like a timid child, until ten years later when she appeared a bold-faced slut of twenty-five or so with a contrived mane of golden ringlets!


I suppose Maggie was about twenty- when I just set eyes on her. I judged her companion Sian to be a year or so younger. They made a good pair. Mag had a somewhat stocky young figure, robust and able to endure a good ride. Sian, with her shock of red hair, blue eyes, and little red bud of a mouth was a trimmer and slimmer girl.

I do not boast of being nature's gift to womankind! The reason that my appearance caused notice was that any creature with a penis and a pair of trousers was welcome to young sluts like Maggie and Sian. If you yearn for my adventures with high-born ladies, I cannot yet oblige you. My life was first to be passed among insolent tomboys and teenage nymphs, vulgar shop girls and randy young wives. I learnt of their lewdness and their cunning, for at fifteen or twenty-five the girls of the reformatory would expose the intimate details of their loins and backsides to a man before they would reveal the ways of their hearts.

As I stood there that afternoon, Maggie and Sian affected not to notice me, though I could see them conversing from the comers of their mouths. They were not dressed for Rotten Row nor for the Park. Fine dresses and lace are for young ladies who deserve them. Working girls of this sort, whom polite society rarely sees, dress as the laboring class must. A blouse and a pair of cotton working-trousers were their everyday wear. It suited well, for one can imagine the havoc caused by a trailing skirt among the objects piled up for display behind the plate glass.

I watched them at their work and it came into my head that, next to Mr. Miles, I was the master of this pair of young wenches. I might do as I pleased with them. My heart beat faster and the exhilaration of the thought mounted to my brain. I did not intend to proceed to extreme measures then and there, but I was not to be deterred by the boldness of Maggie's rather crude-featured young face nor by red-haired Sian's pouting mockery.

At the very least I would walk across and have a good look at them while I waited for Mrs. Gedge. It would humble them a little, I thought, to know that they were being inspected for my satisfaction, without smiles or flirting, as one inspects a pony before buying it.

No more than the thin sunlit glass separated us. I began with Maggie and scrutinized the length of her blond hair which lay just across her shoulders at the back. I considered the charming fringe of it on her forehead which softened the firm crudity of her pale features and the present dullness of her grey-blue eyes. Maggie wore no wedding-ring upon her finger yet a glance at the young shop girl's vulgar figure and her sluttish way of standing left no doubt that she had had many a helping of masculine sausage in the shabby bedrooms of her back-street romances.

I considered her outline in blouse and pants. Maggie was a well-built girl whose figure was somewhat marred by lack of height-or more accurately lack of length in her thighs. This emphasized her stocky and sturdy qualities rather than those of grace and elegance. I was pleased that the cotton denim was drawn tight on her thighs, so that one could see their shape and weight, imagining what one would like to do to her in that area! Presently she had to kneel on all fours to polish the floor of the room where she had been setting out her master's harness. The strained jeans-cotton showed hips that were wide and robust, while Maggie's bottomcheeks filled out broadly and firm.

There is no single way in which one treats all women-or all men. An elegant young lady demands the kissing of her hand and great deference. The pleasures of grace and admiration belong to her, as the delights of vulgarity and crudeness are offered by Maggie. While she knelt over on all fours, I stood there and considered the view offered by the sturdy ass of the young blonde. Mag seemed a girl who deserved only that lewd kind of examination. Indeed, it was me only admiration to which Maggie or Sian knew how to respond. To make romantic love to such as they would be to drive them into sniggers or ribald contempt. They must be treated as they deserve.

These two girls were to play an important part in my initiation and therefore I have said something of them. Sian, with her short crop of red hair and neater figure, had a little more delicacy than Maggie but not much. Where Mag was bold and crude in face and conduct, Sian was more sulkily and slyly pouting. I had just devised this distinction between them when Mrs. Gedge returned and my first encounter with the pair of delinquents was at an end.

The great event of that evening was my first dinner with Mr. Miles. My life so far had been carefully lived, though not in true poverty. There had been the bailiffs' dinners, given by the city corporations in recognition of our services to the livery companies. Wine flowed and the roast was of the best, upon the lord mayor's orders. You are not then to suppose me some ruffianly fellow who did not know how to conduct himself in polite society. Rather, think of me as one born into a prosperous and honest family but beset by misfortune in early years. All the same I am the first to admit that the splendors of the corporation dinners in the City occurred only two or three times annually. The master's dinner, at which I sat this first evening, in the reformatory of B______ , was served in such a manner every night!

Before I sat down to dinner opposite Mr. Miles, I was shown my bachelor quarters overlooking the garden courtyard. They were plainly furnished but everything was of the best quality-no cheap-jack here! The sheets were freshly laundered and scented with lavender, the pillows soft and fragrant. I found a decanter and a tobacco jar provided, as well as a bookcase with one or two choice volumes.

That there were other pleasures at hand, I did not doubt, but still I could not believe I should be permitted to taste them. Outside the door of my suite, which contained a bedroom and sitting-room, the stone stairs began, to whose lock I alone possessed the key from dusk until dawn. And to either side stood an archway, the portal which led to a room with six beds and a girl in each of them. When I locked the stair head door and retired for the night, I was closeted with a dozen girls until morning.

I believe that the justices considered the girls as chaperones for each other in this situation. Indeed they might have been if they had been chaste and modest. They were nothing of the kind. With few exceptions they would encourage lewdness rather man check it.

On that balmy summer evening, while it was still full sunlight in the garden courtyard, I sat down opposite the master while the cut-glass sparkled on the linen cloth and the silver plate shone like white fire. There was iced Sherry Wine and a dry Hock to follow. We began our food with Whitstable oysters and continued it with salmon mayonnaise, roast beef, ripe Stilton cheese and last of all strawberries from the private garden.

If I did not give my full attention to this, it was because I was watching the movements and the eyes of our waitress.

Though Jacqueline was twenty-two or twenty-three years old and a married woman, she was a petite young imp who richly deserved some vigorous use. No taller or larger than most girls of fifteen, her auburn hair was cropped and lightly waved, shaped plainly to her head and cut short at her collar. It was a little as one sees in the paintings of some mediaeval page-boy. Jackie's face showed neat straight features and narrow light blue eyes from which often issued a defensive mockery of those who feasted their thoughts upon her. Her facial beauty was small-boned and heart-shaped but, upon reflection, one could anticipate the slight coarsening and pudginess which would mar her in several years more.

My eyes followed her everywhere. Though petite, Jacqueline's figure was well worth a man's admiration. She was best seen in a pair of tight pants, though she wore a skirt on this first occasion. Her thighs were slender and her buttocks were firmly but appealingly rounded. When she bent over, Jacqueline's rear view was most provoking. Her bum-cheeks were not only trim and tightly rounded, they were distinctively and suggestively separated by this posture, in the most delightfully lewd invitation! Though she was a young married woman, her figure had that youthful backward thrust of the hips, flat-bellied, which threw her nimble backside saucily into prominence.

I kept glancing at her throughout the meal-and I wondered what delinquency had brought this petite young wife into the reformatory and for how long she was to be deprived of her husband's comforter. I later learnt that Jacqueline had needed it often in his bed and I did not doubt she missed it terribly. I heard that she had been sent to reformatory training for four years and that three of them still lay ahead. It seems that she had long since ceased to conceal her nightly self-caressing from the other girls in the nearby beds.

Like most young women who lack height, she moved her slim legs quickly and with a delightfully lascivious little swagger of her hips. If I had heard Mr. Miles aright, Jacqueline was one of a dozen girls who would be at my disposal all night and every night behind the locked door at the stair head-to which I alone had the key!

We had scarcely finished our strawberries from the silver bowl (a gift of an alderman in the reign of George IV) and the coffee had just been served by the girl, when the master turned his attention to her.

"Take off your skirt, Jacqueline. You shall do without it for a minute."

There was a brief apprehension in her pert young face, but she did as she was told. There was no scandal in this. Even under the skirt she was clad waist to ankles in thin corduroy pants of russet brown. They were tight-fitting, to be sure, but they covered her.

"Now," said the master, "rum and bend. Catch yourself hold by the ankles and stay until I order you otherwise! I have a score to settle with you, you little bitch."

It was a curious way to address her, you might think, and his language was none of the finest. Yet I beg you to believe that nothing had yet happened which was either against law or decency. You shall presently see how my own character was undermined by these girls-and let it be a lesson to the world. I fear, though, you will learn nothing from my experience unless you understand how gradual was my fall into vice.

The young woman obeyed, turning her back and bending right over until the crop of auburn hair that was brushed back to either side of her forehead almost touched her knees. The stretched russet cord of the pants moulded the straining of her slim thighs and the trimly rounded tightness of the cheeks of Jacqueline's ass! He kept her bending like this for ten or fifteen minutes while he teased her with her misdemeanors.

"Are your pants hot, Jacqueline? If they are, it is your own randiness that makes them so, you little slut! Do you itch for it, Jackie? Do you? Ah, yes! I think you do!"

Would you not have thought this a curious and dangerous tone for the master of a reformatory to use towards a delinquent young wife who was his prisoner? For my own part, I had no idea what was coming next. Jacqueline shifted a little. The tail of her blouse parted company from her pants and we saw a band of smooth fair skin at the rear of her waist as she bent over. Though she was petite in stature, this posture broadened and filled out Jacqueline's bottomcheeks in the russet corduroy, reminding one that she was a mature young woman for all her dainty build.

But why did he keep her like this? To what was it all leading?

"Did you not have a girl of sixteen in your bed last night, Jacqueline?" he asked quietly.

"No!" Jackie's answer was muffled and uncertain. I guessed she was lying.

"You each slipped your knickers off and had some sport together," the master smilingly accused her.

At this she was silent. The justice of the charge was beyond denial. But how was he so sure?

"A pair of young Tracey's knickers was found among your sheets this morning while you were at breakfast," he said, still teasing her with a smile, "Tracey confessed as soon as she was confronted. I congratulate you on your taste!"

She could say nothing, bending over before him and clutching her ankles. I saw her twist her face round once and caught the pertness of her somewhat snub-nose and the slight apprehensive widening of her blue eyes.

"I hope that you had fun together," he went on, "and that you will think the thrill was worth the price I shall make you pay. It would be a mistake to deal with a young woman of your sort too quickly and easily. By making you wait we shall add to your punishment a wholesome dread and anticipation."

As if to make her heart beat all the faster with fright, he would not tell her for a moment or two what her fate was to be.

"Tomorrow morning," he said at length, "Mrs. Gedge shall take you to the stables. You will choose three birch-switches from the store. They are to be three feet long and well budded, thick as a little finger at one end and quiveringly slim at the other. You will bring them to me for my approval. Then you shall use the twine and bind twelve inches of the thicker ends into a handle. The rest you will put to soak in the trough of brine. They shall stay there two weeks."

Only then did I catch his meaning.

"You shall pay your price on justices' night, Jacqueline. A prison birching from the hangman. Thirty strokes across your bare buttocks and legs. We shall see if your pants grow as hot after that!"

He then turned to me and talked of other matters, just as if the petite young woman was not bending there, obliged to offer the cheeks of her pretty rump, turned up in so suggestive a fashion!

It was a couple of hours later when I climbed the stone stairs to my room above the courtyard and locked the sturdy door in the archway behind me. To either side were those other doors with six girls sleeping or fretting behind each. A romancer who had no concern but to spin a story would now boast of how he made his way in and ravished the twelve damsels one after another. I assure you that I did nothing of the kind.

I lay down at last with a sense of wonder and a little unease at what had so far been revealed to me. You must remember that I was not entirely ignorant of the law and its manner of dealing with wanton or delinquent girls. Yet I had never witnessed nor even heard of anything like this house of correction over which Mr. Miles presided.

The truth is that I was torn between excitement at the things I should be able to do and the apprehension that some great scandal was going to engulf us all the moment I attempted to take such a liberty.

As the next few months were to show, I was entirely justified in both my anticipation of pleasure and my apprehension at the inevitable scandal which might ensue.

CHAPTER TWO - House of Correction

I woke the first morning in that room above the sunlit courtyard and felt that all my misgivings of the evening before were dispersed. They had faded as a nightmare does in the strong light of the new day. Already the sun was warm on that finely weathered Tudor stone outside the window. The walls were fragrant with climbing stock in yellow and pink, while a light dew sparkled on the neat lawns. Further off, where the stately elms rose from the surrounding fields, I heard the caw of rooks from their high nests and the plaintive calling of doves.

I mention these things to show you how far removed the world of the reformatory seemed to be that morning from my worst imaginings or from the heated fantasies of sensationalism.

As I lay in bed and gazed up at the old beams of the ceiling, there came a gentle knock at the door. It was opened by a girl of about nineteen or twenty-. What a contrast she was to the hard-faced bold stare of Maggie the stocky young blonde or Sian the trim young redhead with her sensuous sniggering.

"They call me Kim, sir. I am to be your servant."

Whatever her name was, the other girls had contracted it to this single syllable! That is common with such sluts. They are all Mag or Sal, Deb or Cath, to one another. Occasionally they allow a girl two syllables, so that Teresa becomes Tracey for a while-until Tracey is reduced to plain Trace.

Let us give our attention to Kim!

She had far more grace and better manners than such young whores as Maggie and Sian. I wonder if you would have thought her beautiful? She had an air of moody sensuality but this was perhaps the result of her looks rather than her disposition. Kim's eyes were large and dark which gave great intensity to her glances. Her features were firm enough and her lips were rather full with a sulky downward turn in the line of her mouth.

Whether she would prove to be a creature of moods and sulks I did not know but it was evident that a certain passion animated her looks and the light rouge on her cheeks heightened this. Kim's thick dark hair was usually a carefully modelled shock, which must have required her attention night and morning. She sometimes wore it down, lightly waved to the level of her collar. On this first morning, however, she had put it up into a coquettish bun. A fringe was combed forward on her forehead and a few stray tendrils fell charmingly about her slim neck. She had a firm but quite delicate profile so that this style suited her.

"Come in and show yourself, Kim," I said, teasing her a little already.

She obeyed and entered the room, carrying a tray upon which my morning tea had been set out. She placed this on the table and stood there as if waiting for a command. I was pleased that she had not yet put on all her finery of black skirt and coatee. Kim was one of the girls who worked at the more genteel arts of sewing and embroidery rather than at a more common task in the manner of Sian or Maggie.

Just then she was dressed only in a short grey top and blue cotton underpants which encased her skin-tight from waist to ankles. Wanting to add a little to her height, which is so often the case with some of these girls, Kim had chosen shoes whose heels were quite steeply raised.

So you may see that my attention was drawn early to this moody dark-haired Venus of nineteen or twenty-. I made her stand there a moment more and allowed my eyes to wander up and down the length of her lithe and agile young thighs in their tight blue cotton. I assure you that she was completely covered and that her pants were not slit open fore and aft as used once to be the case.

"May I fetch your shaving water?" Kim asked in that lilting voice which added to her seductive qualities.

I dismissed her to attend to this errand at once, watching her as she turned and walked away. Her trim young figure was well displayed, the wool of the grey top shaping her breasts' firm tilt and the tight smoothness of her blue cotton pants showing her rear view from the waist downwards. Kim has a nice shape to her legs. Her lithe and agile thighs branch out and up from the knees. Her buttocks are tautly rounded and she swings them and sways them widely with the energy of her walk. Perhaps it is the tilting of the tall heels on her shoes which makes her do this. Many of her movements just then emphasized the swaying of Kim's bottom-cheeks. I smiled as I watched her, wondering if she was unaware of the rear prospect she was offering me as she walked or whether she was doing it deliberately to provoke me and encourage my interest! I think that Kim did not realise the sight she presented!

How could I resist certain imaginings as I lay back on the sunlit pillows and waited for the hot shaving water? It is common enough for a man to indulge himself in a fancy or two when confronted with such a girl in such a situation. But my prospects were somewhat more promising. It was halfway through these waking dreams that I experienced a shock of recollection. I sat up in bed, astonished at the thought which had just crossed my mind.

If Mr. Miles had spoken the truth, Kim was not my servant in the ordinary way. She was to obey any command that I might give her. My power over her was absolute in the reformatory. If I chose to find some fault with her, I might order her to take down her pants and lie over the bed, as soon as she returned with the shaving water. My hand should become feelingly acquainted with the bare cheeks of Kim's bottom and her thighs, even lightly touching the intimacy which peeped between her legs.

Of course, I should have to give Kim a smacked ass in order to account for her undressed state but that would hardly be disagreeable to a man of my sort! After that, I need only report to the master that the girl had shown impudence or some inattention to her duties. Far from earning a reproach for what I had done to her, the spanking of Kim would inscribe my name in the master's good books that very first day.

You will understand why I hesitated to do such a thing. I could not believe that my powers were such as I had been told. Surely, at the very first news of my having Kim with her knickers down across my bed, there would be a policeman at the porter's gate ready to lead me away in handcuffs to the B-------- lock-up. Would you not have thought the same?

However, when Kim returned, I saw no harm in testing my powers a little. It was not that I wished to embarrass or humiliate the girl but I meant positively to know if Mr. Miles had spoken the truth.

I was dressed in shirt and trousers by the time that the girl entered with the can of hot water. Against one wall there stood a low chest of drawers, no higher than a table but too heavy to move. Between the back of the chest and the wall there was a gap about two inches wide. It gave room for a girl like Kim to slip her hand down there.

As soon as she had put down the hot water on the marble wash-stand, I beckoned her across.

"Over here, Kim! There is a collar-stud missing from my box. I believe it has gone down behind the drawers. Find it for me, if you please!"

She looked at me with the intensity of her dark eyes, their pupils all the more brilliant for being surrounded by such whites. I think her cheeks may have coloured up a little under their light application of rouge. Whether the tones of the paint box are smuggled in or improvised, such young ladies of the reformatory contrive to darken their eyelashes, brighten their lips, and powder their cheeks!

"May I put on my skirt first of all, sir?" Kim asked in her quiet lilting tones.

"By no means!" You may be sure I would not permit it! "Find the stud at once!"

Do you see what I had in mind? Kim was a girl superior in many ways to Maggie and Sian. I wished her to present herself in the most vulgar manner for my contemplation and to see how she responded. With a slight heightening of the blush, she faced the chest of drawers and bent forward over it in order to delve into the space behind.

What a pretty picture she presented to the room! As she bent forward, the girl's hips in the tight cotton pants were nicely rounded and the material strained taut on her graceful young thighs. She tried at first to hold her left hand over the seat of her pants as she searched with her right. But she could not reach properly without going right forward and using both. I sat on the bed a couple of feet away and smiled at the sight. The smoothly tightened cotton shaped the two firmly swelling cheeks of Kim's bottom and the hint of soft pussy-flesh between the rear of her legs.

"I shall make you search until you find it, Kim! You may depend upon that!"

Need I tell you that all this time the collar-stud was safely enclosed in my hand? Once or twice she twisted her head, the stray tendrils of hair brushing her slim neck, the large dark eyes confronting me and the downward turn of her mouth still more evident.

"I can't find it, sir! Really I can't!"

Her alarm was something more than the unease she felt at having to show me her young backside in such a tempting posture.

"Continue to search for it, Kim!"

She did so, twining her legs a little and pressing one knee into the back of the other as if she thought this might show me less of what nestled between her thighs. As she moved this way and that, delving behind the drawers, her hips shifted one way and another, the cheeks of Kim's backside rounding and tensing in a subtle variation of curves.

"I'm not dressed yet," she murmured presently without turning to look at me, "I'll be late for work. Don't make me late, please!"

I got up with a smile and stood just behind her.

"Do they punish you for being late, Kim?" I was sure that they did. "How do they do it?"

For a moment she could not reply. Then, her voice muffled by the way her face was turned from me, she murmured, "The cane." .

I studied the rear view of her as she still bent over and searched for the mysterious collar-stud.

"Do they use it across your ass, Kim?"

I had no doubt of this, but the girl could not bring herself to reply.

"Is it your ass, Kim?"

This time she uttered an affirmative, most reluctantly and in a doleful voice. I was her master, however, and I would not for the world allow her to escape such a penalty. I determined that this morning Kim was going to be late.

Standing right over her I shaped my hand upon the two rear cheeks which the seat of her pants presented so conveniently. The cheeks tightened a little nervously. When my fingers lightly touched the strained cotton between her legs, I thought she was going to straighten up in defiance. A flash of her dark eyes and the heightened colour in her face was soon subdued, however.

"You will remain until the stud is found, Kim! Make up your mind to that!"

There would be no complaint at what I was doing to her now, I reasoned, for there could be no evidence. My fingers smoothed the insides of her thighs comfortingly and then I felt the swelling globes of Kim's bottom-cheeks once more. Wanting her to feel that she had been intimately explored, even while still wearing her pants, I drew a finger deep in the warm cleft between the cheeks of Kim's ass. She gasped at this for I do not think that even her boy-friend had ever ventured there. And yet it is an area which any man would want to explore when presented with a dark-haired and shock-haired girl of nineteen who possessed Kim's sultry appeal.

"You shall be late this morning, Kim," I said quietly, "I warn you, however, that if I suspect the least defiance in you, I shall make a report to the master himself. It would please me to know that you were first caned and then had to lie bare-bottomed over the study sofa for a taste of the stable lash!"

It pleased me greatly to let her know my true feelings in the matter. The first advantage of the reformatory, in my own opinion, is that it dos away with all hypocrisy. The system is so arranged that one's power over a girl like Kim is absolute. She herself is never in a position to tell tales of what is done to her. No protests ever pass beyond the walls of the reformatory and the frenzy or screams are silenced by the massive stonework of the vault where discipline is inflicted. Even after several years of confinement here, Kim would only be permitted a release upon license. She must live under the roof of Mr. Bowler or some other worthy gentleman, just as if she were a slave.

There is, then, no need and no purpose in concealing from a girl the pleasure one has in doing certain things to her. The only restriction is one which cannot be too strongly insisted upon. For a girl to acquire a swollen belly while she is prisoner in such a place risks scandal. The master and justices who had her in their power might ensure that nineteen-year-old Kim saw plenty of "masculine gristle" during her residence and that she was obliged to take ample helpings of it. But there were always certain discretions to be observed.

At least I allowed her to straighten up.

"Very well, Kim. You shall go and finish dressing now. We shall resume the search for the collar-stud later on."

She left in a great hurry, no doubt hoping that she would still be in time for her work. I had, however, taken care to detain her until five minutes after the hour when she should have appeared in the sewing-room.

After this diverting encounter with dark-eyed Kim, breakfast was a leisurely affair. You are not to suppose that Kim, Maggie, Sian and their kind are permitted to rise from their beds and then eat without working for it! An hour's industrious toil precedes the meal. My own breakfast was taken with the master in the fine room where we had dined the night before. Now the sideboard was set out with chafing dishes and bowls which contained devilled kidneys, bacon, pickled eggs, and enough grilled delicacies to feed a dozen strong men.

He spoke little at the meal, retiring first behind the pages of the Morning Post and then the Times, muttering from time to time that red republicanism and radical subversion would be the ruin of us all. I did not dispute with him in the matter. Provided that my new appointment was secure and that my patrons flourished, I was not a man for politics one way or the other. Mr. Miles, however, was a Tory of the old school. He was for John Bull and Old England, as he assured me on more than one occasion.

"Walk about and learn your trade, sir!" he said to me as soon as the meal was ended. "You can do little good until you have an idea of things here. A little experience and the use of your own eyes is worth more than a lecture from me!"

So it was that I spent the first day and several days more in roaming the fine old buildings of the reformatory and seeing how the world wagged. You may be sure that I saw a great deal and yet most of it is eclipsed in my mind by the drama and the scandal which followed. I watched once again the fourth-form and fifth-form girls at their lessons, sitting in rows at their desks. I observed Maggie performing her chores in her characteristically sluttish manner, stretching and bending for all the world as if to insult the passing scene by a display of her sturdy young rump in the tight denim seat of her working-trousers. I watched Sian with her light red tresses and easy lewdness. She paraded before me as if her wriggling young ass had a mind of its own!

There were curious incidents, you may be sure. Some of them are clear in my mind now as when they happened. The second afternoon, Sian passed me in the company of the porter and two of the matrons. The girl had a most unusual look about her. Her russet tresses were in a little disarray as they hung to brush her shoulders. Her blue eyes were wider and her lips parted as if in some apprehension.

The women held her by either arm until they had passed through the doorway of the master's study. Sian was wearing the working-trousers of tight white denim which showed her to be a slim-thighed girl and the cheeks of her bottom to be nicely rounded but firm and taut. I confess that I loitered there, intrigued by what was about to happen.

"Take your pants off, Sian," said Mr. Miles briskly, "or else have them taken off for you! Wearing knickers underneath, Sian? Keep them for the moment. Now, lie bottom-upwards over the leather sofa!"

From the creaking of the wooden frame I knew this last command was being obeyed.

"Arms against the sofa-legs, Sian, so that the matrons can strap your wrists to them!"

The dry squeak of strained leather proclaimed the accomplishment of this.

"I'll pull your briefs down in a moment, Sian. But first the cushions under your belly and loins to make you swell your cheeky young backside properly."

I was possessed by the mad idea that none of this was happening. They were all standing behind the door of the room and reciting their parts for my benefit! Then the others came out, leaving the master alone with the young redhead. He had not yet closed the door, however.

"The prison birch-rod and the cane for your punishment lesson this afternoon, Sian! You like having your knickers taken down for other purposes, don't you, you randy little piece? Lie still while I pull them off, Sian, you young whore! That's better. Mr. Snook likes a pair of briefs when a girl of your sort has given them hard wear for a day or two."

The conversation seemed preposterous! Who was Mr. Snook? The name itself was bizarre. What could he want with a pair of Sian's knickers which the girl had worn hard for a day or two? I was soon to know the answer to such questions.

"Keep those bare legs tight together, Sian, while I pinion your ankles to the foot of the sofa. And now the strap round your thighs, just above your knees."

When the ripple of leather was over, there was the impact of a hand on the smooth cheeks of Sian's bare bottom.

"Better get in the mood for plenty of that, Sian!" said the master waggishly, "Ready to hear your sentence? In half an hour you shall receive a full reformatory caning. Your backside and your legs. Then an hour to lie there and wait. After that a prison birching to skin those tight young bottomcheeks."

I caught a murmured protest and self-pity but not her words.

"You'll scream, Sian," said the master reassuringly, "You may depend on that! Never fear, you shall not disturb the others. Mr. Snook will value your knickers all the more for knowing that they have made such a convenient wad to quieten you."

There were sounds of Sian's revulsion through pressed lips. Then there came a muffled dismay as her resistance was overcome, perhaps by pinching her nostrils closed. All further protests were muted, as if through a mouthful of gag-

The door closed abruptly and I heard the master lock it on the inside in order to prevent interruptions. I can tell you little more but what I overheard faintly through the stout panels. You may be sure that I returned in half an hour. The bamboo makes a light sound when cleaving the air but a considerable smack when applied with the force which the master used upon the taut bare cheeks of Sian's bottom. I cannot promise that I counted every stroke but I can vouch for forty lashes of bamboo which the lewd young redhead received across her pert young ass. The response to these was a trapped mewing sound which left to the imagination the shrillness of the cries that Sian tried to utter through her gag-

An hour later it was the swish of the birch, applied with exemplary vigour to Sian's bare bottom. I saw nothing of this, of course, and yet I feel sure that when it was over the public hangman himself would have congratulated Mr. Miles on the well-disciplined state of Sian's buttocks and legs.

I mention this incident because it was the first proof I had received that the master meant every word he had spoken to me on the previous day. Yet you will agree with me that it was one thing to inflict wholesome and necessary chastisement upon such a young slut as Sian-and quite another to employ her for those purposes which most men would have chosen.

Perhaps, after all, there was nothing but discipline within the reformatory. The lewd revels which I had imagined were no more than the fantasies of a disordered mind. A few hours later I dined with Mr. Miles as usual. He said nothing of his punishment-session with Sian that afternoon. I judged it imprudent to raise the matter. It would not do for him to think me an eavesdropper or a peeping torn. It proved later that he had not the least objection to discussing such matters. However, putting Sian bottom-upwards over the study sofa for the afternoon and thrashing her young backside soundly was so routine an event that he did not think it worth a mention. The editorials and the news in the day's Morning Post were more the subject.

I withdrew to my room that evening after the meal, still puzzling a good deal over the events of the day. I had sat in the leather chair and lit my pipe, when I was aware of sounds beyond the wall. They must come from the washroom which the girls used. I got up in some puzzlement and walked across to that wall. As I did so, I noticed a chink of light behind a chest of drawers, similar to that of the collar-stud adventure in the morning.

It was not a peephole from one room to the next. To move that chest of drawers would have been a labor for two or three men and it seemed screwed into place. I puzzled for a moment as to the purpose of the gap. Even if the previous occupant of the room had been the most outrageous libertine, what purpose was served by a window in the wall through which one could not look? You see I tell you this story as it happened-not as it might more conveniently have happened but never did.

I stood there like a fool for several minutes, never seeing the answer to the riddle. Then it struck me. One took the drawer out at that level! Of course that was it! The concealment of the spy-port was perfect. Turning down the gas, I gently drew the wooden drawer out of the chest and looked through the space. I supposed the "window" must have been disguised as a mirror on the wash-room side. From where I knelt, one saw through a gap the size of the drawer. A foot high and two feet long. It was as if I stood in that other room.

What was happening? Three of the matrons, whose names I did not then know, had entered the wash-room in their brown holland dresses. Standing at their centre and looking very self-conscious was Kim. She was, however, dressed in the grey woollen top and the blue cotton pants, as she had been when she came to me that morning.

It will not surprise you to hear that her dark brown eyes now stared very wide and intent at the women who had brought her there. I think she must have been about to go to bed for the bun of dark hair was unpinned and she wore it down, lightly waved to her collar and carefully styled. The pretext for bringing her there was to make her clean and neat for the cane!

Whoever was to chastise her for her offence of lateness that morning, the discipline was to be inflicted next day. Kim was required to present a bare bottom that had been bathed and polished to perfection.

"Lie over the wash-stool, Kim!" said one of the matrons, smiling at her.

Without giving her a chance to obey, the three of them took hold of her and pushed the girl down on her belly over the marble stool, so that Kim had to support herself on her hands at one side, while her legs extended straight on the other. One of the women pinned her down by holding her round the waist. Another held her arms. The third undid her at the waist and drew Kim's pants down below her knees, lb see her bare and pale from the back of her waist to the back of her knees was enough to make one's mouth water.

The woman who had pulled Kim's knickers down now took the soft soap and the bowl of warm water. Kim twisted her face round and I was glad that she did so on the side I could see. I settled down to watch her. As on that morning, her dark eyes were wide and intense, her full lips betraying dismay and anger, the colour in her cheeks making her more charming than rouge could ever have done.

"A smack on the bottom to make you lie still, Kim Roberts!" the woman said. The cheeks of Kim's ass were smooth and round, so that she was well positioned for it. A dozen times the woman's hand made the tiles ring as she spanked the nineteen-year-old beauty. I saw Kim flinch and bite her lip. She jigged her backside urgently and I heard her gasp.

"She'll get used to it," one of the other women said, "She'll have eighteen strokes of the cane from each of us tomorrow. That's nothing to what she'll get later. I'm going to put your name in the list for justices' night, Kim! I'll enjoy seeing those pretty young bottom-cheeks bare under the hangman's lash!"

You may be sure that this did little to reassure the girl. Yet the scene and the mood soon turned to seductive masturbation. The woman lathered her fingers and smoothed the whispering soapiness over Kim's rear cheeks and down her thighs. Then the hands came up between the thighs, fondling and squeezing the most intimate folds of feminine flesh. Kim had no idea that I was watching her, of course. When she twisted her face round towards the woman, I was able to study the girl's expression from no more than six feet away!

There was self-doubt and indecision in her intense dark eyes. The line of her mouth brooded uncertainly. I saw her thighs quiver and tense spasmodically on the intrusive fingers. The woman was giving Kim a good time and there was nothing the girl could do about it. I looked forward eagerly to seeing the woman bring Kim off on her fingers and hoped that she would enforce it.

The cheeks of Kim's backside, which were to be caned pitilessly by the same woman the next day, were now lovingly soaped by her. The pretext of cleanliness excused what followed. For several minutes the soapy fingers trilled up and down, deep in Kim Roberts's ass-crack. Indeed, the woman made Kim have two or three inches of soapy finger in the rude little tightness of her rear blowhole! Kim's wide dark eyes blazed with fury at this and her face burnt as she twisted her dark hair this way and that.

At this the eagerness of the women increased. Kim's shapely backside had ten or fifteen minutes of in-and-out exercise from the finger. You may be sure that the girl lay gasping and grinding her teeth furiously by the end of it!

Kim made a delectable sight, sprawling ass-upwards over the stool. The smooth pallor of her bottom and thighs glistened with soap. Next the woman took a perfume spray and added its fine rain to the soapy gloss. Then the nozzle was applied up and down between Kim's buttocks and under her legs. The woman slipped her fingers between the girl's thighs for a last time, squeezing gently and tickling, rubbing firmly and stroking. There could only be one outcome. They would bring Kim off, whether she wanted it or not. At last she emitted a series of abrupt rising cries. At the climax her eyes closed and her lips parted to draw breath more deeply. A moment later her young body shuddered voluptuously and those who watched her knew that Kim had come.

They did not rinse away the soap and perfume but merely took a towel and dried her down as she was. Then the woman who had brought her off stooped over and kissed the girl's neck and ears.

"You wicked little beauty, Kim! Did you come as easily with your boy-friend's hand in your pants? What a mercy it is that your lascivious desires are under our control here for the next three years. Did he make you come in your knickers, Kim? Did he? Ah, yes! The colour in your cheeks tells me that he did! We must be prudent tonight. Your hands shall be strapped to the bed-rail at your side. Otherwise there will be such playing with yourself in your present state mat you will get no sleep at all."

They led the girl away. Next morning it was a delightful nymph of sixteen, Tracey as they called her, who waited upon me. Whether Kim was otherwise engaged or whether her wrists had not yet been unstrapped from the rail of the bed I do not know.

Such was my introduction to the house of correction, as they called the reformatory in the neighbourhood. I had much still to learn. As yet I had seen nothing of the justices who ruled the entire county in matters of law and discipline. Or, let me be more precise, I was briefly introduced to Mr. Justice Bradford as he left the master after a conference on their business matters. As for the grand event of the season-Justices' Night-I could only guess at the dramas which might be enacted thereupon!

Because I set before you the truth and not some invention of the romancers, I can say freely that in the weeks that followed it was not the reformatory girls who provided most of my thoughts nor many of my pleasures. My memories of that time are chiefly of the succulent fare and fine vintages which graced the dinner-table of the master. I was also well satisfied to be accommodated with such luxury and such attention as I had never in my life known before. To cap it all, Mr. Miles informed me that it was the custom for the assistant-master, as well as the master, to be appointed to the bench of magistrates.

Can you imagine my thoughts? If that should befall me, I would then be a man as great in public life as my old master Mr. Wicks had been at my age! It was not too much to imagine myself, in middle years, as one of the nation's rulers and a gentleman of consequence.

CHAPTER THREE - Cheeky Sally

I know you will believe me when I say that I have not the least desire to slander or calumniate those benefactors who had found me my present comfortable occupation. Though I had entertained certain thoughts respecting the bold-faced sluttishness of Maggie and Sian-and had trifled a little with dark-eyed Kim-these dealings were no more than a man might ordinarily enjoy. Desires of such a kind will rise in the thoughts of any healthy fellow. It never does to brood on them. Within a few weeks, therefore, I was well content with my situation.

Yet I had much to learn about the worthy justices and the ways in which girls came to be inmates of the reformatory. So far, it was a matter about which Mr. Miles preferred not to speak to me. My first discovery was by pure chance and it is a scene which I treasure to this day.

A week or two after my introduction to the reformatory, I saw something more of Mr. Justice Bradford's moral zeal. It is of that I now speak. Mr. Bradford was a gentleman of extensive business interests in the area. Among these was an academy for young ladies at E--------, attended by many girls of good family from Germany and Scandinavia who were desirous of learning the English tongue.**

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**The secret enjoyments of this gentleman with his girls are described by him in Aphrodizzia, obtainable from the publisher of the present volume.

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I was ignorant of the gentleman's interest in such matters at the time, knowing him only as one who supplied wayward girls to the reformatory. As a magistrate, he was empowered to commit them there. How he did so, I could not tell.

Each week, I enjoyed one day's holiday from my tasks, to be spent as I pleased. As a rule I would travel to that select coastal resort to enjoy a stroll along the promenade and listen to the band playing or watch the fishing boats carry their summer passengers round the lighthouse and back. It was a most agreeable afternoon's excursion, to be rounded off with a walk along the pier and dinner at one of the fine white hotels which lined the front.

I had, as I say, no idea of Justice Bradford but what Mr. Miles had mentioned after our brief nod and shaking of hands. On the afternoon in question, I was strolling on the paved promenade, the yellow broom in flower above the rockeries and the sun glittering on the tide, which had covered the goodly stretch of sand below the shingle and was now just turning from its fullest.

The upper part of the beach between the wooden groins which divide it was pretty well occupied by family parties. There were richer folk from the grand hotels, poorer ones from the boarding houses at the far end of the sea-front, and a good number of trippers down from London for the day by train. On the warm turf of the down land above the town the sheep were grazing among bushes of yellow gorse. The band played and the spidery legs of the iron pier stalked out among the breakers and the shallows of the glittering summer sea.

I was walking past the pier gates towards the flatter end of the gardens and nothing was further from my mind just then than the reformatory and all its inmates. Just past the larger hotels there are some stone slipways which run down to the shingle beach and provide an easy access there. I leant upon the blue rails of the promenade above one of these slopes and stared out across the twinkling waters to the lightship which rode at its moorings close to the horizon.

I had not been there a minute before I became aware of the raucous noise which was disturbing the afternoon air.

There were two girls of fourteen and fifteen respectively-sisters I suppose-lying on the stone slipway in the sun. They were pretty creatures, I do not deny. But everything about their appearance and conduct was scandalous in such a place as this.

It was the younger girl, Sally, who was to be the heroine of the drama that afternoon! She had that cheeky prettiness which goes with high-boned cheeks, a pert little nose, and a mouth that laughs easily. Like most girls of the lower orders nowadays her fair hair was worn shorter as a matter of cleanliness. There was something of the female cherub's rounded coiffure with curls at the edges.

Had that been all, she might have adorned the slipway very becomingly. But the little tart had stripped herself most scandalously so that she wore the briefest and tightest bathing apparel in a grey and white check. I do not deny that her figure was alluring, though that is not to the point. Her smooth young back was lightly suntanned and the fine bone pattern showed charmingly. Her young thighs were straight and firm, though feminine enough already and lightly golden from the sun.

As for the rest, Sally's breasts were ripening nicely to judge from their shape in the swimming material. Her bottom had that roundness of tension and elasticity which makes for beauty in a girl of her age. Sally was a cheeky little thing but lithe and agile as a boy, her waist narrow and her belly flat and lightly muscled.

It was not her appearance alone which might have caused a scandal. Hers would not be the first bare shoulder-blades or legs to be seen upon a beach. No, it was her conduct which made her elders purse their lips and frown. Her laughter was shrill and derisive. So was that of her elder sister. Sally was recounting certain incidents of slum life at home, how she had "fucking told" one person this and "fucking well told" another that. I am no prude, I assure you, but I find public coarseness of this kind deeply offensive. How many gentle spirits might have been wounded by Sally's adolescent vulgarity?

Nor was that all. As I looked down at the two girls, standing as I did at the rail above the slipway, they struck a match and without a blush began to puff at cigarettes! Whether a grown woman ought ever to smoke in public is a matter of debate. To see Sally acting the part of a vamp in this manner was beyond tolerating.

It was a situation too often endured nowadays. A gross breach of public decorum occurs and yet those who are most offended by it are reluctant to act. It is not pleasant to have a summer afternoon turned into a slanging match with such a little whore as Sally. For that is what it would have meant.

Some of the older men and women glanced sternly in the direction of the two girls. Others affected not to hear what passed between them. The elder sister, who but for the difference in age might have been Sally's twin, was a more lumpish creature. True she was more decently dressed in her skirt and blouse. Yet she emitted a burst of lewd enjoyment at every offensive observation that Sally uttered.

I will confess privately that I was intrigued by the situation. Would the bourgeoisie unite against the outrage which was offered by these two sisters of the slums? Or would paterfamilias and his womenfolk turn a deaf ear and sit it out? I believe they would have sat it out, for fear of attracting a volley of abuse from the pair of little tarts if they should endeavor to reprimand them. However righteous the cause may be, it is not pleasant to be slanged as a "miserable old bastard" by a girl of fourteen in sight and hearing of a hundred people on a beach!

I observed a gentleman standing alone at the rail, dressed elegantly enough in light summer suiting and a boater. He was a substantial man and he carried one of these neat modem cameras which may be used with great ease. I am no expert in such matters, but it seemed to me the sort of device which would take shot after shot of any object which its owner chose.

Sally sat up, still chattering to her companion, and opened her knees a little to lay her hands comfortingly on the soft inner surfaces of her own thighs. I heard a click and saw that the gentleman with the camera was holding it with the lens uncapped, pointing in the girl's direction. He had not betrayed himself by raising it and looking through the lens. All the same, there was no doubt that he was taking photographs of cheeky young Sally!

A good many admirers assemble such collections of bathing beauties without the girls themselves perhaps having the least idea that the pictures have been made. This amateur now walked casually to the top of the slipway, standing a few feet from Sally and pretending to stare out to sea, like stout Cortes upon the Pacific. But he was holding the camera low down, in a furtive manner. Its uncapped lens faced the girl. Sally just then leant forward with the prettiest of smiles to confide to her sister. "So she says to me-and I fucking says to her...." You may imagine the back-street vulgarities easily enough. I saw his fingers move. The shutter winked once, twice, thrice, four times. Each time it took a full-plate portrait of Sally, smiling and talking.

I was greatly intrigued by his conduct and would not have budged for the world! He stayed down on to the shingle, so that the girls were now above him on the slipway, level with his shoulders. They had their backs to him and, as if no one else could see him, he raised the camera and took several photographs of them from about six feet away. True, there were no faces this time. Yet the cheeky imp who was causing all the trouble presented a bare and sun-golden back of the slimmest and neatest kind-while the bathing material shaped the taut agile young cheeks of Sally's bottom. I do not think for all the absence of a facial view, he would find these photographs tedious to mull over!

Just then, Sally and a boy from another group of these trippers left the older girl and went down together to the water. The gentleman could not very well follow them into the shallows, dressed as he was. However, camera in hand, he wandered up and down, pretending to take a sea view as he watched them.

Sally was an active and graceful youngster, as her conduct in the water showed. She did not go in very deep. Yet she stood in the shallows and practiced her diving most elegantly. From a standing position, she would dive forward and down in a sort of aquatic somersault. It was charming to see how, when her head and shoulders disappeared, the taut-cheeked seat of Sally's swimming-pants would break the surface, streaming wet like the pelt of a pretty young seal.

The man with the camera did not smile as others might have done. It seemed that his lips grew tight with moral zeal at this provoking display of the tightly and wetly clad cheeks of Sally's fourteen-year-old bottom.

I had as yet no idea of his purpose. As if tired of waiting for the little imp to come out of the water, he walked back and resumed his place at the promenade-rail. He never took his eyes off her, however, even at that distance. When the girl emerged from the sea at last and walked back to the slipway, he raised the camera and looked through its eyepiece. To those who watched him, he seemed merely to be forming a photographic view somewhere out to sea. As one watched more carefully, however, it was clear that he was aiming it at the wet sleek figure of Sally. Indeed, I think he was now using some device which would enable him to take an enlarged picture of her.

Can you guess what he was doing? I could not. If you suppose he was merely photographing the little bitch for his private collection, you are quite wrong. Sally, her wet hair darkened by the water and hanging in disarray round her head, stooped for a towel. As she did so, he swung the camera round so that he had her in view-a magnified rear view, by the way.

Was it some mania, I wondered? Positively it was not. The girl bent over, her pretty cherub tresses now well-soused and the water glistening on the light gold of her slim and straight young back, as well as down the firm and agile shape of her adolescent legs. Let us have no hypocrisy about it. To see her bending like that, the seat of the thin swimming suit wet-tight, so that each of her buttocks was separately shaped, would put ideas into the minds of most men. A moment's fondling or a playful smack or two is the passing tribute many a gentleman might choose to pay.

But not the tight-lipped admirer with a camera. The shutter clicked several times, immortalizing the tautly rounded cheeks of Sally's shapely ass in the wet swimwear. One could see that he dreamt of the cruelest prison birch-rod and of a soundproof vault where stripping and strapping down of such girls was commonplace. The pert young cheeks of Sally's bottom would not be fit for sitting on for a week after he had finished with her in such a place. Not knowing more about him-how I misjudged him!-I thought he might even be a libertine of extreme tastes. There are sinister dens of demise, far from English soil, to which such girls as this are abducted. They are patronized by men of cruel and extreme lusts. There is always a most sinister room, equipped with objects of discipline and impalement. Such a man would have paid highly to take Sally Fenton in there and have her strapped naked over the trestle. A night would pass, and then the following day, and then the next night. At last the man would come out alone. After that, as a matter of prudence, cheeky young Sally would not have been spoken of again.

None but an innocent believes that such crimes are not committed. Happily, in the present case, my fears were unfounded. Yet the girl herself glanced up from the slipway once or twice, as if aware of his interest in her. Did she know he was photographing her? Who can say. Yet the youngster suddenly turned to face us, naked but for her scandalously inadequate swimming costume and one towel draped over her wrist. Hands on hips like a fishwife, slim shoulders and firmly muscled young belly glistening wet and golden-tanned, she looked up. She stood slack-hipped, one knee bent, like a pavement whore but with the prettiest smile illuminating her impudent little face.

"Go on!" she taunted him, "Take a picture of us, then!"

It is true that he smiled in response to her brazen invitation but it was not a smile of the kind which most girls would have wished to receive. It had about it an air of the triumphant and the vindictive. But why should that be? There are, to be sure, girls who would blush at the thought that photographs taken when they were half-naked would be privately enjoyed by the stranger who had taken them. Sally was not one of these genteel young ladies who blushed so easily. How, then, had he triumphed over her by compiling such a photographic record?

Far from drawing away when she challenged him in this manner, he lifted the camera once more and Sally stood there-a figure of pure adolescent bravado-while he photographed her. Her elder sister rolled on to her side with a peal of mock terror and hid her face from the camera. Sally chided her, turning and saying something about the respectable photographer-something less than flattering.

Do you suppose he was daunted by this? Not the least! He now walked to the slipway, where the two girls were, and began to talk to them. It is amazing how their impudence and self-assurance seemed to vanish at his approach. The elder girl would not talk to him at all. Sally's young face seemed more pensive and its prettiness gave way to apprehension.

But the man smiled as he spoke to them. He was certainly not chiding them in any way. Though Sally looked tense and reluctant, he persuaded her to sit down on the slipway, her legs and thighs bare, her back and shoulders also, the first soft weight of her breasts filling the wet material which covered them. Alas, it would never make a portrait for the Royal Academy. The girl's face was not all tension and strain as she sat reluctantly to have her image made. But by his age and air of authority he made her submit.

You think him a libertine? You are quite wrong. He was a moralist and one of the most inflexible. After he had finished with the younger girl, the two sisters began to gather up their belongings and to leave the slipway. It was then that I saw the gentleman move away at great speed. From the direction of the pier, two uniformed policemen were walking this way. Perhaps they had been called there to deal with the breach of the peace created by the two girls. More likely, someone had noticed the strange antics of the photographer.

You imagine him quailing at the sight of the law-turning and making off in the opposite direction? Quite the contrary. He walked straight up to the two officers. And you never saw such saluting as they greeted him with! One of them, the senior of the pair, raised his fingers to his helmet brim with such rapid regularity that you might have thought him turning on clockwork.

Do you begin to see why I have preserved this chapter from the annals of my life? The most remarkable denouement-the thing I had never expected-now took place. The younger constable, who was less preoccupied by saluting than his companion, turned and waved his arm. At once two more uniformed men appeared from behind a shelter. It was at that moment, when the gentleman with the camera removed his boater to mop his brow, that I knew him as Mr. Justice Bradford!

He was the only member of the bench whom I had as yet seen but I knew him at a glance. I supposed, as proved to be the case, that the four policeman were his official guard by which he enforced decency and decorum upon the promenade of that fair town.

You will not need me to tell you mat the four uniformed men strode forward and confronted the two girls who had just left the beach and were making for the shelter of the streets. Each of the little minxes was seized by a pair of constables, one at either arm, and they were marched off towards the town with Mr. Bradford leading the way.

I know you will understand that I was bound to take this opportunity of ingratiating myself with a man of such magisterial influence as Mr. Bradford. I hurried forward, begging pardon for the intrusion, and explained that I was the new under-master of the reformatory, that I had seen all that passed and wished only to be of whatever assistance I could.

"You shall swear, sir!" said Mr. Bradford, most peremptory, "You shall be evidence."

I did not realise that he meant to convene a hearing at once. You see, I knew little of how such things were done.

A justice of his standing may hear a case anywhere-in his own parlour if need be. A court-house is more usual but it is not essential. Only think-is the law of England to cease because a court-house is burnt down?

The delight of the respectable families on the beach at what had happened is almost past description. There was chortling and snorting and rubbing of the hands with glee as they assured one another that Sally's pretty young buttocks would now be birched raw and then salted for her public misconduct.

It was no more than half an hour later when the court assembled. Where do you suppose it convened? In the study of Mr. Bradford's own premises! The senior constable acted as his clerk and there was a second justice upon the bench-or rather sitting behind the handsome desk. This was Mr. Snook, a rather wizened old fellow whose powers were no longer at their zenith. But he grinned and chuckled before the hearing, promising to "send the two little whores to reformatory discipline for five years at the least." It may seem a little strange that he arrived at this conclusion without hearing a word of the evidence. But really it is not surprising. A justice of Mr. Snook's experience gets, as they say, the feel of a case without hearing it.

The two sisters were brought before us. The only blemish on the happiness of the two justices was the discovery that Sally's elder sister had been committed to another reformatory six months before but had absconded on the way. The master of that institution had a prior claim upon her. Mr. Snook uttered a shrill cry of impatience and disappointment at this but he was the more implacable in dealing with Sally.

While the court assembled, the photographs were printed and presented as evidence of the outrageous display which pretty Sally had offered to the public view. Mr. Bradford had no need to be a witness with such undeniable proof of Sally's public indecency as the pictures showed. When asked, the girl herself was bound to admit it. How could she do otherwise? Two of the uniformed officers, who must have stood nearer to the rail and the slipway than I supposed, then gave evidence of "language uttered by the defendant such as might cause a breach of the peace." It was all double-Dutch to Sally, who knew no more of the English law than the glimpse of a policeman on his beat.

Her elder sister was removed to the lock-up to be conveyed back to her original reformatory master and taste his vengeance. Sally alone stood before the two justices. They had assured her throughout that they proposed to find her guilty of several offences against public decency-and as being beyond the control of her parents, if she had any, Sally stood there in her damp and scanty bathing costume. They had convened the court with such haste that she had been given no chance to dress! They licked their lips at the sight of her smooth bare shoulders and her flat young belly, the breast halter of her costume clinging so that pretty Sally's cute little tit-nipples showed easily.

It was time to pronounce sentence upon her, which fell to old Mr. Snook as the senior member of the bench who was present.

"Sally Fenton!" Mr. Snook favoured her with an old man's grin of promise, "Under the Reformatory Act as elucidated for the bench in Mr. Justice Stephen's Digest of the English Law, Article 21, I am now empowered to send you to reformatory training for a period of not less than three and not more than five years for public indecency therein defined by Article 190...."

I daresay Sally's dismay was caused as much as anything by being in the power of men who talked language she could not possibly understand. Her tense and dismayed expression assured us that she saw behind the fine words a birch-rod prepared for her bare bottom! Mr. Snook came to his main thrust.

"You shall go to reformatory training under Mr. Miles and his wholesome regime for the next five years-until you are nineteen years of age. Remember, however, that I or any other justice may re-impose the sentence at any time. In that case your time will be doubled and you will remain under Mr. Miles' discipline until you are twenty-four! You would do well to see that from now on you endeavor to please us in whatever way we choose!"

I had always supposed some draconian powers might be exercised by justices over pretty girls but I had never witnessed such a scene before.

"You have an impudent little bottom, Sally Fenton!" Mr. Snook said, admiring it in the photographs, "Next justices' night you'll show it bare to the entire bench of magistrates. Thirty strokes with a prison birch across the bare cheeks of your ass, Sally. You insolent little slut!"

Once again he quoted chapter and verse from Justice Stephen and the law to show that it would be futile for young Sally to protest. With that, the two justices asked to be left alone with the girl.

Mr. Bradford got up and walked across to the senior police officer. I could not see precisely what followed but I heard the unmistakable chink of sovereigns passing from one hand to the other. A moment later, the senior man was instructing the junior to cover his uniform with a coat, walk to the jug-and-bottle entrance of the King's Arms tavern, and return with four foaming quart-pots of best dark ale.

Having dispatched the four officers of the law, the two justices seemed to think nothing of me. My reward, of course, was in doing my duty.

However, I had not been dismissed from attendance on the court. Perhaps my assistance would be needed in conveying Sally to the reformatory to begin the five years of her training there. I sat down in the next room, divided only from the two justices by a locked door. As the senior police officer left me there to join his colleagues with their quart pots in the kitchen, he spoke a word of advice.

"Sit quiet till they need you, Mr. Under-Master," he said softly, "You may hear unusual things spoke or done in the next room, but it is all in the cause of justice. Mr. Snook and Mr. Bradford may test you by pretending all sorts of things are happening. They mean to see if you are a man of discretion and honor or if you are one to blab and tell tales. You take my meaning, I hope!"

I was not sure that I did. However, he gave me a very significant look before he left me. It indicated that if I knew what was good for me I should do as I was told.

In the next two hours, before the van arrived to convey the pretty culprit to Mr. Miles, I heard some strange things indeed. At first it seemed that Mr. Bradford had withdrawn and that it was Mr. Snook alone who was with the delinquent.

"Come here to my chair, Sally! A pretty little criminal to be sure. Stand still! Can it be the first time a strange hand has stroked these slim young thighs and smoothed over that flat young belly? Quite still, you little teaser! Now, lean over me a little. Nice young buds, Sally! Has your boy-friend had them in his hand yet? I'm sure he has! Don't flinch away, you little witch. Let me feel those berries come up hard and eager!"

What should I do? Did they mean to test my discretion? If I burst into the room, would I find old Mr. Snook sitting there alone, talking to himself? In that case my reputation with the justices would be ruined.

"They have brought your other clothes, Sally," said Mr. Snook, "You shall have them taken to the reformatory. But not this item. I must have a pair of Sally Fenton's knickers in my collection. Must I not?"

The old man's preposterous conversation was beyond understanding.

"Face down over my knee, Sally. We must have the pants of your swimming suit off. I can't believe a young scamp of your kind has never been undressed by an admirer before! A long caress between your legs! Lie still, you young wanton! You play fast and loose with yourself quite often, don't you, Sally? Even the photographs show how you like to press your hands between your legs. In full public view!"

A silence followed. His next question had a harder edge.

"When did you last misbehave, Sally Fenton?"

There was a murmur too muffled for me to make out. But it was her, no doubt of it! So she was in there! And how could I burst in at this moment without being accused of complicity for not having interrupted before?

"And now that pretty young bottom, Sally. Such firm and smooth young cheeks! Don't tense, you little villain! It won't be the last time you have them parted for a peep or two. Ah, the lads of your own kind are too unadventurous to insist on a proper look. Now a finger touched to your rude little arsehole, Sally Fenton! I'd like to be there when they use the little squirt to discipline you. I'll make sure you get plenty of that, Sally!"

There was a pause. Then the old man spoke again.

"Now, kneel between my legs, Sally. No, don't pull your pants up yet. I'm certain the street boys must have shown you something like this before! Let's see you pretend to be a greedy little girl with a toffee apple.... No. Sally? Lips pressed tight and face turned away? I think I shall add those extra five years to your time in the reformatory. The paper is on the desk. I can sign it now....Ah, that brings you to your senses! Mmmmmm! Do it prettily, Sally! Stroke yourself at the same time....A first taste of gruel, Sally.

... Ah!... Such an unlady-like sound from your throat! We do not permit refusals here, Sally.... Ah, reason prevails I see! Exquisite...."

In the light of the scandals which were to come, perhaps I should have taken action of some kind. As it was, I reasoned that if the four police officers quaffed their ale in the kitchen unconcerned, it was hardly my job to do their work for them. I delayed too long.

The time came presently when Sally was to be conveyed to Mr. Miles' house of correction. It was convenient that I should ride in the front of the van and that the pretty prisoner should be in the rear compartment, where Mr. Bradford offered to keep observation upon her.

And so it transpired. The rear door was opened briefly again before starting, to hand Mr. Bradford the key which locked it on the inside. He had not expected this. I just saw that he had Sally's discarded swimming pants in one hand and a thin strap in the other. This "tanner" was two feet long, a couple of inches broad, and divided into tails at one end.

I heard his gruff voice, which seemed to say, "Lie ass-upwards over the bench, Sally, you little bitch!"

It was hard to detect much during the journey to the reformatory, which took almost an hour. Yet the constant and powerful smack of leather on bare rounded skin could not be entirely accounted for by the van-driver's use of the whip on his horses. A score of times I could have sworn I heard Sally Fenton scream, had it not been more likely that it was the wind in the trees. I confess, however, it was a calm summer night.

In due time, we passed under the old familiar archway which guarded the reformatory and came to a halt in the first courtyard. A message had been sent to the master, who was waiting to receive us. Sally was helped down, indeed, the girl seemed to have a little difficulty in clambering down unaided. Her prettiness was no longer that of a cheeky imp but the more pathetic display of a girl feeling very sorry for herself. Her blue eyes overflowed mournfully, moistening her pretty cheeks, and she gulped down her self-pity. It was still light enough to notice that bright scarlet swathes appeared across the backs of her legs and round her flanks. She was wearing her tight little pants again. However, the direction of the scarlet swathes left no doubt that under the seat of her knickers, the lithe round cheeks of Sally's bottom must have been smarting and red as fire.

Two matrons led her away, the girl walking a little awkwardly after her punishment. Mr. Bradford later reassured me that she would be well taken care of now. It was to be kept a secret from her until the time came, but he and Mr. Snook had already signed the paper which would reimpose and thereby double her time in the master's diligent care.

I do not claim an adventure for every day of my life in that place. The truth is that weeks might pass and nothing out of the ordinary would occur. Then would come an event so astonishing that once it was over I could scarcely believe it had happened. Yet the newspapers assure me otherwise.

It is to one such that I must turn now. Let me say that it is not a scene for the timid or the soft-hearted. It shows man as he is, not as we would have him be. It reveals the naked truth of reformatory girls under judicial discipline.

CHAPTER FOUR - Justices' Night

"Be sure you are at hand on Friday evening," said Master Miles to me one morning, "It is justices' night, when several of the magistrates attend here to dine and see discipline inflicted. It is a matter of courtesy that we should oblige them."

I had no intention of showing other than courtesy to the wealthy and influential patrons who had found me my present employment. Apart from that, I was mightily curious about the famous institution of justices' night in a girls' reformatory. There were several girls who had lately joined the fourth and fifth forms of the reformatory school. I could not help hoping that some of them would be under discipline that night. I supposed that Sally Fenton would be dealt with for her scandalous conduct by the seaside. Other than that I had, as yet, no idea of what was intended.

The day arrived and the master's dining-room was prepared for his guests. I recall that the fine summer evening was still light as they were received in the parlour and treated to Dry Sack or German hock. They were, for the most part, middle-aged or elderly gentlemen of worthy appearance, regarded as pillars of respectability in the county.

You may be sure that they were universally praised for their resolve in committing young sluts and trollops to the reformatory. Indeed, the most respectable ladies of the county and its society were among their surest admirers. If it was rumored that certain delinquent girls had their knickers taken down privately and their bare backsides tanned within the forbidding walls, our respectable ladies thought none the worse of the master for that.

As we went into dinner, where the table was laid with silver and cut-glass upon the purest linen, I was able to take a view of these dignitaries. Mr. Snook was the eldest, rather piping and shrill in his dotage. Next to him sat the stout and burly figure of Mr. Bowler, the famous saddler who supplies many of our mounted regiments. There was young Lord Frederick Cyr with his fair hair and limp moustaches. Who the others were, I did not know as yet.

The iced wine and strawberries with which we concluded dinner were scarcely enough to cool the excitement of the upright justices at the thought of the fun they were going to have with the delinquent girls. Brandy and cigars were handed round. Soon after nine o'clock with the last light of the summer evening fading from the western sky, we walked casually towards the scene of discipline, while fragrant Havana smoke drifted from the fine cheroots.

What I must describe now is a custom which will seem strange and disturbing to anyone not acquainted with English justice. It is a scene which includes lewdness and oddity. Yet if I am true to my task in keeping a faithful record, I cannot pass over it. There is no other nation on earth, I believe, where disciplinary zeal is stronger than in England-or where it is tinged with so fine a hue of moral satisfaction and private excitement.

The room in which Master Miles thrashed the girls on these occasions was a cavernous place of some size. It was prudently located out of sight and earshot of the main buildings.

The interior is lit by gas, flaring harshly on whitewashed walls. The windows are narrow, set very high up and closely barred. The paving of the floor is flagstones and the birching block, slightly raised on a wooden surround, is securely bolted down at the room's centre. There is also a tall stool and a step-ladder, each equipped to hold a wayward nymph bending over it. To one side of die room stands a whipping horse. This resembles a padded leather vaulting-buck, to take a proper young woman lying astride it. I saw that there was also a padded bench. A youngster like Jane Mitchener or Sally Fenton would be made to he over it on her belly and present her bare bottom-cheeks to the spanking-strap.

On a narrow mahogany table is an assortment of such spanking-straps, birch-rods, canes, and whips of every sort. Among these, stands a bottle of pungent smelling-salts. If the head of a petite young wife like Jacqueline Grant or a cheeky little imp like Sally Fenton should droop during punishment, one of the master's assistants will hold the pungent aroma under her nose. By this means the culprit may be speedily restored and her punishment will be continued with little interruption. A randy young wriggler like Jackie Grant will be taken far beyond the ordinary limits of a judicial whipping by such means. Sally Fenton, Jane Mitchener and the other pert young fourth-form girls may have their bare bottom-cheeks skinned to an extent which might otherwise be questioned even in the case of a sexually mature young woman.

Such are the possibilities which the legal system offers, through its provisions for strapping down young wantons and curing a temporary swoon.

Several cushioned chairs had been set out a couple of yards to the rear of the block for the portly magistrates. Their bill of fare was to be varied and exciting that evening. It ranged from pretty Sally with her curls and impudence to auburn-haired little Madam Jacqueline who was almost ten years her elder and had tasted the pleasures of the bridal couch!

The punishments started at nine in the evening and would last all night, if that should prove necessary to complete them. A girl who had committed two offences would be thrashed twice during these hours. If she had committed three, she would be dealt with thrice. At each appearance she was treated as severely as the just time. The fault was hers for her repeated offences!

You may be sure that none of the justices favoured leniency, even when the discipline was to be of repeated severity. They took their places and cast their eyes upon the board which listed the names and misdeeds of the girls to be thrashed. I have a copy of it before me as I write.

I would be the first to admit that the strictest magistrate is also a man of normal masculine passions and eager sexual feelings. Were it not so, how should Old England breed her future leaders from such noble loins? The ruler of an estate, who sits as a justice, will stiffen in excitement to see a graceful sixteen-year-old nymph like Tracey Hope laid bare and strapped down, bending over a tall stool. Many a grey-haired member will stir as Tracey's demure young buttocks are stretched apart by this posture and her strained thighs offer a glimpse of lightly-haired femininity.

Yet this is no reason to condemn the system. It is advisable that a willowy nymph like Tracey or a young fifth-form siren like Michele Page should take her knickers down and receive the master's cane. In the reformatory, deprived of boys of their own age, such girls become fretful and heated, nervous and prone to outbursts. A little undressing and thrashing is far and away the best cure for such frustrations in a teenage nymph or schoolgirl tomboy. Better by far than that she should be at liberty to ride astride some young ruffian's erection and spawn a brood of infants to be supported at the cost of the parish. One cannot sufficiently commend punishment lessons at regular intervals to cure Tracey Hope of wanting boy-friends or curbing a randy schoolgirl of fifteen like Michele. How wise the law of England is to insist that the sentence passed on such seductive little witches is at least four or five years-and that ample canes and birch-rods shall be provided!

Master Miles removed his black jacket and rolled up his sleeves. Choosing a bamboo cane that was wickedly long and supple, he went to the far door and called in a stentorian voice.

"ELAINE COX!"

The girl who entered, a matron holding her by either arm, was a sturdy adolescent rebel dressed in school uniform. Elaine had first been consigned to the reformatory when she was thirteen. She would remain for five more years.

Elaine Cox was notorious as a shouting, striding youngster, defiantly tossing back the lank fair hair which was combed from its central parting to lie loose upon her shoulders. The broad oval of her face, with its slum-child's features of narrowed eyes and thin mouth, was a portrait of snub-nosed insolence. She was dressed in her white school blouse and striped tie, her grey pleated skirt worn brazenly short, as if to flaunt the pallor of her robust young thighs and to suggest the sturdiness of her adolescent hips.

She stood before the justices, her contempt for them clearly shown in the narrow slant of her dark eyes with their fleck of green.

"Remove your skirt for your punishment lesson, Elaine Cox!" the first matron said sharply.

With a look of indifference, die youngster undid the short pleated skirt, let it fall, and stepped out of it. Without waiting for the next command, she turned her back on the magistrates and knelt down over the block. Elaine Cox's school knickers were tight pants of white elasticized cotton. She knelt on all fours over the block, craning round with snub-nosed defiance. Her full-cheeked backside was broadened and even fattened by her posture. In her stretched cotton pants, Elaine appeared quite a big-bottomed girl for her age.

The master strapped her wrists to rings in the forward corners of the block. He pinioned her bare pale thighs with another strap just above her knees. Next he tied her ankles to prevent Elaine kicking out during punishment. Finally, he tightened a wide leather restraining-belt round her waist, pressing her young belly down hard on the block. This hollowing down of her waist caused Elaine Cox's fifteen-year-old ass to swell fuller and broader for the bamboo cane.

It was to be expected that the pulse of each justice quickened and each magisterial penis stirred with excitement. I regretted I had not witnessed the girl's earlier punishments. Master Miles first used the birch on the bare pale cheeks of Elaine Cox's thirteen-year-old bottom when she was still walking to school in white knee-socks! Though it was now in the past, I hoped that he had used extreme severity on her then with the birch-rod switches, not sparing her bare ass, the rear of her thighs or even the backs of her young knees!

Now he took the elastic waistband of Elaine's school knickers and stripped them down to her knees. He did this slowly and with much fingering to remind her of her situation! Being a lusty man and fond of a good feel, he greatly enjoyed himself with a tomboy like Elaine. It would be absurd to begrudge him this amusement. A score of street boys of her own age had had their hands inside Elaine Cox's knickers at rowdy parties or behind a convenient wall after school!

While Elaine was having her pants taken down, the cotton caught a little under her legs and between her buttocks. She had been wearing the same pair of knickers all day and no doubt her warmth and humidity caused them to twist and catch somewhat. Even a teacher who was going to thrash her could not have resisted the pretext which this offered him. Nor did Master Miles! In order to free the cotton briefs, his fingers pried between her legs and in her feminine slit! How she gasped and cursed! His hands wandered over her smoothly pale thighs and buttocks. Then his fingers played lewdly between the tomboy cheeks of Elaine Cox's bottom!

Furious at this, the youngster tossed back her lank fair hair and craned round at him with a shout of anger.

"You dirty filthy thing!" she yelled. Slum-child though she was, Elaine was the first to protest in this way against any threat to the "purity" of herself or her sisters. The chairman of the justices smiled at the absurdity.

"You're a dirty little scrubber, Elaine Cox!" he chortled, "Next week I'll visit you myself and punish your insolence. I'll give you thirty strokes with the prison birch across the bare cheeks of that fat young ass to cure you of impudence. And I'll have your big sister over the study sofa. I always punish a pair of sisters for the offence of either! You'll both remember your lesson all the better for watching each other get it!"

Mr. Bowler whispered to me that Elaine's big sister, a plump slut of eighteen or nineteen, had had the whip across her fat bare bottom last month. Old Mr. Snook had done it to her privately. He had put the girl ass-upwards over the study sofa and skinned her fat bum-cheeks finely with a woven lash of snakeskin. Elaine had been put to work in the next room, deliberately, so that she should be made to hear her older sister getting it! Perhaps the memory of Pauline's screams inspired the youngster's present fury and defiance.

The youngster still wore her white school blouse and striped tie. The master stooped and tucked the tail of the blouse well up above her hips, so that the full pale cheeks of Elaine Cox's fifteen-year-old bottom were properly bare.

In the privacy of the reformatory punishment-room, the magistrates had no need to conceal their enjoyment. Elaine was strapped down in a posture which offered a glimpse of light-haired folds of intimate feminine flesh between the rear of her somewhat heavy adolescent thighs. Drawn tightly forward over the block, her sturdy young buttocks were broadened and drawn apart a little. It was part of her punishment that she was made to show her full rear view. These disciplinarians relished a close look between the pale and fatly presented cheeks of Elaine Cox's schoolgirl bottom!

For the first time the anger faltered in the broad oval of her snub-nosed face. She craned round and watched them. Each of the plump middle-aged magistrates was leaning forward, his tongue running eagerly on his lips as he peered into the forbidden valley between the bare cheeks of Elaine's teenage backside. A sensible man does not make romantic love to young ruffians of her sort. Elaine Cox's ass was the only part of her which interested them just then-and they let her know it!

Those who are innocent in the matter of England's ruling class may be surprised that the justices enjoyed themselves with a fifteen-year-old reformatory girl in this way. It was Mr. Bowler who subsequently expressed to me their wisdom in the matter.

A young slut like Elaine Cox, he said, must be enjoyed when she is fourteen or fifteen. Otherwise she will not be enjoyed at all by a man of discriminating taste. She would never be a beauty, as a teenage nymph like Tracey might become despite Tracey's common birth. In the years of her adolescence, however, Elaine had the exciting challenge of an impudent tomboy. There were men of the finest breeding who relished an afternoon playing the part of a disciplinarian teacher with such a girl.

To take Elaine into the study or the tiled closet and teach her a bare-bottomed obedience lesson with the cane or the whip, while she was still a fifth-form schoolgirl, was the only use which a man of taste would make of her. Mr. Bowler spoke very openly about this. While the youngster was strapped down awaiting her tanning, he said, a man of mature years would make Elaine Cox have an hour or so of his tool. He would give her an ample helping of it now, knowing that in a few years more such a girl would be a fattened drab.

By then some lout of her own class would give her a swollen belly or two. In no time at all, Elaine would be a plain slattern with a train of bastards clutching at her skirts. Before that happened, he said significantly, it would be better for the law to convict her of felony-to put a judicial noose round her throat and dangle Elaine Cox from the gaol house beam.

The other justices smiled quietly and gave their consent to these views when Mr. Bowler aired them. Mr. Snook being an elderly gentleman, his amorous powers have somewhat waned. Yet he too agreed. To warm his memories, he keeps a collection of girls' underpants removed from them on justices' nights and other such occasions. Among his treasures is a pair of white briefs in stretched cotton-Elaine Cox's school knickers. The youngster had worn these a day or two before having them taken down by the master who was going to cane her. In the privacy of his study, Mr. Snook will spend an evening browsing over such mementoes, examining them and smiling at the memories they revive. Such is the devotion to public duty which the old gentleman shows.

No wonder then that the portly magistrates closely scrutinized the rear view which die youngster presented to them as she lay securely fastened on all fours over the block. The eyes of the learned justices wandered over the pallid weight of her bare teenage thighs, which were strapped tightly together just above her knees. And how could they resist gazing at the pale double swell of the girl's impudent bottomcheeks and prying between diem?

All this time, Elaine herself, with her lank fair hair thrown back, watched the magistrates over her shoulder. The broad oval of her slum-child's snub-nosed face was suffused with contempt as she saw how they inspected her rear view. But the justices were used to such ill-mannered girls. They looked up from time to time and met the anger in her eyes with knowing smiles. Then they would let her see how they leant forward again. Their smiles directed her eyes to watch their own as they peered at the lightly haired folds of intimate feminine flesh peeping between her thighs-and as they closely inspected the exposed rudeness of Elaine Cox's schoolgirl arsehole! Then they sat back and smiled at her again.

"Seen all you want?" Elaine shouted at them in sarcastic fury.

The master himself smiled at this outburst. He flexed the supple bamboo and cut the air once or twice with a trial swish. Despite her adolescent rebellion, Elaine's broadened buttocks tightened with instinctive fright at the menace of me sharp sound. She kept her eyes on the master as he taunted her.

"We're going to make you ask for your punishment tonight, Elaine. You'll call out the number of each stroke before I give it to you. If you refuse or if you miss the count, you'll get the stroke just the same. But it won't go towards the total of your punishment."

The youngster gasped and cursed. She pulled vainly at the stout restraining straps in her fury and panic, but the pale fattened rear cheeks of this fifth-form tomboy offered a perfect target for the bamboo. The master grinned at her anger and then his voice grew stern. He boomed out for the justices to hear.

"THIRTY-SIX STROKES OF THE PRISON CANE ACROSS YOUR BARE BOTTOM, ELAINE COX! CALL FOR THE FIRST!"

To the delight of the magistrates, Elaine was spurred to greater anger by the humiliation of having to ask for a thrashing from the man she loathed and despised. She called Mr. Miles a filthy old bastard and refused to obey the order! Her impudence and her defiance of a command, lawfully given, now entitled him to deal with her in the severest manner.

What a curiosity this youngster was! Elaine Cox had first had her bare bottom spanked and birched when she was twelve or thirteen. She knew the torture she was inviting by her rebellion. She knew also how they would treat the bare backside of a strapping young fifth-form girl. They would cane her and cane her until the most vivid weals had been raised. Then they would continue the obedience lesson by thrashing her young ass-across those swollen prints of the bamboo until she was frantic in her anguish. Elaine must have known they would make her scream, as she had heard her big sister do under Mr. Snook's pony-lash. And still they would continue to cane her young backside and legs until she would shriek her submission, promising to do anything they wanted. Anything at all!

She must have known all this before she defied us. When the justices had a bare-bottomed tomboy of fifteen like Elaine Cox over the block they were absolutely pitiless. Indeed, they looked keenly for pretexts to add strokes to her sentence. The girl knew from the start that sooner or later she would scream for the first counted stroke of her punishment. And only then, when she could bear no more, would the official caning begin! When she was frantic with the throbbing agony of the bamboo weals across her bare bottomcheeks, they would make her ask to be thrashed from the very beginning! Elaine must have guessed this from experience. It was as if the young rebel was deliberately adding to her punishment while she could still endure it, knowing mat later she would shriek the number of each stroke at the top of her voice, desperate not to miss the count.

Like the justices and the master, I was greatly looking forward to the discipline, as I gazed at the full pale cheeks of Elaine Cox's young backside. I was eager to see her caught in the predicament of not being able to bear the touch of a feather on her thrashed buttocks-and yet still having to count her official punishment from the very first stroke.

The master touched the cane lightly across her bare bum cheeks, aiming with great care.
"Thirty-six strokes of the bamboo across the fat young cheeks of your bare ass, Elaine Cox! Call for the first!"

Still she defied him and cursed us all! He raised the cane high above his right shoulder. The taunting smile vanished and his mouth tightened with vindictive pleasure. There was a pause and the justices held their breath in anticipation. Then his arm came down with flashing energy. The bamboo landed with an ear-splitting smack across the pale broadened cheeks of Elaine Cox's fifteen-year-old bottom!

The youngster caught her breath in a short cry at the ferocity of the smart. I saw that her strapped hands were clenched into fists as she struggled against the man whom she loathed. She twisted her face round, watching him, and gnawed compulsively at her lower lip in her growing apprehension. Her sturdy young buttocks tensed and squirmed, pressing together and then rounding out, as she tried to work away the lingering agony of the cane's impact. Where it had landed, a fine double-edged print of bamboo glowed aslant the swelling and writhing pallor of Elaine Cox's backside!

For all her defiance, Elaine's broadened schoolgirl buttocks tensed and shifted, as if the smooth curves of white skin crawled in anticipation of the next stroke. The master carefully measured the cane-wickedly low across her bottom-cheeks, as one hoped he would! He raised it again and slashed it down across the faint flesh-crease, dividing the cheeks of Elaine's young ass from her upper thighs. Urgently she controlled her cries, mewing through her pressed lips. There was a hint of desperation in the impudent face which she turned to us now. The justices met this with malicious smiles, to show her their private enjoyment of what was being done to her.

Mr. Bowler thought I could not see, as his eyes teasingly directed Elaine's gaze to the front of his trousers. While the youngster looked at his trouser-front, he drew the cloth tighter and there was dismay in her narrowed eyes. Mr. Bowler smiled as he showed this impudent fifth-form girl the shape of his penis, harder and heavier with the enjoyment of watching her thrashed.

Twice more the cane smacked agonizingly across the softer undercurve of her rear cheeks. The first pain of the impact did not diminish but swelled to a crescendo over several seconds. Mr. Miles naturally took pleasure in timing each stroke to land just as the torment of its predecessor reached a climax.

Elaine was soon gasping at the searching intensity of the bamboo's torture. The justices watched, enthralled by this battle of wills between the master and his rebellious schoolgirl. Between the strokes, the silence of anticipation was broken only by the creak of the block and the breathless squirming of the fifteen-year-old girl in the straps which held her down. Twice more the bamboo lashed diagonally across her bum-cheeks. Six weals, each a deepening red, now embossed her young hind-quarters. The master aimed a low stroke, catching her almost across the backs of her upper thighs. There was a jump of excitement among the onlookers as, for the first time, Elaine Cox screamed.

The bare whitewashed walls sharpened the girl's adolescent shrillness and gave a new edge of enthusiasm to the excitement of those who watched her. The justices leant forward a little, several of them licking their lips eagerly, taking a closer view. Elaine Cox's ass and hips surged as if in a dance of the lewdest sexual invitation! She tossed back her hair and craned round at us again. But now the broad oval of her snub-nosed face was a delightful study in consternation. The narrow eyes brimmed with tears and the thin mouth was stretched in a woeful self-pitying howl. The very utterance seemed paralyzed by the intensity of the pain which another lash of the bamboo inflicted across her bare teenage buttocks.

Drawing breath deeply at last, she howled at the magistrates-pleading to have the nine or ten uncounted strokes included in her punishment. Elaine sobbed out that her bottom smarted so that she could not bear another thirty-six strokes of the cane across it. The magistrates took a visible pleasure in refusing her such leniency.

"But I can't bear any more!" she cried in fright and indignation.

How often have those walls echoed such words from cheeky Sally Fenton at fourteen or a beautiful nymph of sixteen like Tracey Hope, from grown women like Jacqueline Grant! Mr. Bowler grinned.

"Get ass-upwards over the block, Elaine Cox, you dirty little scrubber! Don't presume to tell us what you can't bear. We'll make you bear it anyway!"

There were smiles and quiet laughter at this. The master caught the girl with another stroke, savagely low across her backside-and another, deliberately given across the rear of her thighs. Her pleading ended in a wild scream.

"Count the strokes, Elaine Cox!" smiled Mr. Bowler, "We know how to give a lesson in obedience to a little whore of your sort!"

The cane smacked across her young backside once more before she could obey them. And then Elaine Cox surrendered with a shriek that made our ears ring.

"ONE!"

It is impossible for those who have not experienced it to know the pleasure there is in imposing such obedience on an insolent and ruffianly girl like Elaine. There was a pause and an air of satisfaction among the justices before the thirty-six strokes began. The master teased the youngster by taking a long time in measuring the cane this way and that across die stripes already printed crimson upon her squirming backside. The other justices commanded her sharply while she writhed over the block and waited to be tanned.

"Elaine Cox! Get right over die block, you little slut! Show us your fat young backside properly while you're being thrashed! You weren't shy of walking home from school every day in the little grey skirt that shows your thighs and the seat of your knickers every time the wind blows!"

"Don't act bashful with us, Elaine Cox!" added Mr. Bowler. "We had your big sister over that block for the lash a few weeks ago. We all had a good look at her bare backside while she was whipped. You needn't think we'll let you hide anything that she showed us! Two fat young female arses in the same family look much the same."

It is no part of my intention to betray confidences. Yet the world guessed something of Mr. Bowler's private intentions towards the women of that family-a trio of sisters and a slattern of thirty-seven or thirty-eight who had encumbered society with them. There was to be collective taking down of their knickers and bending them in a row. By the time he had examined and chastised them, Mr. Bowler might have written a learned paper on die comparative shapes of the female backside in one family. To some moralists, his enthusiasm would have been the cause of misgiving, had it not all been done in the pursuit of virtue and correction. The law approves the whipping of such a woman and her daughters together-when the aim is to enforce a moral upon them.

After they had reprimanded Elaine a little more, the chastisement was resumed. With a whip-like savagery the supple cane smacked across the bottom-cheeks of this rebellious girl. The very walls sang with the sharpness of the impact. The impudent youngster cried out, wild and shrill. But she tried desperately not to miss the count, dreading those extra strokes that would earn her! But you may be sure that the master did not let her succeed in avoiding these extra whipsmacks of bamboo. He thrashed her sturdy tomboy bottom very quick and hard-and again before she could curb her scream!

"Two!" shrieked Elaine, and the bamboo lashed aslant the pallor of her strapping young schoolgirl buttocks, branding her with its fiery imprint, "Three!... Four!... Stop!... SHIT!... Pl-e-e-ase! Stop! Just for a moment! Oooooow!... NO!... OOOW!... Don't do it again yet!... NO! NO!... PL-E-A-S-E! OWWWW!... FIVE!... S-I-I-X!... OH, MY BOTTOM! MY BOTTOM!... NOT ACROSS MY LEGS!... AHHH!... SEVEN!... OOOW! . EIGHT!... OH, FUCK YOU!... OH, MY FUCKING ARSE!!, PLEASE DON'T!... NINE!... I CANT BEAR ANY MORE!... NOT LOW DOWN ON MY ARSE AGAIN! NO! NO! O-O-O-O-W!... LET ME GO!... PLEASE!... I CAN'T WAIT!!!... TEN!... NO!... NO!... PLEASE DON'T....N-O-O-O-O-O-O!!!!... MY ARSE!!... OH, MY ARSE!!!"

At every stroke her full and pale-fleshed hips rose while Elaine Cox's bottom-crack was compressed to a thin tight line, as if to contain the torment and her own unlady-like urges. The master and the justices were unmoved by the youngster's cry that her fifteen-year-old backside would blemish the dignity of the occasion unless they allowed her a respite. Discipline would soon be undermined if it could be interrupted by such threats or vulgarity. Judicial chastisements are an object lesson in the ways of feminine behaviour. It is intriguing to witness the extreme lewdness and vulgarity which the most disdainful young woman can be driven to employ! At twenty-five, she is at heart no different to a rude and immodest schoolgirl!

It was fortunate that Elaine was firmly held down by leather straps which were broad and stout. Had not her bare thighs and ankles been pinioned, the rebellious pupil would certainly have kicked out at her master as he corrected her with the cane. With each impact of the bamboo Elaine's pale teenage bottom-flesh jumped and quivered as if touched by an electric shock. She tried to expel the swelling torment of each whip-like smack by surging the sturdy pallor of her backside outwards. Fortunately, this made the soundly thrashed cheeks of her teenage ass a superb target, more fully and fatly presented.

In her present state Elaine would have been a teacher's delight! The slight adolescent heaviness of her hips and seat made her look quite a big-bottomed schoolgirl as she knelt over the block. The raised cane-stripes across her bare buttocks might have moved a few pedagogues to leniency. In the case of a big girl of fifteen, however, the bamboo weals across Elaine Cox's bare buttocks would have put some very cruel ideas into most scholastic minds! Among the prints of the cane, there was one low down upon the softer curve of her swelling and broadened young buttocks. It was a deeper and more vivid plum-color. The hue of it assured us how tender and smarting it must be. Any teacher who had endured Elaine's insolence in his classroom would have wanted to smarten her up across that stripe. And so did Mr. Miles. He measured the bamboo lightly across that deeper coloured brand. In her panic, the girl twisted her bare hips and contorted her robust but reddened rear cheeks. There was indignation as well as pleading in her voice. She turned her impudent young face round and yelled at her master.

"Don't tan me there! Not across there again! Not again! No! DON'T! DON'T DO IT THERE!" A wicked smile softened his stern face.

"Lie tighter over the block and stick your backside right out at the justices, Elaine Cox! That strapping young bottom of yours can take much more caning yet! I'll give you a dozen strokes across that welt, if I choose. And you'll he ass-upwards and take every one of them! I've always wanted to give your insolent young bum-cheeks a proper punishment lesson, Elaine. I shall enjoy making this one last a long time. I know you won't be able to bear it. That's why I shall give it to you-and why I'll enjoy myself doing it!"

He teased her a little longer, measuring the bamboo lightly upon the tender stripe. Then he raised the supple wand and lashed it down along the plum-coloured imprint. Elaine uttered a frenzied soprano shriek, her body taut with the searching anguish. Her toes curled and her hands were clenched until the fingernails bit into the palms. The weal that ran low across the youngster's sturdily broadened bottomcheeks was now deeper in colour and more dangerously swollen. But such a target was far too tempting to be ignored. The master touched the cane lightly across the throbbing stripe once more, taking careful aim. The full-cheeked behind of a fifth-form girl was irresistible.

Thrash! The slim bamboo smacked across the burning welt with an impact like a ringmaster's whip. Thrash! Thrash! Again and again he lashed her along that swollen stripe with savage energy. The walls rang with a peal of her adolescent screams. Presently the justices drew sharp breaths of delight at what they saw. A red line of punctuation dots welled up from the crimson bamboo-print and trickled down the surging cheeks of Elaine Cox's backside. To have a vulgar and rebellious young tomboy with her ass in such a predicament was profoundly exhilarating! Her obedience-training was now beginning!

Mr. Miles stood back. His tongue licked along the mischievous smile which seemed to pluck secretly at the severe line of his mouth.

Elaine felt the little trickles down her lower seat-cheeks, momentarily gathering in the flesh-crease under the weightier curves of her adolescent schoolgirl buttocks and then running down the backs of her thighs. Tossing back her lank fair hair, she twisted the broad oval of her face round to us, animated by a last defiant fury. In a wild outburst, Elaine Cox yelled, "MY ARSE! OH, MY ARSE!... YOU BASTARDS!... OH, YOU FUCKING BASTARDS.!"

I could only catch a few phrases of what the master said as he stooped and whispered teasingly in the girl's ear, his hand lying against her bare nip. You may be sure that his words caused a burst of laughter among the justices.

'I'll have the skin off that fat-cheeked young ass, Elaine Cox!... I'll teach you a lesson in manners, you impudent little bitch!... Must I silence your impudence?... Shall it be your own knickers, Elaine? Or a pair of Michele Page's!"

The moment of amusement was over. The mouths of the justices tightened and a vindictive gleam showed in their eyes. No wonder the youngster gave a gasp of fright as she met their gaze. Had I not been there, I believe they really might have made a wad of Elaine Cox's knickers to muzzle her defiance.

"You've counted nineteen strokes so far, Elaine," said Mr. Bowler calmly, "You chose not to count the other seventeen your master has given you-and so they will not be considered. Seventeen strokes of the cane still to be counted, you little bitch! Call for the next!"

"No!" she wailed. "Not yet! I'm not ready yet!"

How often do the walls of girls' schoolrooms and reformatory punishment-cells echo to such frantic appeals for delay! The cane smacked hard across Elaine's writhing and contorting buttocks, ending her protest with a shrill surrender.

"TWENTY!!"

By this time there were other eyes watching the scene. Behind the justices was a row of small barred windows set high in the blank wall. Neither the master nor the magistrates looked in that direction, though Elaine saw them every time that she craned round at us. A dozen lads of her own age, fugitives for the night from their own reform school, had shinned up the brick walls to perch on the outer ledges of these windows. To watch the girls having their knickers taken down in the punishment-room and their bare beauty chastised was a treat for these boys. As Elaine twisted her face round, they grinned at her knowingly. Each young scamp had unbuttoned at his window and smilingly showed her the fine young instrument in his hand, which he pumped for dear life in the excitement of watching her bare bottom caned.

The master and the justices had nothing to fear from these young masturbators. The boys knew that they would be separated from the girls and never given the chance of having fun with them. Each lad's own girl-friend whom he once spoke sweetly to while his hand played inside her knickers was now beyond his reach in the reformatory. Yet he was as eager as any magistrate to see and hear her over the block while the whip was used upon her naked charms! The more extreme her punishment, the better the young spark was pleased!

I was later to watch our graceful nymph of sixteen, Tracey Hope, strapped over the step-ladder. What dismay she showed in her fine blue eyes when she looked around and saw her own boy-friend at his window. The magistrates had put an end to their passionate fondling and cuddling by sending Tracey to one reformatory and the lad to another. Now he was excited as any of the justices at seeing the whip snaking and lashing across the elegant ovals of Tracey's rear cheeks or round the long graceful sweep of her young thighs.

At present the reform-school lads longed only for the girls' thrashings to last all night. The greater the humiliation of a fifth-form schoolgirl like Elaine, the more they enjoyed it. Just then, the master aimed the bamboo with consummate skill. He caught the sturdy slum-girl agonizingly aslant her bottom-cheeks with it. Unable to contain herself under the atrocious smart, Elaine Cox farted.
By her adolescent rudeness, the youngster brought smiles to the faces of the middle-aged magistrates which the wittiest compliment of the drawing-room could not equal. The lads at the windows met the consternation in Elaine's narrowed eyes with grins of delight. They knew that her sturdy young rear cheeks would now be bamboo'd with even more severity than they had hoped. Even if he had had the power, not one of them would have intervened to save her from the skinning of her schoolgirl bottom-cheeks that she was going to get! Since the boys could not have their fun with her in any other way, they wanted to see her tanned with the greatest possible zeal.

Elaine tossed back her lank hair and craned round at the justices with an "Oooooo!" of fright at what she had just done. She knew that such impudence by her young backside would earn an agonizing addition from the cane. The smiles on the faces of the portly gentlemen assured of this. At the six barred windows, six faces of reform-school boys of her own age grinned eagerly at her. Each boy humorously showed her his young erection, holding the hard and swelling penis so that she should have a good look at it.

To make matters worse for her, it seems Elaine knew that, in her present state, the naked torment of the next lash of the bamboo would make her young bottom repeat its impudence. She confided her predicament to the justices and begged an interval to regain her self-possession.

You may be sure that they refused her with smiles and chuckles! The master quickly touched the cane across her writhing rear cheeks to take aim before she could curb herself. His lips tightened vindictively. Then he thrashed the whippy bamboo across her backside with savage accuracy. The impact was sharp enough to make the very air sing! As the cane smacked across her swelling rear cheeks Elaine Cox's tomboy bottom farted more lustily still. Still smiling at her, the justices awarded her eight extra strokes to teach her a lesson for behaving in such an unlady-like manner!

Any supporter of law and order will commend this. Perhaps her young backside's first retort was accidental. But I am quite sure that Elaine's second vulgarity was deliberate.
The youngster was frantic and was trying to interrupt the discipline. What is to become of justice and chastisement if such a young slut is allowed to insult the law and impede her sentence in this manner? It will not be schoolgirls alone but young women of twenty-five or thirty who attempt to frustrate their punishments in this fashion. What then will become of decency and decorum if the fair sex is taught to employ such base ruses? In no time at all, the drawing rooms of Mayfair might echo to the same retort in matters of feminine displeasure.

I was delighted that the master took Elaine Cox to the very last stroke, including all the extras which she had earned. It was an exemplary discipline and richly deserved, as any moralist would agree. Mr. Miles was reluctant to finish with the girl even then. One cannot blame him for this. It is entirely understandable. The fifth-form tomboy had been so soundly thrashed that less resolute men might call it by a more extreme name than discipline! Yet had the insolent youngster not asked for such severity by her own defiance?

The sight of Elaine Cox still strapped ass-upwards over the block, in a big-bottomed posture and with her buttocks burning red, was a great temptation! She could not have borne a breath of wind upon her rear cheeks without flinching. In such a tender state, her robust young ass would have been responsive to a real lesson in obedience. I wished that she had been left thus at my disposal. Of all the girls in her class, I would have chosen her. Safe from prying eyes in this place from which no tales are told, I would have used the short woven lash of snakeskin. The walls were soundproof and the straps which held her over the block were broad and stout. I leave you to imagine the sequel but I assure you that Elaine would not have been able to wear the elasticized cotton of her school pants for several days afterwards! To sit on the wooden seat of her classroom desk with Michele and the others would have been an ordeal of some considerable discomfort!

When Mr. Miles laid down the cane at last, one was bound to admire his skill. The eyes which Elaine turned to us brimmed over with tears and her mouth had become a howling oval. What an improvement it was upon the insolent and rebellious look with which she had begun! As for her tomboy bottom and the rear of her thighs, she looked as if she had spent the day sitting on a ferocious thorn bush, infested by angry hornets! The cheeks of her backside were the colour of fire, marked across and across by the dangerous and deeper toned stripes of her finely swollen weals.

There was one last refinement, which is traditionally employed on a reformatory girl in this situation. The master took a jar of soft kitchen-fat. It had been heavily salted on purpose for its present use. He took some of it on his fingers and touched it lightly to the girl's thrashed buttocks. Elaine gasped and tensed herself at the burning smart of the salt grease on her cuts and her skinned bum-cheeks.

"You impudent little scrubber, Elaine Cox!" Mr. Miles said sardonically, "Keep your fat young ass still! Swell it out properly towards the justices, so that they can have a good look at it while I salt you!"

Heedless of her gasps and cries, he massaged an ample quantity of the salted fat over her behind. Her broadened young buttocks were furnace-red and sleek with the grease. Indeed the sleekness of the grease and the slightly swollen state which the thrashing had imparted, gave a fuller and even a fatter look to the cheeks of Elaine Cox's bottom.

Two matrons unfastened the youngster from the block, though they strapped Elaine's wrists firmly together in front of her to prevent any sudden act of vengeance which she might attempt. Her misconduct also made it prudent to take her directly into the tiled closet at one side of the punishment room. With the matrons holding her firmly by either arm to forestall a struggle, Elaine walked awkwardly, seeming to limp a little, which was merely the effect of the bambooing. The little grey skirt and her schoolgirl knickers were left lying on the table. She would not be needing them in the tiled room. So she wore only her white uniform blouse and striped tie. The tail of the blouse hung untidily aslant her scorching buttocks, which gave her the look of a carelessly-dressed little girl. Her head was lowered, the lank hair spilling about her face, and she continued to sob occasionally in a most contrite manner.

The matrons had suffered so much insolence from this fifth-form girl that one could not deny them a little triumph now. Their mouths rounded with amusement and amazement when they saw how finely the master had skinned Elaine's young bottom-cheeks-and how dangerously swollen some of the weals appeared. As they led the girl across the room, they whispered teasingly and vindictively in her ear. Then three of them entered the tiled closet with her and the door was closed.

It did not remain so for more than a few seconds. Indeed there was hardly time for them to lift Elaine's blouse-tail and make a preliminary examination before the senior matron reappeared. With a smile playing about her lips she approached the justices and spoke to their chairman, Mr. Bowler.

"If you please, sir, there are scores to settle with Elaine Cox-and the school spanking-strap hangs most conveniently above the toilet-basin in the closet. The little slut offered insolence to us this minute, as soon as we got her in there. It won't do, sir. It really won't do. She needs another lesson in respect already. If you wouldn't mind, sir, we should use the spanking-strap across her fat young seat.

She offered insolence, sir. All three of us shall swear that we never gave her more than a dozen leather smacks!"

Even Mr. Bowler looked a little doubtful at what was proposed. The woman give him a private smile.

"The door being padded and soundproof, sir, we shan't disturb your honors at your justicing with the other girls! And we can give Elaine Cox's bottom the strap all night, turn and turn about between the three of us, and not leave a mark that can be complained of. The little bully can take a lot of tanning yet."

Mr. Bowler relented, for he could not bear to see the good woman disappointed of the treat for which she longed and of the retribution on Elaine which every one of her teachers must have dreamt of.

"Very well, ma'am," he said. "Let it be the strap across the dirty little scrubber's backside. We shall have obedience from her, I promise you!"

Smiling contentedly, the woman dropped Mr. Bowler a curtsy. Then she walked back to the tiled closet where the other two matrons were waiting with Elaine. She entered and bolted the door behind her to prevent interruptions.

"You are to be congratulated, sir!" said Mr. Bowler, standing up and shaking Mr. Miles by the hand, "As fine a thrashing as ever I saw! Depend upon it, sir, we shall have all three of the sisters under the reformatory whip before I have done with 'em! And the woman that brought three such daughters into the world to burden respectable folk shall bare her backside alongside them!"

They had been so busy with Elaine that time had flown by and it was now after ten o'clock.

"Which of them comes next on the list?" asked old Mr. Snook quaveringly, as he tucked Elaine Cox's schoolgirl knickers into his pocket.

"It is Jacqueline and Tracey," said the master sternly. "Both to be punished for an act of immorality committed in young Madam Jacqueline's bed."

"By all means," said Mr. Bowler, "Let us have 'em in."

CHAPTER FIVE - Midnight Excitements

The first episode of justices' night was remarkable enough. Yet the unveiling had only just begun! Even were there space, you would not wish me to detail all that happened in the hours which followed. One might draw a veil over the thrashing of a randy young wife at twenty-two or, at fourteen, the bare-bottom bambooing of Jane Mitchener. Yet there occurred such curiosities of human behaviour, on the part of the girls chastised as well as their judges, that a student of life cannot pass over all of them in silence.

When Elaine Cox had been handed over to the matrons, the master turned with a solemn face to the justices.

"Unnatural vice," said he, "must always be a matter of gravest concern to decent society. What is to become of the chastity of our wives and sisters, our daughters and dear ones, if they may be seduced by the arts of a modem Sappho?"

"Bravely said, master!" called Justice Bowler, and the rest of them rumbled their assent.

"A pair of young women come before you now," the master went on, "whose depravity must bring tears to one's eyes. Jacqueline, a young married slut, enticed into her bed a beautiful girl of sixteen, Tracey. What passed between them as they lay together all night, one dares not think. Yet the fair Tracey's knickers were found discarded in the wanton sheets of Madam Jackie!"

A tragic groan went up at the news.

"This must be put a stop to!" cried old Mr. Snook shrilly, "It will spread like the plague else!"

Let me disclose a secret. It is rare that a magistrate orders a delinquent to repeat an offence in order to judge its gravity. That night, however, the representatives of law were summoned to an adjoining room. Our chairs were drawn up round a large table. To make the punishment fit the crime, in order that Jacqueline and Tracey should receive appropriate severity, the two girls were required to demonstrate their offence before the outraged justices. Unnatural vice is so foreign to the life of a respectable gentleman that he can scarcely comprehend it without some such display.

Jacqueline, the petite young wife of twenty-two, was first led in. Such apprehension in the fine-boned heart-shaped face! But such pertness in the narrow blue eyes and saucy little nose! Such coquetry in the short crop of auburn hair, lightly waved and parted on her forehead. They made her sup off her working-pants. Despite regular exercise in the marriage-bed, her hips and bottom, her thighs and haunches were almost childishly slim. At our command, Jackie Grant's knickers came down and she clambered on to the table.

Tracey entered-to a murmur of admiration for her graceful teenage figure.

She was a young beauty of sixteen, quite a tall and willowy nymph with a sweep of silkily heavy blond hair touched by gold, which she wore loose to her shoulder-blades. She had one of those finely-drawn profiles. The slope of her forehead led down to a straight and elegant nose with just a hint of mischief in it to dispel severity. Tracey had a firm chin to which she gave a certain proud tilt. Her lovely blue eyes, set wide apart, enhanced her natural dignity. That sweep of silky golden-blond hair spilt seductively and mysteriously aslant her forehead and her face, giving her an air of glamour and allure.

Even at sixteen years old, Tracey had a figure which would have made many a society beauty cry with envy-though Tracey was a common girl from a neighbourhood of jumbled houses where many children never knew their fathers.

Her body had that grace which is perhaps never seen in a girl except during her teens. She appeared now in the tight white trousers and little jacket of her riding costume, which showed her to perfection. Her legs were slim and graceful, her thighs branching out elegantly from the knees to join lithely-rounded but very feminine hips. The cheeks of Tracey Hope's bottom appeared softly and perfectly curved with the charming elasticity of a teenage nymph. Did you never find yourself walking along behind a girl in such tight denim pants with legs of such elegance? Though she was a young woman at sixteen and feminine indeed, her lovely thighs were slim enough to show the light high up between them as she walked. She bent her knees and picked her feet up well with the easy agility of youth and health.

She did not look with anger or contempt at the justices. Tracey with her calm beauty looked past them as if they did not exist. There was a firm but delicious swell to the cheeks of her backside as she walked. I heard that Mr. Bradford with his camera had followed her home from her work a dozen times, photographing her discreetly, before she was committed here. A score of camera studies in his collection display her facial beauty and another score the erotic cheek-rounding of Tracey Hope's ass in tight riding jeans.

Imagine the delight with which the men who sat round the table instructed her to stand where they could watch her, then to remove her riding-jeans and knickers! The tilt of her chin and the pride in her young face hinted at rebellion. But Tracey knew she had no choice in the matter.

The riding-jeans in which she liked to parade were tight to her skin and took some wriggling out of! But Mr. Snook's eyes lit up at the sight of Tracey Hope's knickers which were suggestively brief. In a short blouse and naked from the waist down, Tracey bowed her head modestly, the slant of golden blond hair spilling aside. She put one knee on the table and pulled herself up. They detained her at every instant, making it a slow process. The worthy magistrates must sigh and breathe over the bare beauty of her graceful sixteen-year-old thighs. They must glimpse between and see what the nymph would much rather keep hidden. As she pulled forward, they must draw their chairs close and inspect at kissing distance the bare oval cheeks of Tracey Hope's bottom and the shadowy forbidden valley dividing them.

Tracey lay down, her blue eyes looking at Jackie who knelt over her, disturbed and dismayed.

"Show us how you like to begin, Jacqueline Grant!" said Mr. Bowler, "You shall be soundly birched presently. You may as well enjoy yourself first."

Tracey might be dismayed but Jackie was not! Despite her predicament, there was a sluttish impudent air about this petite young wife with her auburn crop and heart-shaped face, the narrowed blue eyes and snub nose. She guided Tracey to turn on her side and then snuggled down with her, lying head to tail. Each girl presented her bare thighs and backside to the other, well spread in an upward squat!

The scents of Tracey Hope's bottom and legs must have teased Jackie's nostrils as her fingers began to milk her victim remorselessly. Tracey writhed and squirmed her graceful thighs upon the shameless fingers, gasping, crying out softly and catching her breath in sobs of panic as the balloon of pleasure in her loins swelled ever fuller. At sixteen she was still bashful and inexpert but before long she could not remain merely passive. Sweeping back her blond hair, she began to apply random kisses to Jackie's upper legs which were still so childishly slim at twenty-two. Then with a whimper of gratitude and adoration, the tall nymph held Jackie's femininity like a fledgling bird in her ringers. Softly she moulded and coaxed it, causing a gasp and a rapid gathering of dew. A moment more and Tracey touched her lips to the dampness of the pink, roused flesh.

The learned magistrates leant forward over the pair and watched close up how the fingers played and the lips browsed. They smiled and murmured.

"You little devil, Jacqueline! Is that how you like to use your tongue? I'm sure you could give your bridegroom a good time... And Tracey's nipples-you can reach them too?... You like Jackie doing it to you, don't you, Tracey. Show us just what it was you did to her that night. By all means kiss Jackie Grant's bottom-cheeks, for the birch will do it anyway in a little while! I'm sure she's too hardened a young bitch to be shocked by anything....And now Jacqueline! Many a man would envy you the chance to kiss those graceful thighs and the elegant cheeks of Tracey's bottom as well!....What made you cry out then, Jackie?

... Are you coming? I think you are!... Look at Jacqueline Grant, Mr. Bowler! Look at the wanton young hussy! Bringing herself off astride Tracey's leg! This has gone far enough, Jacqueline! You shall not spoil yourself in this manner before you get a birching! It is nothing short of an outrage!"

But Jacqueline knelt frantically astride, gasping and jigging, until with a series of short rising cries she defeated the moral guardianship of the justices. On the master's orders she was led at once from the table to the vault where the disciplines were inflicted. We followed, though I was able to glance back and see Tracey lying over the table, trying urgently to complete what Jackie had begun.

Jacqueline stood before us, wearing only the short blouse whose tail hung untidily aslant her cheeky little bottom.

Two of the matrons came forward and led her to judgment. They made her kneel on one end of the leather bench, her ankles strapped to that extremity. She lay forward over a leather bolster so.

It will not surprise you that Jackie cried out and began to squirm at the menacing sight of the hangman and his young assistant who now entered by the far door. Each wore his black cap and mask, though the assistant was a mere boy. A short leather jerkin and black tights completed their uniform. The purpose of the tights, I feel sure, was so that the young woman should constantly see the shape and hardening of each tool during her birching.

The apprentice finished the preparations. This lad knelt over the bench. Looking closely, he tucked the tail of the blouse high so that the softly-shaped yet youthfully trim cheeks of Jacqueline's bottom were laid bare. He examined the state she was in by slipping two fingers between the rear of her legs and asking an intimate question or two-which the justices commanded her to answer. Tense and self-conscious, the young woman did so. The lad parted Jacqueline's buttocks and peeped between them. Another question and reluctant answer. All this time, the hangman sat on the bench, holding Jackie's head to press her reluctant lips to the hard bulge in the front of his tights.

The chastiser and apprentice changed places. The lad wadded her mouth, uncapped a phial of smelling-salts and held it by her nostrils. The hangman took up the judicial rod with its three long switches cunningly budded and still wet from the salt-water.

"Thirty strokes with the prison birch across your bare bottom, Jacqueline Grant," Mr. Miles said, "We mean to cure you of your unnatural vice. We'll teach you to respect decent and wholesome forms of conduct!"

Could they-or could they not? Time alone was to tell.

The masked hangman, tight-lipped, stood over the petite young woman and touched the wet birch to the saucy little cheeks of Jackie Grant's bare ass. How the young bitch tensed those rear orbs desperately at the wet and cold menace! He raised and thrashed-and thrashed again before she could force her first mewing cry through the wad. By means of this and by stretching her so tight over the bolster, they had almost removed the power of protest from her by sound or movement!

The hangman made petite Jacqueline scream at the fourth lash of the birch, to judge from the shrillness of the mewing through her gag. His apprentice held her head firmly with an arm round her neck. The executioner deliberately missed the mark with his birch on a few occasions. He gave her two across the backs of her knees and a few across the rear of her slim thighs. He caught her bare bottom again, and soon its impudent little cheeks bore a thicket of raised abrasions. Presently the birch landed with more savage energy in a sounding smack. A score of pinpricks rose and trickled down. Ten strokes across her backside and a few to smarten her legs made Jacqueline's auburn crop droop. The lad was obliged to apply the salts to her nostrils.

The measured thrash! thrash! thrash! of the flexible switches recorded the progress of retribution. Even a severe prison regime would rarely award more than eighteen or twenty-four of this kind. Thirty for trim little Jackie was an ordeal she would never forget. From time to time the black masked figure would issue his reprimand.

"Don't tense the cheeks of your bottom, Jacqueline Grant! Must I birch the backs of your legs again to make you lie properly? Two as a warning!"

Two skinning strokes they were-and so were the six that followed upon Jackie's bottom! Again her head drooped and the lad coaxed her by the smelling-bottle to her nostrils.

I repeat my observation that such discipline as this, driving the pretty culprits far beyond their endurance, levels all ages and classes. Jacqueline Grant shrilled and strained at her straps. Though a common young woman in any case, her vulgarity was quite that of a dirty little girl of half her age.

They made her take all the thirty strokes before she was unfastened and led away, her knees giving as if they would not support her.

But now here is the curiosity, which you will see at once for you know as much about the illicit love of Jacqueline and Tracey as I did.

Would you not say that Jacqueline, at twenty-two and well versed in the ways of passion, was far more the guilty party than Tracey at sixteen? Does one deal as severely with a teenage nymph as with a married woman? In this case they were more severe with she who was, surely, the more innocent.

If you do not believe me, the entries in the punishment list will prove the case. Jacqueline Grant was to receive thirty strokes of the birch across her bare buttocks. It was severe, but only because it exceeded the usual maximum prison punishment by six or twelve strokes.

Tracey was listed to receive thirty-six. And these were to be administered with the snakeskin pony-lash! This degree of discipline, the woven lash, is infinitely more severe and forbidden officially for a girl of less than sixteen. Yet Tracey had been the victim of lust and Jacqueline its minister.

I think you would have understood the reason for this anomaly, had you been present when Tracey was called in. In her short waist-length singlet, she was bare-legged and bare-bottomed! Yet it raises nice questions of conscience. The moment she answered the summons and came through the doorway, there was a murmur of admiration from the justices who saw her. No such homage had greeted Jacqueline. Though it amused them to see her birched, Jackie is a randy little wriggler of the lower orders and no Venus.

They led her to the tall stool and made her stand there. Then Tracey had to bend over it, very tightly. Her wrists were strapped to the wooden legs on the far side with her arms at full stretch, while her ankles were fastened together on this side. Her shapely young buttocks filled out with a woman's softness but their teenage elasticity made them part widely as she bent right over.

This delectable view, Tracey's hair spilling down in a pale gold sheen as she stretched taut over the tall stool, caused a wistful murmuring from the middle-aged gentry. The long grace of her profile and the wide-set blue eyes made old Mr. Snook sigh with enfeebled longing. Every gentleman present was delighted that this sixteen-year-old had been chosen for discipline. Yet each would have preferred her for himself. A stable-block is out of sight and earshot of the house, admirably situated for chastising a young beauty. How they longed to have Tracey there, bending over the harness rail, wrists and ankles securely held. They smiled at the scene the grooms would find when they came to take the girl away. There would be the odor of arousal between those shapely thighs and the magenta stripes of the riding switch across her demure young buttocks, as well as a telltale glisten of saddle-soap smeared between. Nor would the sight be wholly unpleasing. There is a taste for young beauty tearful and pathetic, as there is for it when proud and self-assured.

The justices were entitled to have such a young delinquent displayed to their scrutiny in the most exacting manner. I saw the master's hand smooth up and down those graceful young thighs, slipping between them. His fingers manualised Tracey for a moment in what seemed the most blatant caress. The girl twisted her head this way and that, her sweep of silky hair swishing to and fro. Her legs began to tense and writhe in their straps. He fingered back to the rear of her leg-opening the pink folds of intimate flesh, so that the magistrates might study Tracey's young sex in its flushed state. He fondled the feminine rondeur of her firm young bottom-cheeks, standing close behind her so that she might feel the shape of his stiffened resolve. He pressed her rear cheeks apart. Tracey Hope's arsehole must be displayed as a means of curbing her pride for the future.

Tracey had been brought in at about ten past ten o'clock. It was half-past before they finished fondling, stroking, tickling and patting, hands shaping her hips and seat, fingertips testing her feminine sensitivity and the tightness of Tracey's rear blow-hole.

Then they were ready for the master to begin Tracey's punishment. Now here was the curious thing. She was the more innocent party in her night of passion with Jackie, who was a well-exercised and pining young wife. Yet if you had decreed a contest for beauty between Jackie, Elaine, and several other girls, Tracey would have won it. The justices therefore found it more enjoyable to chastise her. That reason alone decreed three dozen strokes and the use of the snakeskin pony-lash, which Mr. Miles now picked up from the table. He applied his left hand to her behind, fondling her as he spoke.

"Your young bottom shall be properly whipped, Tracey Hope. We shall cure you of wanting boy-friends or their substitutes. It is best that you taste the agony of a leather whip across your bare buttocks-rather than only fear it as a threat. You will think the sentence severe. But you will thank us for it when you realise it is the means of enforcing your obedience to our commands."

There were some private smiles among the justices at the prospect of the commands they would make Tracey obey.

The master stood back and drew the short lash of woven snakeskin through his fingers. Tracey twisted her face round, blue eyes wide and lips parted a little in fright. Her gaze met the quiet smiles of the justices and the eager faces of the reform-school boys at the barred windows above, each showing her a finely stiffened instrument.

Before she could protest, the master had raised his arm high. The gaslight caught the flash of a black leather curve. Then the whip landed with a report like a pistol-shot across the broadened feminine ovals of Tracey Hope's bottomcheeks. I think the anguish of it searched her very deep. She strained at the leather ankle-strap, as if frantically trying to draw one knee up in an attempt to ease the smart. The whip snaked down a second time and printed its splendid curling brand across her sixteen-year-old buttocks. Urgently she tensed those rear orbs together and let out a hiss of suppressed torment.

"Keep your ass still, Tracey Hope, you young tart!" cried Mr. Snook, his command peremptory but his mouth smiling, as she drew her knee up again.

The whip cracked a third time and the tip of the lash caught the sensitive undercurve of the nymph's bottomcheeks, just above her thigh. With a sudden shrillness which made the heart jump, Tracey Hope screamed. The master smiled. Having found the place where she was so responsive, he aimed at it again. Tracey offered a seductive target, the firm elegantly oval buttocks of a teenage girl which were made to broaden and swell into a pair of more fully feminine globes by the way she bent over. The whip caught her artfully low across them again-and yet again. Whatever one's thoughts about Mr. Miles, it was impossible not to admire his skill in this matter.

With teeth set and eyes shining, he lashed Tracey Hope's elegant young bottom six or eight times more to catch her low on its cheeks. She screamed her refusal and her inability to endure such torment-but she screamed in vain. At last the shapely teenage nymph paid him the tribute of two or three vermilion trickles which ran from her lower bum cheeks down the rear of her slim and elegant thighs.

The master paused, for one of his shirtsleeves had slipped down a little with the energy of his application. As he folded it up once more, Mr. Bradford picked up a table-mirror from the floor beside him and set it so that Tracey, when she twisted her face round should see her bare backside and legs reflected. As Mr. Miles rolled up his shirtsleeves once more, Tracey swept her silken hair to and fro, weeping self-pityingly. I think it was the sight of her young ass in its present disciplined state which made her do so.

Mr. Miles was ready again.

"Now your bottom must be more thoroughly punished, Tracey Hope," he said smiling. "Such a charming pair of rear cheeks require exemplary discipline."

He began to brand her higher up, where her delectable young buttocks swelled most fully. Frantically shrill, Tracey performed a sinuous squirming of her hips and an erotic writhing of her whipped backside which would have sent any boy-friend wild for her, if done for him as a bedroom dance. I think the first half of the punishment would have been adequate and the second half took her far beyond what she might be expected to bear. Yet Tracey had only herself to blame, for it was her graceful young beauty which earned this extra ordeal.

She would have done anything to interrupt the discipline. Once as the whip lay limp down her bottom after a lash, Tracey managed to clench her shapely buttocks upon it, as if to detain it and deny her master its use. He tugged it from her at once. A second time she attempted it with disaster to herself. The whip flashed down and she tightened her rear cheeks on it as it sped through the air. Her face instantly showed a superb portrayal of beauty in agony. Searing in the force of its motion, the speeding whip had caused Tracey to skin the inner slopes of her bum-cheeks upon it.

"Do you like it better between the cheeks of your bottom, Tracey Hope?" Justice Bradford asked teasingly when her wild shrillness subsided.

Tracey lay forward over the stool, bending tighter to draw her buttocks hard apart and prevent two tender surfaces touching. Little did she know the wicked ideas such a posture suggested to the master. Our nymph cast all modesty aside in her predicament, bending so that her entire rear anatomy was offered. But the sight was more likely to excite than subdue the master's chastising zeal.

Altering his aim, he brought the whip down short across the nearer of Tracey's bottom-cheeks so that the lash curled and caught her agonizingly between her buttocks. The whitewashed walls sounded with the unrestrained shrillness of beauty at sixteen. He caught her a second time like this before she could bear to clench-and then again just as she was trying to do so.

The smiling matron with uncorked 'sal volatile' enabled Tracey to undergo her discipline in full. Indeed, the admirers of her whip-embroidered bottom-cheeks would not permit the infliction of the lash to be remitted. When the smacking was finished, they kept her over the stool for several minutes while they considered the master's handiwork and heard Tracey's quiet soprano aria of lamentation and reproach.

Mr. Snook was handed Tracey Hope's knickers for his collection and the matrons led the girl away. She walked slowly and stiffly, in reluctant tribute to the whip maker's art. Next, a little before eleven, it was Kim who entered.

The justices thought they had seen the best with Tracey's appearance. Now they sat up and took notice. Kim showed the same moody sensuality as when I first encountered her. The full lips were painted, the lashes of the wide dark eyes were blackened and there was a little rouge on her cheeks. She no longer wore her coquettish bun, the carefully modelled crop of her dark hair being styled in slight waves to die level of her collar.

It is often the case girls are paraded in working-trousers or riding-jeans for easier unveiling. As Kim turned away from her judges and was led to the padded bench, the eyes of the portly gentlemen sparkled eagerly. She walked as she usually did in her tall heeled shoes, her tautly rounded buttocks swinging and swaying widely with the energy of her movements. Kim at nineteen had not yet had her reformatory time "reimposed." As old Mr. Snook watched the seductive rounding and swaying of her young behind and her hips. I heard him murmur to Mr. Bradford that he would reimpose it himself the very next day!

I was puzzled as to what was intended. Three matrons waited at the padded leather bench. To speak frankly, it seemed Kim was getting off lightly and I felt a pang of disappointment. The women made her lie along the bench with a cushion under her loins to raise her backside. They secured her wrists at one end, her ankles at the other. One of them undid her at the waist, pulling Kim's pants down below her knees and drawing her blouse-hem up above her waist.

"The spanking-strap across your bare bottom, Kim Roberts," said Mrs. Pratt.

The school spanking-strap is a little girl's punishment by contrast with the pony-lash or even the cane. Yet as Kim turned her face, her dark eyes intense and apprehensive, you would have thought it enough for this girl of nineteen!

The senior matron, a burly woman of forty or so, chose a strap of thin leather, two feet long and a couple of inches wide, split into several tails at its end. Her hand smoothed and tested the firm feminine swell of Kim Roberts's bare bottom-cheeks. Then, with all her force, she brought the strap down across those swelling buttocks with an explosive impact. Again and again the broad leather found its mark, hard and sharp. Kim gasped at first. She caught her breath at the smart of it. She cried out, soft and bewildered by the sting. Then the split tails curled between those rear cheeks-as was intended-and there was a shriek, as if they had just touched Kim's ticklish dimple.

I could hear her bare thighs and belly slipping against the leather bench as she squirmed and writhed. Kim's bottomcheeks surged and contorted so far as her straps would allow. But the women who spanked her did so with ferocious zeal until the shapely rear cheeks were blazing red. At last she was permitted to get up. The chastiser, however, said something to the masked hangman and his assistant about Kim's present state. I was intrigued to see that it was this pair who led her to a second tiled retreat, next to that where Elaine was dealt with. They went in with her and locked the door.

I knew Sally Fenton's impudence was to be rewarded and she proved to be next. In any reformatory discipline, there are bound to be a good many fourth-form girls. That is the age at which the law transfers them here. Sally with her high-boned prettiness and her cheeky manner, her blue eyes and her cherub hair with light curls, took the fancy of the bench at once.

It was delightful to see her made to appear in that scandalous bathing-costume which had been the dress of her public offence. They put the cheeky young imp over the block on all fours and fastened her down. The cheeks of Sally Fenton's bottom were more tautly rounded than those of older culprits, but she showed a woman's widening and filling out in this posture. Sally with her knickers down displayed the tightly-rounded surface of her young buttocks.

"Thirty strokes of the birch across your bare bottom, Sally Fenton," said her smiling master, "We don't use a school rod here. The prison birch for you, Sally. You shall feel what it is to be a grown-up young lady!"

He fetched the rod with its three quivering willow switches bound at the handle. Sally watched him, not much reassured by his words. The youngster had such a pretty little bottom that I half expected him to be lenient with her. I confess, I am glad he was not. The magistrates wanted a good look at Sally Fenton's young ass and thighs in their more intimate aspects. Before the birch, Mr. Miles handled her so that we saw everything Sally had to show us.

"Thirty strokes of the birch, Sally Fenton," he repeated quietly.

What a sight she was! The rounded cut of her fair halo with its light curls was twisted aside. Sally, the cheekiness gone from her face, looked back at us in great apprehension. Her slim, finely boned young back and the slender straightness of her agile thighs had been dusted with the gold of the sun. It was only her hips and the tight little rounds of Sally's bottom-cheeks which retained their fair-skinned hue. In essence, her anatomy was no different to that of a woman twice her age. Perhaps it was this essential and seductive femininity which made the master begin with a truly wicked lash of the prison birch across the taut bare cheeks of Sally Fenton's backside.

It made her shriek like a stuck piglet. He birched her again with an energy which any prison officer would admire. Then a third time the supple birch switches whipped across her tensed rear cheeks. Sally behaved as you would expect. Her screams were full of street-urchin vulgarity. Sally Fenton's "Shit!" and "Fuck!" were her natural language, either in conversation with her own kind or screamed out under the birch of her social superiors.

Several times the birch whacked the tight of her thighs. Sally uttered a wild exclamation-in part the intensity of torment and in part astonishment at being thrashed so wide of the mark. She was assured that these raised abrasions across the rear of her legs would not count towards the punishment.

Sally's adolescent buttocks and hips surged and twisted like a harem dancer. The birch inflicted some splendidly long raised cuts across her tight young buttock-rounds. It embroidered the trim youthful cheeks of Sally Fenton's ass, skinning the vulgar little bitch as she deserved to be! After about eighteen strokes, which would be the limit of such discipline in some institutions, the master played his favourite trick of catching her low down with the birch. Just above her thighs, he cut the softness of the saucy little cheeks of Sally Fenton's bottom six times in a row. Straining madly at her straps, she showed an endearing glimpse between the rear of her legs. But such indecency was rewarded by a slash of birch across the rear of her thighs.

"Keep your legs together properly, Sally Fenton!" the master said. He was the last man in the world to allow indecorous behaviour by such a cheeky imp.

During the final strokes, we heard her offer and threaten the most astonishing things to end the chastisement. You may judge her origin and upbringing from these for no young lady would even have thought of such rudeness. She begged the chance to suck every potentate present. She shrieked her willingness to do it! Then, with a yell, we were warned that Sally Fenton's bottom would retaliate upon the birch unless the thrashing ceased. The master ignored such hysterics. He brought off his triumph with a final thrash of the switches, which made Sally's toes curl and quite paralyzed her vocal chords for a second by the intensity of its anguish.

Here let me say a word on behalf of the master and the justices. It was now just over half an hour before midnight. For the past two and a half hours you might have stood in the punishment-vault and watched all that went on. You could not have pointed to a single minute of that time when anything happened which was not according to the law and its punishments. It is true that randy thoughts might cross the minds of the gentlemen present-but thinking is not against the law. It is also true that the girls were touched and felt. How else are they to be positioned and prepared for discipline? The law requires this. Many a grey-haired member stiffened at the sight of Tracey, Kim, or young Sally. But the law is not so foolish as to forbid an involuntary reaction.

I say only this-for the scandal was soon to break. An impartial observer could not have pointed to anything done which did not have the authority of the law or the magistrates present as its representatives. If they spoke harshly or crudely to the girls at times, remember that prison officers and others do not speak to felons in the accents of drawing-room conversation!

So the youngest delinquent was brought in. Could one imagine her guilty of an offence? Jane was an appealing youngster and it was hard to do so. She entered timidly, as well she might, a fourth-form girl in long skirt and silk bodice. Her brown hair, straight and rather lank, was plainly cut just above her shoulders, worn in a short slanting fringe on her forehead. Lively brown eyes illuminated a firm and open fair-skinned face with strong lines in the nose and chin. Jane's young lips parted upon fine and pretty teeth.

Even the youngest fourth-form girl has an idea of her power to flirt and provoke the male sex. So it was with this teasing little charmer. She had a way of turning to look at her master or the justices with her chin coquettishly tilted and her teeth set lightly on her lower Up. To be sure, there was never such a provoking little flirt as Jane Mitchener seemed! But this pretty pupil did not care to act the flirt or the coquette now, as she faced her tanning for some act of class-room disobedience.

They led her to the block and made her shed her skirt. Then they obliged young Jane to kneel in the warmth where Sally and Elaine had been. One could see the magistrates smiling as they imagined what they would like to do to this delicious chit. The matrons made her lie forward on the block, kneeling over it, while the necessary devices were adjusted to ensure that her back was straight and her young bottom faced upwards to her chastiser. The stretched white cotton of Jane Mitchener's underpants and her short bodice were now her sole attire. You may imagine that she turned her brown eyes and firm young face to us most beseechingly.

Mr. Snook stooped and considered Jane Mitchener's schoolgirl knickers which shaped the firm taut rounds of her buttocks and budding hips. His finger indicated one or two features, with a smile at his colleagues and a whisper in Jane's ear which caused the girl to look most self-conscious. She had been denied a chance to survey her rear view by the mirror's aid-and to ensure that she presented the seat of her underpants comme il faut to the men behind her. Jane Mitchener's knickers made an interesting addition to that section of Mr. Snook's collection devoted to the lingerie of a maiden at fourteen.

He took the elastic waist-band and drew them down, laying bare a beauty in the bud rather than in blossom. During these moments, the youngster still watched us over her shoulder, the little slant of her brown-haired fringe delightfully setting off the firmer line of her mouth and chin.

Her fair-skinned thighs had yet to show their full promise and the pale cheeks of Jane Mitchener's bottom seemed to be held taut, as if they knew that they had yet to assume a full feminine rondeur and grace.

"Your teacher has a score to settle with you first, Jane," said the master.

A portly gentleman entered the room. He carried a punishment-cane and pretty Jane gave a cry at the sight of him. He was a man who filled her with unnamed fears. She had perhaps been impudent to him, which provided the pretext for a teacher's revenge upon her now.

"Eighteen strokes of the bamboo upon your bare bottom, Jane Mitchener," said the newcomer. As the law entitled him, he positioned her conveniently with his hands. It was easy for him to catch a glimpse between her young thighs as he did this-and to part the taut resilience of her bare bum-cheeks that he might make a close study of Jane Mitchener's rude little porte de derriere. Putting his lips to her ear and smiling wickedly, he confided certain thoughts on what he had just seen. Jane bowed her head, desperately hiding her dismay.

The smile vanished. He touched the cane lightly across the taut pallor of Jane Mitchener's buttocks. Without a word more, he thrashed it across her bare backside with magisterial force. It was clear that he had wanted to do this for a long time and was greatly enjoying it. Jane gasped and yielded a forlorn cry. Her implacable teacher whipped her young buttocks again and yet again with the bamboo, until the air was shrill with her desperation.

I cannot conceal from you the charming sight she offered. Indeed, one felt a natural care for the youngster, though one did not wish her to be spared the sound caning which she visibly deserved. The fair-skinned, brown-eyed face, with its lank dark hair was so filled with dismay and wild appeal against what was happening to her. Yet now that she was properly bent over, the cheeks of Jane Mitchener's ass were fuller and showed the shapes of emergent womanhood more evidently in that posture.

Five or six strokes had left their crimson bamboo-prints across her fourth-form backside before the teacher caught her aslant these weals. Jane gave a cry as shrill as if liquid fire had splashed her bare buttocks. Few girls in her class could voluntarily endure a prison caning of eighteen strokes by their teacher or any other official. The straps held her firmly but Jane contrived to twist her bamboo'd rear cheeks this way and that. He punished such evasion by several across the backs of those schoolgirl legs, knowing that such stripes were extra to the total. At last he finished the eighteen. The magistrates sat agog, their eyes on one great object of admiration.

Jane Mitchener's bottom!

While Jane lamented her condition, she tensed and shifted her firm young buttocks, quite unable to keep still in the lingering anguish. The bamboo had marked her several times with a weal that was deeply cherry-coloured. It was far more than a girl of her age could endure and that was why she had been made to have it. Such is the philosophy of reformatory discipline.

Her teacher had been instrumental in getting Jane sent to the reformatory. Before he withdrew, he received the thanks of the magistrates and their congratulations on the thrashing he had just given to the pretty pupil who remained over the block.

It was now just after midnight-a time when dark deeds are traditionally done in soundproof vaults, when tyrants have a girl like Jane Mitchener ass-upwards over the birching-block. The master took up his own bamboo cane.

"A punishment for insolence, Jane Mitchener! Twenty-four strokes of the bamboo across your bare backside!"

Let me say that the best-behaved little girl may go frantic with refusal on some occasions. Jane would have done so now but fortunately the stout and tightly drawn leather held her in a perfect position. A second taste of the bamboo so soon after the first raised a question of ethics. Is it more cruel to administer the second thrashing after an interval of several minutes rather than to keep the girl waiting in suspense for hours or until the next day? This must depend on the taste of the man who inflicts it. The woeful self-pity in Jane's young face and the wicked stripes of bamboo already smarting across her bottom might inspire some men to leniency. The hope of caning her in her present state excited the justices in an opposite direction.

The master positioned her carefully, one hand under the bare smoothness of her flat young belly, the other guiding the budding femininity of her bare hips. With such a delightful young creature it was fascinating to watch the drama. Jane's prettiness was now that of tear-brimming eyes and a mournful young mouth. The shrillness which echoed from the whitewashed walls would have done credit to an actress in the most blood-curdling melodrama. The details are best not printed here. I may tell you that the allotted strokes were far exceeded and that, for all her rearward prettiness, the insolence of Jane Mitchener's young bottom was alone sufficient to ensure this.

I believe they allowed her teacher to depart for fear that he should be uneasy and perhaps spread scandal if he saw how finely Jane was disciplined in the next half hour. Her final penance, however, was merely to remain over the block for ten minutes or so, displayed as an example of the chastiser's art to herself and the onlookers. Mr. Snook was all for going on. The old gentleman eyed the lash of woven snakeskin and almost whimpered with irritation upon being reminded that Jane was a year or two from the time when it might be employed on her bare ass with the sanction of the law. The youngster also turned her open brown-eyed face to him, with the prettiness of her little fringe and the straight brown hair falling about her slim neck. How hard she appealed to the old gentleman to spare her. It would not do! While she was being caned such rudeness had appeared in Jane Mitchener's rear aspect, which the smart of the bamboo made it beyond her power to contain. How greatly the old gentleman longed to take the youngster somewhere and exact the most extreme obedience from her by the power of his lash.

Instead, he had to be content with gazing at the fledgling feminine grace of her young buttocks and thighs, marked by the brands of bamboo and smudged dots of red. Here and there a dot had run down. A slight bruise-toned smudge on the lower curve of one of Jane Mitchener's bottom-cheeks was all that told of the schoolgirl vulgarity which so roused Mr. Snook.

There was such chuckling and amusement among the justices as Jane was led out, for they had found her an appealing youngster and yet had thoroughly enjoyed seeing an example made of her. It was now almost one' clock in the morning and I could scarcely believe there was more to be done. I was soon proved wrong. For an hour or more, I watched a procession to the chastising stools and the birching-block. The young slut Maggie with her robust and impudent figure, the hard look and the somewhat crude features of her fair skinned face, the lank golden-blond hair with its fringe, stood insolently before us. She was well rewarded for that, lying astride the vaulting-horse.

They drew her lank blond hair into a collar-length ponytail so that we could see her face properly and they made her mouth the wad. It was to be the slim leather riding switch and no count kept of the strokes. Mr. Snook almost fainted away with delight at the prospect. He had stood at the window to admire Mag at her work, the denim tight over the firm broadened cheeks of her ass as she bent. Now the whip striped the cheeks of the blond shop girl's bottom until her backside was crossed by its welts and then she was thrashed across these as well. It was a deeply stirring drama for Mr. Snook. Indeed, one's only regret was when the tanning ended and they took her away.

Maggie was followed by several girls of her sort, including Sian with her pale red tresses and the sensual indolence of her pale young face. Naked over the stool, the trimly rounded cheeks of Sian's bottom received a lashing with the snakeskin thong which left them finely tapestried. Shirley Ross and a few other maidens of eighteen or nineteen followed in procession.
There were other pupils as well, including Michele Page, the fifth-form vamp with her brown hair worn in its long slinky slant across her forehead in imitation of Tracey. But the narrow shiftiness of her brown eyes and her thin wide mouth are not the features of beauty, though she still has an appealing softness in the line of her chin. It is the slant of her cheekbones, the thin lips, and the sluttish manner of flicking back-or combing back with her fingers-the collar-length slant of brown hair which gives Michele the manner of a hardened little wanton.

My opinion was not asked but I might have told them that Michele Page played with herself regularly and was the gravest moral danger to the other girls. She was sly and devious, richly deserving discipline. She stood before them, slack-hipped and sluttish, thereby stiffening their resolve to give her a hard time. When the matrons bent her tightly over the tall stool and fastened her wrists, the youngster displayed trim and agile legs in her skin-smooth denim, and soft but trimly-rounded rear cheeks. I could not help noticing how her elders and betters took every opportunity of fondling Michele's sharply-peaked little breasts through the white cotton of her singlet. Then they stripped her from the waist down, Michele Page's knickers joining Mr. Snook's collection and the taut young ovals of her buttocks presented pale and bare.

Mr. Bowler, the chairman, of the bench, stepped forward to deal with this adolescent wanton. It was the first time that night that he had wielded the rod himself. He chose the slim riding-switch of quivering polished leather. This was, strictly speaking, against regulations for a fifth-form girl but no protest was made. As a matter of prudence, however, the delinquent's frenzy was wadded. The long leather wand sang out across the bare cheeks of Michele Page's bottom and the youngster mewed frantically through the cotton from the very first stroke.

It was odd that Mr. Bowler, an entire stranger to the adolescent girl until now, should have felt such a passion of moral outrage over her misconduct.

"You little whore, Michele Page!" he gasped. "You shall have the skin taken off your impudent young ass-cheeks tonight!... Bend tighter, Michele!... Draw those rear cheeks apart and spread you thighs a little!... After this I must take you somewhere private and deal with you as you deserve...."

What more he could in private than he did now, I could not tell. No count was kept of the strokes but many dozen times the walls sang to the sharp impact of leather on smooth and tightly-rounded schoolgirl bottom-flesh. So, Michele Page's buttocks yielded their youthful tribute of ruby, whose droplets patterned the flagstones like scattered leaves. Twice the woman who attended her had to hold the open bottle to the youngster's flared nostrils. When the women unfastened her, Mr. Miles instructed them not to take Michele too far away. The wanton young slut would soon be needed again.

That remark was the key to all which followed. It was almost two o' clock in the morning when those culprits guilty of a second crime were brought back to receive their dues! Despite their smarting weals, Jacqueline Grant and Tracey Hope were both caned soundly for denying their immoral conduct when first questioned. Young Jane Mitchener's bottom had to taste the paralyzing sting of the school spanking-strap. Maggie was dealt with again and Michele Page made the acquaintance of the prison birch.

I know you will believe me when I tell you that I was not prepared for a session of this length. Towards the end I thought I should never keep my eyes open. But then I saw mat they were bringing Kim back and I now understood why she had been dealt with only by the strap beforehand. I guessed why they wanted her again. Her large dark eyes were both intense and appealing. There was a moody and sensual quality in the line of her mouth and full lips. That moulded shock of dark hair brushing her collar complemented her firm but pretty face.

For an hour or two, Kim had been under the care of the hangman and a couple of assistants in a place where she frequently took her pants down in the course of nature. This time she had been obliged to do so for another reason. Kim Roberts had had several helpings of the penis in there. These base fellows had made it seem just like part of her more usual visits. You may be sure, moreover, that public servants are too prudent to swell her belly for her. What began between her legs must finish in safer places. We watched her walk with agile thighs, the swinging and rounding energy of her backside in tight pants. Her dark eyes were intense and anxious, for Kim Roberts's bottom still felt the teasing unease imparted by a deep squirting of the hangman's brutal passion.

This time it was the tall stool over which she must bend and the snakeskin pony-lash which she must endure. They drew her knickers down and had her bending in only her short grey top. To my astonishment, they turned to me.

"Mr. Under-Master! The girl is your servant. You may object, if you choose, to a second chastisement."

Had you asked me beforehand, I swear I would have uttered some objection. Now, as if I were listening to another man's voice, I heard my own words.

"No objection, sir. I trust she will be used with exemplary severity."

I mention this incident so that you may understand how one is caught up in the feeling of the moment. They drew her right over the stool, her legs and hips bare. One could see the flush and dew of moisture on her legs, as well as the wetness of soap in Kim Roberts's bottom-crack. Such a sight makes one simultaneously excited and severe, in such a position as I found myself.

"I believe, sir," I said, "that the girl has tried to corrupt those who guarded her just now."

An eager examination followed, casting light upon the state of her thighs and requiring a display of Kim Roberts's rear anatomy to the eager justices. Then the whip was brought. What followed was a scene that cannot prudently be related in full. Kim, at nineteen, underwent an extreme degree of correction, such as was appropriate to her crime. I withhold the details, but it will not surprise you to learn that they tapestried her round young buttocks in the most formidable manner with loops and curlicues of the lash in crimson and scarlet. Several times the sal volatile was applied to her nostrils.

No account was taken of time. Kim made the hard white no walls ring with her frenzy. The wicked clip of the snakeskin caught her under the curve of her bottom-cheeks and sometimes between them. When the master raised her at last, she sank limp in his arms as a suppliant virgin.

With that the proceedings were at an end. In company with the magistrates I walked from the vault into the courtyard. To my astonishment, the short summer night was almost over and the palest green of dawn was showing in the sky above the apple orchards. I took my leave of the gentlemen as they made their way to the carriages and clattered off into the new day. Then I climbed the stone stairs and locked the door behind me. Exhausted by the prolonged spectacle, I lay down in my shirt and at once fell sound asleep.

I cannot deny the events of justices' night were a cause of controversy at the time and may be so among those who read those words. Yet had you been present, you would have seen nothing that was not consistent with law or discipline. If there were randy thoughts among the worthy gentlemen, they kept these to themselves. Not a single girl was thrashed who did not deserve it. In many a case, we dealt with a hardened young slut who as good as defied us to punish her! It is a work of moral education to chastise such young wantons. Let them mend their ways or acquire decency and moral character. Then they will thank us for our punishment of their misconduct. Be sure justice was done that night. A dozen young women were improved by exemplary discipline.

If you doubt it, then you must find fault with the leaders of our nation, the judges who urge this system and the statesmen who uphold it. Mr. Miles and those who carry out its provisions obey their instructions. We do not accuse the hangman of murder because he puts to death those condemned by the law. We pay him for his services. How much in less can we accuse those who inflict chastisement where the law requires it? To abolish such forms of punishment would horrify the good people of England and would never be permitted by our rulers.

CHAPTER SIX - Elaine Cox

In the days which followed the remarkable events of that summer night, I was left to make what I could of the events I had witnessed. To tell you the truth, I did not know whether the conduct of the magistrates or the girls they chastised seemed to me the more curious. To be sure, there was something a little questionable about the worthy justices. Not for a moment did I wish to undermine their authority but, I confess, they showed a singular relish in their dealings, whether with fifth-form girls or randy young wives.

Yet there were two sides to the question. You have seen something, through my eyes, of how certain girls behaved on that occasion. Do you not find a youngster like Elaine to be a curiosity? You may be sure she did not enjoy the bamboo across her bare bottom-let us have no misunderstanding about that. And yet she seemed to do everything in her power-by insolence and defiance-to increase the severity of her punishment.

Such thoughts as I had upon the question puzzled me greatly and I was bound to inquire a little into the nature of such girls and their way of conducting themselves.

There can be no harm now in revealing that a number of highly respected middle-aged gentlemen, benefactors of the reformatory, had coveted Elaine Cox as a subject for discipline since she was no more than thirteen years old. Now that the young slut is safely out of the way, no longer able to tell tales or cause trouble for her betters, the truth may as well be acknowledged. You can be sure that most of these gentlemen and the justices themselves regretted that Elaine Cox at first sight was not immediately consigned to their care so that they might have their fun with her in the punishment-vault. Even at that earlier age, she had a tomboy vulgarity and insolence which called for the taking down of her knickers and the application of bamboo to her bare bottom and thighs. As a matter of moral example, one ought surely to chastise Elaine Cox for her tomboy impudence at thirteen as well as at fifteen.

I will admit that there are some who object. They protest that many willing disciplinarians would enjoy taking Elaine's knickers down and using the strap and the cane on her bare buttocks while she was still in white knee-socks. But this is pure can't. Because a man enjoys chastising a ruffianly schoolgirl at that age, is she to escape punishment for her willful misconduct? The notion is both absurd and immoral!

As a consolation for not yet having her at their disposal, one or two of the middle-aged gentlemen would note the time at which she walked to and from school. As if it were a coincidence, one or other of them would often follow the same route as the girl, up the hill to the very door of the house, walking a little behind her and admiring the view she offered.

Even at that stage of life, Elaine Cox had the look of a young adolescent ruffian. The innocence of her school uniform seemed only to emphasize the defiance of the broad oval of her slum-child's face, framed by the lank fair hair combed from its central parting to lie loose upon her shoulders. She wore the familiar white blouse and the striped tie. A pair of white knee-socks covered her calves and shins. Any compunction which the follower might feel in dealing as he wished with her was removed at once by die sight of the manner in which Elaine wore her grey pleated skirt. The skirt was too small in any case for a big girl of her kind.

Moreover, she wore it scandalously short, in the most provocative manner. The gentleman who kept pace four or five yards behind her was able to feast his imagination upon the schoolgirl pallor of Elaine Cox's somewhat heavy young thighs.

To him the mere accident of her natal date was unimportant. The sight which she presented removed all compunction in dealing with her. From time to time a friendly breeze would waft the back of the little skirt upwards as the gentleman followed her on the hill. He drew a little nearer, closing the gap for a better view, and sighed over the sight. The stretched white cotton of Elaine Cox's schoolgirl knickers hugged and moulded the sturdy shape of her young hips and bottom-cheeks. No man who was her master, either in the reformatory or the harem, would hesitate to have her thrown across his bed or to have her bare bottom pony lashed, as if she had been a woman in her own right.

For the time being there was no more that could be done. Yet one must not belittle the intensity of the disciplinary passions which this young slut inspired in the worthy justices. One of them would stand adoring a row of Elaine Cox's knickers drying on the washing-line-for she changed her pants every day-as if such intimate briefs were a substitute for the charms they covered. One worthy gentleman even found a room for hire with a view of the bedroom window beyond which the girl slept. He saw little but his imagination was fired by the sights just beyond his range of vision.

It was not surprising that Mr. Justice Bradford would lie in wait for the girl with his camera, using any kind of wall or door to hide behind. Then, finding a convenient hole or aperture through which to aim the lens, he would photograph Elaine as she passed, laughing and shouting among her friends. Often he would crouch down and aim for a view up her sturdy legs and under die little skirt! I am told by one who knows that he did not scruple to photograph her through the letter-flap of his own front door when she passed that way! At length he possessed a private collection of fifty or a hundred photographs of Elaine Cox. They had all been taken surreptitiously while she was still of an age to escape the reformatory.

When the girl provoked such intensity among the justices, you may imagine how impatiently they longed to have her in their power. For the time being they could only wait and hope. A man of true disciplinary resolve would like to begin as early as possible in dealing with such a girl as this one. However, they knew that a shouting and striding youngster of her kind would get into trouble sooner or later.

So the middle-aged admirers of this impudent tomboy followed her and spied upon her as she yelled at the ruffian boys across the road that she would see them after the show-or else jeered at respectable folk for being too scared to breathe outside their own front door. She would turn a home into a rowdy household.

Most of the teachers at school-all die men and even some of the women-longed to be revenged upon the girl for her willful disobedience. There was delight on the occasion when the headmaster summoned her to his room and administered the strap across the tight-fitting seat of Elaine Cox's cotton briefs. Afterwards, when she went privately to examine the state of her young backside, every chink and hole in the brick wall of die lean-to was occupied by the eye of one of the boys of her own age, eager for a glimpse of her in this state. I am assured that these peepholes in the wall were not the work of the lads themselves but of one of the justices. In his frustration, he often loitered to spy upon the youngster with her knickers down.

Would it not have been better had the law permitted her to be consigned to the reformatory then and there? At liberty she was a constant distraction to a man whose time should be spent serving his country in better ways. A little scrubber like Elaine ought not to be permitted to cause this. Having her in his power, he might have marched her to the closet for undressing, handling, bottom-smacking, fondling, her lips drawing the venom from the serpent, and a good whipping across her bare backside to round off the session. Then he might put her from his mind and return to his public duty unimpeded. One cannot doubt that such an arrangement would have been greatly preferable and far more in the public interest.

The time passed until Elaine's big sister was brought before the bench of magistrates on the grounds of moral delinquency. Though this is not a crime by statute, it is part of the magistrates' duty to curb such open misconduct and to prescribe remedies for it. To put it plainly, in this case, Elaine's big sister had a swollen belly and no wedding-ring upon her finger. The duty of the court was plain enough. A sentence of five years' reformatory training was imposed to improve the young wanton's morals for her.

After that, it was much easier to incriminate the younger sister. The justices were keen to do this. Apart from the public duty of punishing delinquency, there was a further enticement. When two sisters are held in the same reformatory, the justices may indulge in certain more efficacious forms of training and punishment involving them both. Humiliation and frenzy under the whip may be more piquant when undergone by one sister in the presence of the other who is soon to share the same fate.

The famous day approached. Elaine was on her way to school. As usual she was behaving in the rowdy and impudent manner which any magistrate would soon be persuaded to regard as against the King's peace. The chairman of the justices gave his orders to the constable and a pair of burly assistants. Elaine was approached, seized, and dragged struggling to the lock-up. They charged her with scandalous public conduct and a breach of the peace.

The magistrates were already waiting and a private sitting was held at Bowler Hall within the hour. The great advantage of this court of summary jurisdiction in English law is that its members are both judge and jury at the same time. The case was, in that sense, identical to the matter of Sally and Jane. Even before the proceedings began they assured Elaine that they were going to find her guilty and they advised her to get used to the idea of several years of reformatory education. Presently they passed a sentence of three years in the reformatory for this youngster. Then, as was their right, they at once re-imposed it, so that Elaine Cox would remain in their power at least until she was eighteen.

If there was a single disadvantage in this scheme, it was that Elaine could not at once be sent to the main reformatory. She must go first to the juvenile institution and then, in a year, she would be put directly under the rule of Master Miles.

As for the scandalous manner of her dress, they would not have changed it for the world! Elaine was to wear the same provocative uniform, the white blouse and the striped tie, the grey pleated skirt brazenly short on her sturdy young thighs and the pants of white stretched cotton underneath. Such an indecent display gave them ample opportunity for retribution upon her. The sight of her robust adolescent thighs bare under the short hem was deeply stimulating to these worthy justices.

At fourteen, Elaine was transferred to Master Miles' institution. She would spend her first year in the fourth form and then complete her schooling in the fifth-form, with such girls as Michele and Tracey. She was to sleep in a room of half-a-dozen beds. Her companions were adolescent girls who were also her class-mates.

From the day she entered the reformatory, Elaine set herself up as "bully" of the other girls. To be sure, she was a rough and rowdy youngster who seemed made for such a role. It was part of Elaine's power over the others that she pretended complete indifference to the master and his punishments. She swore to her companions that he was "a dirty old bastard who only liked punishing girls so that he could take their knickers down and give them a good feel." Even after she had been soundly caned, she would let it be known that it had not hurt her a bit. When she was sure none of the others had been within earshot, she would swear that she had not once cried out under the bamboo. They had caned her and caned her to make her yell. But she had not done so. Not she.

To the master and matrons of the reformatory, Elaine Cox at fourteen or fifteen presented a challenge to discipline and authority which could not be ignored. They claimed that all her punishments were intended to teach her a lesson in manners or obedience. Yet they knew quite well that they would never curb her insolence and vulgarity. Nor did they truly want to.

The puzzle of her defiance upon justices' night was easily solved. On the following evening, you might have seen a curious gathering of the girls who were Elaine's age. They followed her into the tiled closet, where the youngster dropped her skirt, pulled her knickers down to her knees, and bent forward, supporting herself with her hands on the toilet-seat. You will recall that after pulling the drawer clear of the chest by the wall of my room. I was able to open a window into this place. I positively could not resist seeing what they were up to.

Bending slightly forward, Elaine offered a bare rear view which was a triumph of adult discipline. The cheeks of her fifteen-year-old bottom were somewhat swollen from the thrashing of the previous night. There were bruises light as mushroom-brown and others dark as oyster-blue. I suppose that a chastiser rarely has the chance to see the results of his zeal as fully as shown then by Elaine Cox to her cronies. Her tomboy bottom-cheeks and the rear of her sturdy adolescent thighs were striped fifty times by slim weals which ran from red fire to blueberry in their tones.

The other girls gazed upon this spectacle. One or two questioned her timidly. I did not catch their words but I heard Elaine's answers. Tossing back her lank hair, she twisted her face round and assured them that she had hardly felt the thrashing. It was a flea-bite. No more. The dirty old bastards had tried to make her count the strokes. Sticking her young ass right out at them to do it more derisively, Elaine Cox had farted in the faces of the magistrates. She assured the other girls of this. Then she had told the entire bunch of magistrates to fuck themselves before she would call for a single stroke. They had taken turns to cane her until they were too exhausted to continue-and still she had refused to ask them to punish her.
Then came the climax of the drama.

"Let's have a look at Michele!" cried one of the other girls.

So that was it! There had been a dispute between Elaine and Michele as to which fifth-form girl could take the worse thrashing. Now it was the young vamp who bent next to Elaine. The more trimly rounded cheeks of Michele Page's fifteen-year-old bottom were certainly striped and bruised from the riding-switch. But she had not been as severely thrashed as Elaine. Her challenge had been a half-hearted affair and, I believe, Michele knew it. She was a wanton little temptress, vulgar and impudent, but she was not a match for Elaine.

Such a rebel who challenges the ruler is always doomed to pay the price of failure. And so it was now. Michele stood at the centre of the group, naked but for her white vest, a hard little minx. She brushed aside the slant of brown hair which fell across her face. The narrowed brown eyes and the thin leering mouth showed her for what she was.

But soon there was retribution. Half a dozen of Elaine's cronies seized Michele and bent her over the seat again. I could not see how they stopped or wadded her mouth but they did so. Michele squirmed and struggled but there were arms holding her hands and elbows, arms around her neck and shoulders to make her bend over properly, arms around her waist, arms round her lower thighs and legs, eager hands holding her ankles and wrists.

To be sure there was an excitement in watching all this. What struck me more forcibly however was the manner in which the girls had learnt to imitate those who ruled over them. They did not reject the kind of punishment which the master and the justices inflicted on them. They adopted it and used it upon one another. So the birch and the whip may, by those who have received them, be transmitted to generations yet unborn in this noble land of ours.

The means employed now were quieter and more cunning man the lash. From its place of hiding a spray of fresh nettles with a ferocious sting was produced. They held her bending tightly, her lips and tongue shrilling with hysterical adolescent energy against the hand which covered them.

Up and down Michele's slim young thighs the nettles were drawn, painting the pale flesh with a rash of white sting-blisters. The others held Michele's legs open, though the girl herself strove to close them together. They stung her on that sensitive smoothness badly enough to drive her frantic. Then followed a wicked little tickling of Michele's youthful femininity.

It was out of the question to interfere, for they had locked themselves in with her. Moreover, it was instructive to see Michele Page dealt with as she deserved. They raised blister rashes on her buttocks as well and stroked her between them with the sting-spikes of the leaves. Then one of them gave her a hearty swipe or two with a strap across her bare buttocks and they left her gasping and twisting on the tiled floor.

I watched this with fascination, for it revealed to me the truth about Elaine's behaviour. What had seemed inexplicable in the punishment-vault the night before was now plain as daylight. She had deliberately incurred extra discipline at a time when she could still bear it, even though she must pay the price when it was more than she could endure. She did not do this because she enjoyed the cane or found any but a sick and horrid excitement in the thought of it. Elaine needed to be beaten more cruelly than had been intended. The weals and bruises were necessary to her in order that she might hold her place as bully of the other girls.

It was in vain that Michele had challenged her. There could be no question that Michele was a randy little minx but she lacked the fortitude to earn extra pain by her defiance as Elaine had done. So here was the explanation of it all! What, after all, inspires a woman to accept pain and even humiliation for her own satisfaction? Surely it is vanity and pride-and the hope of power over others. The extra punishment which Elaine received must have seemed to her a price worth paying so that she should remain bully of the reformatory, the unofficial ruler of the place.

As all this became clear to me, I began to understand a good deal about the nature of the adolescent female! And there also occurred to me a thought about Elaine herself.

She would take anything a man gave her rather than complain of it. I will speak bluntly and confess that I found her a challenging youngster. I began to imagine situations in which I should have to deal with her myself. Why is it, when there are graceful young nymphs like Tracey to be had, that one yearns for the stronger pleasures of a tomboy like Elaine?

Do not think me blind to beauty. I had designs upon Tracey as well! Yet in my waking dreams, I imagined more powerfully than ever some scene or other in which I dealt with Elaine alone in the study or punished her ingeniously in the tiled closet. There was no occasion, of course, to translate such imaginings into reality. Yet they prefigured my downfall and the scandal which was to follow.
As the weeks of that warm spring passed, it seemed that my reputation grew with the justices as it declined with the reformatory girls themselves. I felt sure that the little bitches regarded me as a weak and easy fellow with whom they could do as they wished. Maggie showed her scorn openly when I watched her at work. Elaine strode past me with a contemptuous toss of her lank fair hair. I was able to make Kim serve me in the casual way of a chamber-maid but she is a girl whose disposition leans towards the intense and fearful rather than the impudence.

Mr. Bradford spoke kindly to me and praised me for my assistance in helping him to have cheeky young Sally consigned to the reformatory. Several times he joined Mr. Miles and I at dinner, the master and he having investments which they liked to discuss afterwards. I met Mr. Snook on one or two of these occasions but it was hard to find much common ground between us.

The truth is that Mr. Snook was somewhat older than even I had thought. His tastes were those of an elderly gentleman who cannot make use of feminine beauty any longer in the good old vigorous fashion. He had a positive mania for collecting knickers from girls who were stripped for punishment. I suppose these trophies reassured him that he had conquered the damsels to whom they belonged. I was privately told by Mr. Bradford that old Mr. Snook had a couple of deep desk-drawers crammed with these mementoes and that he browsed over them of an evening, crowing and grinning. It was also his pleasure to exact the performance of certain undignified functions from the girls whom he disciplined. This, too, I suppose to be an aberration of senility. Yet he was much respected in the county and universally as a fine old English gentleman, "one of the olden type," as the song has it.

If Mr. Snook is a Tory of the old school, then Mr. Justice Bowler is his modem descendant. In the prime of life, full of vigour at fifty, he is a self-made man. A saddler by trade, he is known to nobility and royalty for his fine shops in the most fashionable streets of our towns and cities. I had no doubt from the first that if Mr. Miles was the ruler of this little kingdom within the reformatory walls, then Mr. Bowler was the great power behind the throne. He has friends of the greatest influence and has interested them in our work.

One of these, Lord Frederick Cyr, is a local landowner who became a justice by Mr. Bowler's persuasion. A young gentleman of military origins, Lord Cyr never failed to support the master and his assistants in whatever they wished to do. I met him twice at dinner with Mr. Miles during the weeks which followed. The second time I sat next to him and hardly knew where to keep my tongue! In all my life I had never supposed I should one day sit down to dinner with a lord. It seemed the most auspicious omen.

Will you believe me? He was the most modest and unassuming of nature's gentlemen. During the meal, he talked very freely of his colleagues and especially of Mr. Bowler.

Justice Bowler soon appeared to me like the greatest power in the land. Not only was he a magistrate and trustee of this reformatory but, it seemed, he had a house of correction on his own property. I daresay he was not the master of it but his power over the. girls who languished there must have been well-nigh absolute!

"I assure you of it from what I have seen with my own eyes," Lord Frederick said amiably as we drank port together in the master's drawing-room, "And most necessary it is that Mr. Bowler should have a place where certain sluts who work for him can be kept under detention."

He referred in particular to one of the shop-girls at the saddlery in town. Indeed, Lord Frederick allowed me to glimpse several photographs of her from Mr. Bradford's collection. They showed a quite tall and well-built girl of nineteen whose fair-skinned face had a firm and resolute air. Noreen's dark hair was worn straight and lank to her shoulders with a fringe on her forehead. There was a lazy insolence in the slant of her brown eyes. The wide points of her cheek-bones and the firm resolve of her fair-skinned features certainly conveyed an air of challenge to any disciplinarian.

"You would find the young slut a match for Elaine Cox!" said Lord Frederick with a laugh. "Her impudence is such that Mr. Bowler hardly knows how to punish her for it sufficiently! Noreen resents the lash more powerfully than any working-girl I know. How she resents it! I promise you, she would make trouble if she could! Speaking for myself, I should prefer her to be sent to a place from which no more would be heard of her. It would be more prudent in my judgment."

I mention this conversation and the girl herself because, though I was not to set eyes on her until long after, Lord Frederick hinted at an unrecognized danger which might have been the ruin of us all.

When he left that night, I saw that he had deposited the several photographs on the table between us and had forgotten to pick them up. There was to be another justices' night in a week or two and so I promised myself that I should give them back to him then. In the meantime, I would keep them safely in my room.

I made my excuses presently and retired for the night. As I smoked a cigar before turning, in, with the window open on to the warm and fragrant darkness of the courtyard, I took up the photographs and considered them with care.

To begin with there was Noreen's face, the portrait of a hardened slut who thought far too much of herself. There were two others of her in the working costume of a saddler's girl: the cotton singlet, the stout leather belt, and the riding jeans of light blue drawn tight and smooth over her lower figure.

The second of them showed her laying out saddles and harness for the admiration of the passing world. She was a well-built girl and, sitting on her heels as she knelt, the tightened denim showed strong young thighs and firmly broadened rear cheeks. The sequel to this was taken from close behind as she went forward on all fours to polish the space around the saddles. It was easy to see why Mr. Bowler found Noreen a provoking young whore. Though the lank dark hair fell about her face and neck, concealing them, the riding-jeans were drum-skin smooth and tight over her strong young thighs and the broadened cheeks of Noreen's bottom. She was quite a big-made wench but not flabbily plump. What intrigued one most about this rear view of the girl at her work was the way that the stout central seam of the denim coat was drawn deep and tight between Noreen's sturdily swelling buttocks, so that their lower fatness almost closed over it again as it was strained under her legs. Though she was not naked in this area, the smooth tightness of the denim seat displayed Noreen's rear anatomy of thighs and backside to the passing world in the most scandalous fashion! It would be impossible to glimpse such a view of her at her work and not think how richly she deserved a taste of the lash for her impudence.

Each of these camera studies was a full-plate print about eight or ten inches square. They went easily into frames and hung on the wall of the room where I could admire them as I smoked a pipe in my chair or lay thoughtfully in bed. In my mind I practiced upon the pictured image the demands of obedience I must one day make of such girls in reality. I began by confronting the face of this impudent female bumpkin, the collar-length of her lank dark hair and its fringe framing her resolute young features. It was pleasing to confront her firm young gaze and tell her in imagination the things which were going to be done to her.

Presently my eyes would wander to the tight-seated rear view of the girl on all fours, polishing or brushing. The firm broad swell of Noreen's bottom-cheeks in the straining cloth and the suggestively-moulded softness between the rear of her thighs held one's attention. I imagined her held thus as she was undone at the waist and the pants worked down. In no time at all, I had begun to devise a retribution upon Noreen for her resentment. I was eager to satisfy the most severe judgment upon her. Noreen's knickers must come right down. And then? It was at this point that thoughts of her strapping young bottom-cheeks bare and pale led to a confusion in my mind. It would be my duty to whip the bare cheeks of Noreen's backside. And yet other thoughts nagged at me, uninvited. I could not help thinking of what I might do to Noreen first of all.

I know you will believe me when I tell you that certain unworthy images of Noreen's ass and her femininity being at my disposal caused me to blush at my own forwardness. Mr. Bowler was a fine gentleman and I began to fear that I might lose control of my feelings and betray my trust in some way. No word of scandal had ever attached to Mr. Bowler, for it was impossible to imagine such a dung. I beg you to remember that he was supported by patrons who were pillars of the law and more respected in country society than you can possibly imagine. Alas, this would not save me from an accusation in court, if I should be guilty of impropriety. I would be safe, however, if I followed the example of Master Miles himself. As I looked about me in the reformatory, I saw nothing but what was proper and according to the rules.

In the months to come, I sometimes wondered if I should not have made some protest about Mr. Bowler and his treatment of girls like Noreen. On reflection, however, the idea is preposterous.

Ask yourself this. Would you have gone to the Lord High Chancellor with some accusation and asked for Mr. Bowler's arrest? If you would remove a magistrate, remember, it must be done by the Lord Chancellor himself, the very pinnacle of English law. I had evidence of nothing, merely a few innocuous pictures and a story from Lord Cyr. It was possible that Mr. Bowler had done one or two other things to Noreen while her knickers were down for discipline but I could not prove it. Nor did I wish to.

Does that startle you? Remember, men, that even had I been justified in an accusation, I should have been a beggar or a pauper for the rest of my life. What master or what patron would ever trust me again? It was in such a mood that I made my decision to wait quietly for the time being.

It is true throughout our lives that the longer matters continue to run smooth and quiet, the longer we suppose the calm must last. When Mr. Miles made Jacqueline position herself for his inspection, in the dining-room that first night, I expected a private scandal. When I heard him cane and birch red-haired Sian in his study with her knickers off, I feared for his removal from his post for gross turpitude. I had been very discreet with Kim, and yet at first I thought the hand of the law would grab me by the collar. The events of the justices' night, if acted by those who were not magistrates, would surely have put us all in prison. It was only after the events I witnessed there that I felt sure these dangers were past.

How could I be arrested or thrown into prison for anything I did according to the rules, when I had such powerful patrons and influential friends? What randy little scrubber or insolent working-girl would be listened to against the weight of reputation and respectability?

I see now that I was mistaken in my sense of such security. Yet I could not comprehend that anything was amiss. By stirring up trouble, no girl would win her freedom from the sentence of the law. The best she could hope for would be a transfer to another institution in the wake of the scandal she had caused. You may imagine how they would welcome her there! The birches would be soaking in brine and the whips would be polished in good time for her arrival. Those who practice the law do not like sneaks and malcontents. With a proper sense of loyalty to ancient institutions, they exact pitiless vengeance for any harm done to their colleagues.

In this mood of contentment and security, I passed from late spring to high summer. Several months had gone by since my arrival and I felt as if I had always dined on the best and drunk the finest. It was a shock to realise that I would feel hard done by if I had to return to my life as a bailiff. Yet as a bailiff, I always congratulated myself on my success in life and was aware how many people looked up to me in envy.

I write this in order that others may see how completely I was seduced by the apparent security and comfort of my new position. It is my sincere hope that those who read of it will profit by the errors of my own experience. From time to time it crossed my mind that greater things still lay ahead of me. Why should I not become a master myself in a few more years? The thought of the powers it would give me over Elaine, Michele, Kim, Tracey and their kind almost took my breath away.

I did not know it, but now I stood upon the edge of the abyss.

CHAPTER SEVEN - Elaine Cox-Bottom Upwards!

The master of such a reformatory is generally a man of substance. About six weeks after the events of justices' night, Mr. Miles was involved in a small lawsuit over some land which he owned near Hereford. A tenant, who was entirely at fault, disputed the possession of it. And so Mr. Miles must attend the court.

His attorney, Sir Austen Jarman KC, warned him that the affair might last a week or two. There were bound to be several adjournments. In the absence of the master, his deputy had charge of the reformatory. I was honored to hear that Mr. Bowler and his brother magistrates thought me well able to bear the burden. I had been found diligent in my duties. Moreover, these worthy gentlemen saw in my conduct a man in sympathy with Master Miles and themselves.

So it was that I first found myself about to exercise the power of master for a few weeks. I would sit in his study and wield the scepter! I confess privately that the prospect greatly excited me. The night after I was told the news, I could not sleep at all for thinking of it! What powers I should have over the delinquents within those walls! My heart beat faster at the thought.

The arrangements were soon made. A pair of documents was signed and witnessed by the chairman of the bench to convey the necessary powers to me for that period. Then, on a cool spring morning, the master's horses were harnessed and he stood in the archway, taking his leave of me.

"Remember," he said, "the little bitches will test you. See that you reward them well for it!"

His words removed all restraint upon my conduct. I little thought that they might also lead to my downfall.

I did not imagine that any of the girls would attempt such a test at once. Nor did they. A day passed and it seemed that the reformatory might run as well under the care of the matrons, whether I was in command or not. But on the third fateful day, the master's words were proved true. I was tested, after all, to see if I dared meet the impudence and contempt of adolescent girlhood.

It was a fine morning and I sat down at the study desk to familiarize myself with certain documents. The master had positioned that desk in the bay-window of the study, at ground level. As one sat there, the view was of lawns and flower-beds. The nearest of these was immediately outside the long window, not four feet from my eyes as I sat there.

The girls of the fourth and fifth forms had been set to work, weeding that garden courtyard. They had changed their skirts for working-trousers, as was usual. I saw that the matrons had allocated the flower-bed immediately outside the study window to the younger of the Cox sisters, who had tried to defy the cane on justices' night. I thought nothing of this, however, as I sat down.

Elaine stood there idly, the lank fair hair worn plain and straight from its central parting, in her usual manner, so that it lay loose on her shoulders and framed the broad oval of her impudent face. The snub-nosed youngster stared with eyes narrowed and thin lips pressed tight.

It was interesting to see this sturdy adolescent schoolgirl in her blouse and the working-trousers, which were made of smooth grey-blue lavender cloth. They were decidedly tight-fitting on the slight heaviness of her fifteen-year-old thighs and hips. She had drawn them in to a narrow waist by wearing a broad leather belt. This strained them tighter still over her hips and seat.

When she turned her back to the window, the strained cloth gave a somewhat fuller and heavier look to the cheeks of Elaine Cox's bottom. I greatly enjoyed this vulgar and suggestive appearance, for it seemed to match her conduct and character. It made her look what she was-the child of a slattern who would grow up to be one herself!

When she turned her back to the window, I saw that she had drawn the belt so tight that from the rear Elaine Cox's backside seemed almost to form a circle. If she chose to wear her little grey skirt short to show her bare thighs, then the tightness of her lavender trousers was equally deliberate. What a hardened little wretch she was!

While she was still in the junior reformatory, at fourteen years old, she would abscond for several hours to meet boys of her own age. She walked openly through the streets, dressed in these same tight pants. Mr. Bradford, the gentleman who specialized in taking photographs of the girl as he spied on her, was present then. He has several gems in his private collection. They show Elaine Cox's fourteen-year-old bottom-cheeks and hips, vulgarly fattened in the tight lavender trousers as she walked out to meet her boy-friend.

The same object was soon to be the cause of my own downfall. While the papers lay unattended on the desk, I could give my attention to nothing else that morning but the sight beyond the window a few feet from me.

Elaine Cox's ass!

To my delight, she now had to bend over and begin weeding the flower-bed which came up to the window. As she stooped grudgingly to her labors, the cheeks of Elaine Cox's bottom were fattened and broadened more suggestively still under the thin smooth cloth of her trouser-seat.

The things which I imagined myself doing to that part of her anatomy made it impossible to attend to my paper-work. I knew that I was going to spend the whole morning doting on the strapping young backside of this schoolgirl tomboy! The movements of her fattened trouser-seat as she stooped and shifted, straining the tight cloth this way and that, entirely seduced me.

Elaine knew I was watching her. From time to time, she tossed the lank fair hair clear and glanced back at me. Her eyes were narrowed and the contempt in her snub-nosed face was clear. But to a man of substance there is an added pleasure in letting a girl of Elaine Cox's sort know that one is having a good look at her ass as she bends-or any other part of her which takes one's fancy. I leant forward more earnestly and made a closer study of her broadened and fattened rear view as the tight smoothness of her trouser seat presented it to me.

She looked back again at me. I leant forward a little more and made a yet lewder inspection of Elaine Cox's tomboy bottom and her robust young thighs, wanting her to see that I was doing so. I knew then that I was going to find some pretext for caning her before the morning was over. I should soon have her in the study with her school knickers down, whatever the cost. I had never caned a girl before but I badly wanted to do it to Elaine. Before I did that, I would fondle her bare thighs and backside-and I would fiddle between her bottom-cheeks and under her legs. If she thought she would test me by her present impudence, as Master Miles had warned, she would soon learn her mistake!

You see the state of mind I was in? Reason and prudence had deserted me! I might have had Michele Page or any of the other fifteen-year-olds. I might have summoned petite Jacqueline Grant, well-exercised in married passion. But I was obsessed by the girl who bent to her work just beyond the window.

I make no apology for my choice. A youngster like Elaine Cox has that adolescent vulgarity at fourteen or fifteen which is appealing to a man. In a few more years her schoolgirl sturdiness will turn to fat. By twenty- she will be a drab. It is right, as Mr. Bowler says, that she should be enjoyed while she can still offer pleasure to her admirers.

The insolent youngster responded to my inspection of her by ceasing her labor and merely staring back at me as she bent! I opened the window and said quietly to her.

"Get to your work, Elaine Cox! I'll thrash that strapping young ass of yours, if I see you idle again!"

With an unwilling and resentful air, she began to pluck out the weeds from between the flowers. I sat back in my chair and tried to study the papers on the desk. Presently I looked up and saw confronting me the same vulgarly fattened cheeks of Elaine Cox's ass a few feet before my face. There is a pony-lash kept in the stable, a short tail of woven snakeskin. I imagined myself using it on the bare backside of this fifth-form girl. Half a dozen times it has been used on the round young cheeks of Jacqueline Grant's twenty-two-year-old bottom to curb her randiness. Unfortunately, the rules allow a whip to be used only after a girl has reached her sixteenth birthday, which was not yet the case with Elaine.

I leant forward again and studied the view which the youngster was offering me. It was then that I saw her deliberate defiance. Though she was stooping, her hands were idle. She knew perfectly well that I was watching her-and she defied me, as she had tried to defy the master on justices' night! I cannot describe the excitement I felt. I knew what I was going to do. Once again I opened the window.

"Elaine Cox! When the matrons have finished with you this morning, go and change into your uniform. Then come to me here-in the study. I'll give you a taste of bare bottom discipline while you're strapped over the sofa! You must have a proper punishment lesson this time. I shall make it last all afternoon. You're a fat-assed little whore, Elaine Cox! I'll teach you manners in a way you'll never forget! For the rest of the morning, you'll bend to your work-and you'll keep your impudent young seat facing my window!"

The insolence in the broad oval of the youngster's snub-nosed face faltered only briefly. Mrs. Gedge and another matron who overheard my reprimand grinned at one another with quiet satisfaction. Do not imagine that they were shocked by what I intended. On the contrary, they were delighted to hear that an insolent fifteen-year-old like Elaine Cox was going to be given a hard time.

Elaine bent over to her work again. Despite her bravado, I noticed that her teeth pulled at her lower lip from time to time in a nervous and instinctive fashion. But she would also toss back her lank hair as she worked and gave me a defiant glance. I could afford to respond with a knowing smile, assuring the girl of how much I was going to enjoy myself with her in another hour or two.

I made no attempt to return to my paperwork for the rest of the morning. My heart was pounding with excitement at what I was going to do to her and I could think of nothing else. As Elaine bent in her big-bottomed posture and the lavender trouser-seat was smooth and tight over her sturdy schoolgirl buttocks, I studied this rear view of her still more closely and intently. I was deaf or blind-whichever you will-to the possible consequences.

The rounding and shifting of Elaine Cox's backside as she stooped and tensed, her bum-cheeks well broadened and stretched apart, held my attention so completely that I scarcely looked away from this view until the matrons gave the order to the girls to cease work for the morning. They led her firmly by either arm to the room where her school uniform hung-and there they made her change. Without taking their eyes off her, they led her to the fifth-form cupboard where the cane was kept, and then to the stables for the lash.

I gave orders that the other girls were to be kept out of earshot for the afternoon. Not even the matrons were to be close by. As a further precaution, I closed the curtains and lit all the lamps, so that I might do as I chose without being spied upon.

Four of them brought Elaine to the study. As they marched her into the room, the girl began to struggle and curse. Fortunately they were a match for her but it was clear that she would cause havoc unless firmly strapped down. Master Miles had a sofa well-equipped for this purpose. The four matrons hoisted the struggling youngster on to its buttoned leather and forced her to kneel forward over the padded scroll at the end. Two of them held her in this position. The other two drew her arms down at full stretch and strapped her wrists firmly to the base of the heavy sofa-legs. Now she might curse and squirm to her heart's content, but she would not easily break free.

I ordered that a second pair of straps secure her upper arms, just above her elbows, to the fastenings of the fame. A stout belt round her waist pinned her down tightly on her belly over the scroll. When this was done, I thanked the burly ladies and they left me alone with the ruffianly girl.

My heart pounded harder still and my hands trembled a little. I could not believe I was about to do such things as I had in mind. You may be sure that Elaine, drawn forward over the heavy scroll by the straps, tossed back her spilling hair and turned the thin mouth and narrowed eyes of her slum-child's face upon me. The mouth was tight with fury.

The dark eyes with their fleck of green were narrowed with contempt.

It was delightful to have Elaine dressed as if for school in the white blouse, striped tie and the little skirt of pleated grey which was really too small for her. As she lay forward on her young belly over the scroll, the rear hem of the skirt was pulled higher still. Her robust pale thighs were quite bare. I met her anger again with a smile.

"Feeling in the mood to be caned, Elaine Cox? No? Let's take your little skirt off first. Such a very short skirt for a big forth-form girl!"

My hand fumbled at the waist as I undid it and drew it from her. Now I had this fifteen-year-old tomboy in her underpants. The elastic tightness of her white school knickers shaped the full swell of Elaine Cox's backside, broadened and fattened by her posture. She had struggled hard in the grip of the matrons. This had caused the elastic hem of her briefs to ride up at one side, laying bare a pale fattened crescent on the lower curve of that bottom-cheek! It was delightful to see her in this state of disordered undress. Though she was one of the bigger girls, it gave Elaine a suggestion of childish slovenliness, which was true to her character.

I greatly enjoyed undressing her. I took the tail of her uniform blouse and tucked it well up under the waist-strap. Elaine Cox's schoolgirl knickers had been worn a day or two and, by her tensing, I think she was a little self-conscious about this. It is far the best thing to punish a rebellious teenage girl of her sort in this manner, not giving her a chance to prepare. By all means let her feel uneasy at the blemishes she may reveal as she presents the seat of her knickers, tight and full, and then her rear view complete and bare! Chuckling at her, I took the waistband of her underpants. Then I stripped them down and off. I held them up for her to see. Mr. Snook's collecting mania seized me, for I saw in it the means of adding a certain moral enforcement to her punishment.

She tossed her lank hair clear and twisted her impudent face round, as I studied the swelling pallor of her bare rear cheeks. As any teacher might have done, I sat down on the sofa just behind her and inspected this profoundly exciting rear view of my adolescent tomboy. Prudently, I strapped her legs together just above her knees and pinioned her ankles. There was time to fondle the slight heaviness of her pale adolescent thighs. She gasped and cursed but I teased her in response.

"Presently I shall use the bamboo across your bare bottom, Elaine Cox. I'm going to enjoy it and I'm sure I shall have to unbutton myself and show you the proof of my pleasure while I thrash you. My only regret is that I didn't have the chance to begin with you a year or two ago."

I was already bursting in the tightness of my suiting and obliged to unbutton, in front of her, manhood fully armed.

"A big-bottomed fifth-form girl has to have a taste of it, Elaine!"

"No!" her refusal was part a gasp and part a cry. I heard the sofa-frame creak as she pulled vainly at her straps.

What a pleasure it was to hear the young ruffian pleading! I chuckled at this change in her tone.

"Get bottom-upwards over the sofa-scroll, Elaine Cox! Right over it! Tighter than that, you young scrubber!"

I smiled as I was confronted by the fattish adolescent pallor of Elaine's broadened buttocks. I gave her a sounding smack on the nearer cheek of her bare backside and then another lusty smack on the same one. The impact of my hand stung her enough to make her squirm and curse me in the foulest language imaginable. Even this was gratifying, in my present mood, and I avenged the insults by a little teasing.

"You'll get the reformatory cane afterwards, Elaine Cox. But first I must employ that impudent backside of yours for another purpose. This is what you shall feel behind you in a moment, Elaine! Have a good look at it, by all means."

As you read these lines, I daresay you fear for the dreadful consequences of law in which my lecherous desire must involve me. Before I punished the youngster, I was seized by the violence of brain-fever. To ease my stiffness by the exquisite tightness of Elaine Cox's bottom would be the most blatant criminal act. To discharge the warmth of my thick and slippery passion into the backside of this fifth form tomboy must be a felony worse than rapine. I knew there were judges and courts, prisons and gaolers, but I had allowed myself to enter that state where they were nothing to me. Profit by my errors, if you can!

I know you read these pages for idle amusement or perhaps through no less idle curiosity. Yet I hope they may serve also as a warning of the penalties which attend such unbridled desire as mine. Because I tell you the whole truth of my life's adventures, I cannot omit the vicissitudes I suffered. If you would have such things described in another way, you must turn to the writers of fiction and romance. I am not of their tribe.

Imagine, then, the scene in that room, the lamps shining brightly on the bare pallor of her sturdy hips, thighs and rear cheeks. The curtains drawn against the spring afternoon outside. I had no need to hurry my pleasures. I was master and my power was absolute. A punishment lesson is always a long affair. I could keep Elaine strapped kneeling over the leather scroll for the rest of the afternoon, all the evening, and long into the night, if I chose.

I sat down on the sofa just behind her and gave my close attention to Elaine Cox's ass-anatomy, her robust young thighs, and all that could be glimpsed between them. My fingers and my lips, even my tongue, were busy upon her rear aspect. It was a little after one o'clock in the afternoon when I sat down. I fondled and fiddled with her, reminding her humorously from time to time that this was the prelude to an ample pressing of warm gruel, with which I was going to nourish her insolent young backside. All this time she craned round at me, shaking the hair clear of her face at intervals, as if trying to watch me as I played with her. At first she swore at me and clenched her teeth but at length seemed to resign herself to what was going to happen.

I handled the full pallor of Elaine Cox's bottom-cheeks, parting them and prying into the rude rear valley between them. I ran my hands over her smooth bare thighs and pressed their softness apart to examine the intimate feminine flesh which they concealed. Having coaxed and kissed these warm folds, I allowed her firmly-strapped legs to close over it again. My lips touched the pale mounds of her broad young buttocks and browsed upon them. A dozen times I paused and gave her a vigorous smack on one of her bum cheeks to relieve my feelings.

My attention wandered to the heavy pallor of her young thighs, then to her broadened young backside once more. I parted its cheeks and enjoyed a long close inspection of the tightly-closed little blow-hole between them. Elaine uttered a sound of rejection in her throat and flinched as I applied a series of pouting kisses. Ignoring such protests', I rewarded her adolescent vulgarity with my own, settling down and applying my lips to her there in a long series of suggestive nuzzling kisses while her bottom-cheeks brushed my face as she tensed and squirmed. I was intrigued and delighted to find that even an insolent slum-girl like Elaine can be inspired with outrage and disgust when a man forces her to undergo such a wild form of attention as this!

I drew away from her at last and stood up. To my astonishment, it was now well after two o'clock. I had been busy with her for more than an hour! She watched me over her shoulder as I opened the Vaseline jar and prepared myself. Then her bare rear cheeks surged and squirmed unavailingly.

To curb this resistance, I smacked her broad young buttocks hard and repeatedly for a minute or two. It was not a severe discipline but the slaps on her bare hind cheeks made the echoes ring crisp and clear. She was squirming and panting by the time I finished. While she was still writhing from the last smack, I knelt behind her, pulling the tail of her white uniform blouse higher still so that I could look down and see what I was doing to her. The hammerhead knocked for admission at the tight rear portal.

"Lie right over the scroll, Elaine Cox!"

There were protests and a brief moment of shrillness. But my own determination was stronger than the power of her to resist. With a resolute thrust I felt the most delicious tightness entrap my swelling manhood. At once I pressed to the hilt and heard the sudden alarm in her exclamations. I made my triumphal ride with a steady rhythm-from time to time pausing, not wishing such enjoyment to be over too quickly. It was almost half an hour before I felt I could be denied no longer.

I could not endure to set down on paper the wild folly which I heard myself cry out in my ecstasy. You may be sure that I gasped out to her "Elaine!... Elaine!... Elaine, darling... Darling Elaine... Tighten on the shaft, Elaine!" and also "You fat-assed little whore, Elaine Cox!... You shall have plenty of this for the future!... Bottom-upwards over the scroll, Elaine Cox!" For I was quite out of my senses as I discharged my piece, determined only mat it should be in the very depths of her young backside.

Slowly, very slowly indeed, there dawned upon me the horror of what I had done and the penalties attaching to such an offence if it should ever come to court. I was not sure but I believed that the phrase "penal servitude for life" might be uttered in a case of this kind. Like a man of sense I had discharged the salvo of passion in Elaine Cox's bottom to avoid the scandal of a swollen belly. Alas, the law allows no credit for such discretion! At first, however, I was still too far gone in excitement even to consider such a thing.

With cautious squeezings, the youngster expelled the deflated serpent, whose fleshy bulk had provoked such unlady-like feelings in her behind. It lolled across her bare seat and left a snail-trail of expiring passion upon the pale cheeks of Elaine Cox's tomboy backside.

Almost two hours had passed since she was put over the sofa. It was time to pick up the supple cane with which she was to receive the first of several punishments.

"Now I must discipline you, Elaine," I said, "You shall have the cane first of all. Then I'll leave you over the scroll for an hour. After that you'll get a bare-bottomed lesson with the pony-lash. I'll teach you manners, Elaine Cox! I'll have obedience from you! You shall have another afternoon lesson in a few weeks' time. It shall be a double one."

Though she had twisted the broad oval of her impudent young face round, the resentment in Elaine's thin mouth and narrowed eyes seemed to falter, for she guessed my meaning.

"The sofa padding is wide enough, Elaine. You and your big sister shall be over it side by side. Your bare flanks will be pressed together and you shall feel each other squirm under discipline. I'll have such obedience from the pair of you before I finish! Imagine the commands you shall be given!"

The tail of her white blouse had slipped down a little. I tucked it up and flexed the cane.

There is an art in applying the bamboo to a sturdy youngster of this kind. I tried to copy the example of Master Miles. Without any preliminary, I brought the light swishy cane down hard as I could, aiming low. The pale cheek swell of such an adolescent schoolgirl bottom is a fine target. I caught Elaine Cox beautifully, not an inch above the light flesh-crease dividing her seat-cheeks and upper thighs. Her gasp rose to a short cry as the smart of the impact swelled.

"Lie tighter over the scroll, Elaine Cox!"

In my satisfaction, the second smack of the cane caught the youngster just where the first had done, low down on the cheeks of her behind. I had never used the implement before and was gratified to hear the bamboo sing out sharp as the crack of a ringmaster's whip, low across the pale fatness of Elaine Cox's fifteen-year-old buttocks. The girl's lank fair hair swept upon her shoulders as she turned her snub-nosed face. I guessed those two swelling and burning imprints of the bamboo must be smarting dreadfully across her bare schoolgirl bum-cheeks.

Elaine was gnawing compulsively at her lower lip as she waited for the next one. Her narrowed dark eyes with their fleck of green betrayed the first sign of dismay. She looked at the cane in my hand and then with alarm and renewed fascination at the returning stiffness of unbuttoned manhood. Many a teacher who thrashed her in this manner might find satisfaction in showing Elaine Cox his tool as he did so. Since her school knickers were taken down and she showed herself bare, what greater scandal could there be in the man unbuttoning and displaying himself in front of her while he carried out the discipline? She looked and gnawed anxiously at her lower lip. I could see her hands clenching into desperate fists and her rear cheeks shifting and tensing.

I touched the cane lightly and teasingly to the raised weals already inflicted.

"I shall begin your punishment presently, Elaine. First you must have a taste of the bamboo to put you in a more responsive mood for chastisement. Twelve strokes to prepare you?"

There was a gasp of dismay and a yell of protest which ended in a cry as the bamboo whistled and smacked down. She had six across that lower curve of her behind and it became necessary to chide her shrillness.

"Come now, Elaine! I'm sure that didn't hurt in the least! Why, you told the others that the caning on justices' night was only a fleabite for a big girl like you. Ah, it startles you to know that I heard you say so?"

She had thought me a milksop, I suppose. Now there was a frantic look of realisation in her eyes.

"A session with the cane across the backs of those bare tomboy thighs, Elaine! You're not a junior girl any longer. You must expect a few extra strokes high on the backs of your legs."

I gave her four and I thought she would burst my eardrums by way of retaliation.

"You promised the other girls that on justices' night you stuck your young ass right out, Elaine Cox, and farted in the faces of the magistrates to defy them. Have I conquered your insolence so easily?"

The face she turned showed a downward howling mouth and eyes brimming over. I touched the cane aslant her squirming buttocks and gave her six cuts, this way and that. The full bare cheeks of Elaine Cox's bottom now surged and writhed so far as her straps permitted, like the rear view of a belly-dancer.

"In the mood for your tanning now, Elaine?"

There was another wild protest and one heard the squeak of strained leather as she squirmed unavailingly in her straps. In imitation of Mr. Miles, I caned her low down, then aslant, and then upon the crowns of her rear cheeks. By the time it was over, you would think that it was a chastened and tearful junior schoolgirl over the sofa scroll and not a loud bullying fifth-form hoyden.

As I had promised, I made her wait over the scroll for an hour. However, I placed the short pony-lash of woven snakeskin where she could see it. By a strict interpretation of the rules, she was not yet eligible to receive it. However, such a girl as Elaine may safely be excepted from these provisions. During much of that hour, I perched on the sofa behind her and closely surveyed my handiwork, inflicted with the bamboo.

I was so engrossed with the youngster that the hour seemed to pass in no time at all. I adjusted the strap around her waist so that Elaine was held more tightly forward over the padded scroll and her hind cheeks drawn apart somewhat more. Obliged to offer her rear view so completely, she was quite desperate when I picked up the short lash of woven snakeskin.

It must be a matter of debate whether strapping such a girl down is either beneficial or necessary. However, it would have been impossible to make Elaine Cox submit by any other means to what she was going to get now. Even had she been properly reduced to obedience, there would have been a difficulty. I wished her to be right over the scroll, so that the cheeks of her young backside were broadened and parted for her chastisement by the lash. She could not possibly have endured it unless firmly held down by the leather straps.

I can assure you that she was unable to take her eyes off me as I picked up the pony-whip from the table and drew the woven lash through my fingers. But first I was obliged to kneel behind her on the sofa. She yelled in fury and dismay but the hammerhead demanded admission at the tight rear loophole. She cursed heartily, squirmed her legs and would have spat at me, I thought. But I felt the thrill of her bum's elastic tightness passing over die smooth knob. My brain was afire at the thought of the extra pressing of passion which Elaine must soon receive in her impudent young backside.

When it was over, I returned to my duty. Even now it would be indiscreet of me to give a description of the half hour which followed. The design of the pony-whip was such that it was calculated to bring the most rebellious filly to obedience with half a dozen strokes. Elaine was able to take twenty-four, though it was I who decided mat she was able to bear them, not she. Each time, the black snake of the lash cracked in the air and landed with a smack mat made the walls sing. It was impossible to prevent the fine tail at the tip of the lash finding its way between Elaine Cox's buttocks. Nor did one wish to do so. The result was to teach her a lesson she would remember always. The whip also cut her low down where the bamboo prints were raised and throbbing tenderly. The results of this are better imagined than described!

I fortified her as necessary by the little bottle of salts applied to her nostrils, for I believe the tanning went on beyond the allotted number somewhat. It will not astonish you that Elaine Cox showed every kind of rudeness while her backside was under the whip. I did not allow this to interfere with the course of justice. By the time I had finished with her, there was still leisure before the dinner hour for the girl to remove a blemish or two from the buttoned leather of the sofa and polish it well.

I daresay you envy me the power I enjoyed. Would it surprise you to know that the minute the girl had been led away, I was seized by the chill of fear? What I had done had fired me with madness at the time I did it. Now, in the cool light of reflection, I was appalled by my conduct. By examining Elaine Cox's young ass, would it not be possible for a matron to see that something had been where it should not have been? If that were discovered, what could save me from penal servitude for life?

Do not imagine I gloated over my triumph that evening. I started up at every footfall, sure that it was the constable who had just been summoned by Mrs. Gedge or the others. As for the whipping, I had done it with such severity and in such circumstances as might lose me my post. I almost wept at the ruin which now threatened me.

How could I have been guilty of such criminal folly in my conduct that afternoon? Was I nothing but a walking penis-or a man led by his prick-that I must give way to the first impulse? For ten minutes of the tightness of a fifth-form girl's behind on my stiffness, I risked a lifetime in a prison cell, gruel to eat and oakum to pick. For those few seconds of feeling my passion shoot warm and slippery in the depths of Elaine Cox's bottom, I had thrown my life away.

Was I wrong? Would you not have thought the same in such a moment of self-reproach? In the moments when my mood lightened, I thought perhaps I might not be convicted of tailing Elaine Cox. But one look at her young backside would show that its cheeks had been disciplined with the snakeskin pony-lash. I daresay that such a thing would not bring me to court. At the least, however, it would mean my dismissal from office. Mr. Miles could not save me-and would not wish to. Mr. Bradford and Lord Frederick would feel only that I had betrayed their trust by punishing Elaine Cox so sadistically.

In truth, I had not much to fear from having used the lash on her. It was my other conduct which would get me dismissed and confined behind prison bars.

A week or two passed. There was no policeman at the gate with a warrant for my arrest. I began to think myself safe. I decided there was evidence enough to damn me already, if I were caught. I might do as I chose for the future and be no worse off. So I had Pauline and Elaine bare bottomed, strapped side by side over the sofa scroll. Pauline's ass was plumper, Elaine's full and sturdy, there being several years between them. Yet the bottoms of the two girls in the same family have a similar anatomy. Each sex had its fondling and each rear tightness had a stretching. The cane for Pauline's fat buttocks and then for Elaine, a taste of the lash for each as well. I was stern and lascivious with them by turn that afternoon. I assure you I was never so excited in my life.

After Mr. Miles returned, I still summoned Elaine on those evenings when I was weary of Kim or Jacqueline. It will not surprise you to hear that dawn streaked the sky before she left my room. Her skirt removed. I made her lie with her back to me, I lying further down the bed, my face level with her hips. She submitted because it suited her to be known as a girl who had the under-master in her power. I let her wear her white school blouse, the striped tie, and the white socks which came up to the top of her calves. But I began by easing down the stretched white cotton of Elaine's uniform knickers. Leisurely, I fondled the slight adolescent heaviness of her robust bare thighs, kissing and lipping them. My attention dwelt upon the youngster's nestling sex between them. I grew as familiar with the anatomy of Elaine Cox's fifth-form ass as with the lines of my own hand. I know every swelling shape of its sturdy young tomboy cheeks-every posture of their curving and parting-as she tensed them to check herself or shifted, or turned over a little on to her belly. My eyes and hands, in the well-lit room, fondled and explored the full pallor of Elaine's bottomcheeks and the rude valley which ran between.

She knew what was expected of her. When I murmured me command, she would turn over more on to her belly, tossing back her lank fair hair and looking round to watch me all the time. She would pull the tail of her blouse up higher as she did so. I think was not for fear of getting Vaseline upon it, but in order that I might see her backside properly while I did it to her. Indeed, I liked to look down and see what I was doing to Elaine Cox's big schoolgirl bottom. My pleasure was partly the excitement of the moment but also the knowledge that my release would be thick and fast in the depths of Elaine's young backside. The exhilarating tightness of her behind on the muzzle made one's head swim. An entire county constabulary would not have dissuaded me then as I pumped to and fro, breathless from such exertion. , You do not expect romantic passion from such a girl. When I rode her, Elaine would turn her impudent face with a knowing leer on her thin lips-the only way she knew how to greet a man. I confess I was mighty glad I had chosen this way. The quantity of passion spent in those few weeks would have sired half a village of bastard children had it not fallen on hot infertile ground!

I thought I had chosen well. A vulgar youngster like Elaine does not go to her betters and complain that she has had a man behind her. Nor does she object to a lashing across her bare backside with a pony-whip. All these things raise her in the esteem of the other girls. If she would be bully of the reformatory, she must accept them. I took advantage of this and made her do so. Twice in those three weeks, I made Elaine have a bare-bottomed session with the spanking-strap and once with the cane! At night I went quite mad, making her take two and even three doses of love's gruel. I thought I might be safe with such a girl. If I was not, it was too late to turn back now.

I suppose it was early in July when old Joshua came to me one afternoon. He presented Mr. Miles' compliments and told me that the master requested my presence in his drawing-room with the least delay.

I went at once and entered with a light heart. Then I saw that the master had a visitor, Inspector Trotter of the county constabulary. He and Mr. Miles regarded me with faces of doom. The dark storm of scandal was about to burst.

"Inspector Trotter," the master said, "Mr. Trotter is here on a matter of the gravest concern to us both. He is obliged to make an arrest."

CHAPTER EIGHT - Summer Tempests

With a clutch of ice upon the heart, I felt the presence of retribution. Despair, like an Homeric cloud, descended upon me. Only the thought that Trotter must have posted his men at the gate prevented me from turning and running in stark fear from the room. The sunlit day beyond the window seemed to darken as if prison walls already closed about me. My superior turned to me with a face which had aged ten years in as many minutes.

"I fear," said Master Miles, "some dreadful malice is at work. Mr. Trotter has warrants to execute an arrest. I shall prepare myself to accompany him."

I was sure at first that I must have misunderstood him. Looking again, I saw that the tragic contraction of his gruff but noble face was for his own downfall-not mine. But my own respite was short-lived. Inspector Trotter, dark suited and carrying his hat in his hand, stepped forward to me.

"There are charges against you both, Mr. Under-Master. Accusations of indecently stripping and whipping the girls in your care. They are laid on an information by Lady Shorter of Ball's Park in the next county. I fear you must answer them before the judge of assize."

It was all over with me, then. I scarcely attended to die inspector's words as he turned back to Mr. Miles.

"I cannot say, Master Miles, how sorry I am that you should have been maligned in this manner. You know me, sir. I would never speak ill of a member of the aristocracy, if it could be helped. But let Lady Shorter be hanged from the nearest tree with a hot poker up her belly to keep her dancing! It is a lighter punishment than the interfering old sow deserves!"

I was taken aback by the force of the inspector's emotion, not knowing that he loathed the old bitch as greatly as anyone might. In a gesture of consolation, he clasped Mr. Miles bravely round the shoulders and urged him to play the man. Wiping away a chivalrous tear, Mr. Trotter turned to me.

"Your master has the heart of a lion, sir. He shall come safe through! Depend upon it! He is sound and brave as die oak trees of Old England!"

At this tribute, Mr. Miles made a trumpet of his nose and blew into his handkerchief a clarion blast of strong feeling.

"It is not the reward I had looked for, Mr. Trotter!" he gasped presently, "To be paraded like a common felon, after a life spent in the service of justice and reforming young whores!"

"A scandal, sir!" said Trotter gently. He chinked a handful of coins in his pocket, as a man does when a good-tempered financial transaction has taken place. I saw a wash bag, in which the master kept a small supply of gold sovereigns for ready money. Now it was lying empty upon the sideboard.

"It is not what I deserve, Mr. Trotter!" said Mr. Miles bravely, "It is a gross calumny and a plain injustice. The nation expects that I should inflict sound and wholesome chastisement upon the young sluts who come to this place!"

Mr. Trotter was vehement in his support for this opinion.

"Depend upon it, master. We of the constabulary are true servants of such justices as yourself-nay, we are your friends!" Here he chinked his pocketful a little more. "Let us find the name of any little bitch who has made trouble and gone whining to Lady Shorter! We shall have such things done to her as shall make the little whore curse the womb that brought her into the world to endure them! There are several felonies long unsolved in this county. They want names fitting to 'em! Be sure, if things go badly for you, sir, we shall know what to do! I undertake that two of die bitches, at least, shall swing with a noose round their necks. We shall use the old-fashioned gallows in the county gaol. There shall be no trap-door for the young tarts! Their necks shall be stretched nice and slow. The rest of the little scrubbers shall go to the penitentiary for ten or fifteen years. There shall be a reckoning master! The police of this county do not forget their old obligations easily!"

"And if I should come safe back," said Mr. Miles softly, "any young whore who has made trouble shall wish she might have choked in the neck-cracker's noose rather then receive what I shall give her!"

All this put a little heart into me. It was good to find that the police, at any rate, were loyal fellows and entirely on our side. Yet nothing was said of my fate by Inspector Trotter. I was uneasily aware that I lacked the little store of sovereigns which Mr. Miles always kept at hand for emergencies of this sort.

All the same, Inspector Trotter was kind and most obliging to me. It was necessary mat we should accompany him to the police-office and that the reformatory should be put in the care of Mrs. Gedge and the matrons for the time being. Do not imagine that he haled us off in a prison-van! There was a decent carriage with buttoned leather and comfortable springs. Yet our arrival at the police-office reminded me that we were to be arraigned as criminals at last and that our freedom had gone.

Inspector Trotter could not bring himself to read die charges out and it was done by another officer, Mr. Shea from Dublin. Yet even he almost faltered and blubbered over the words.

"Forgive me, your honor," he murmured to Mr. Miles, when the reading was done, "It is a black day that obliges me to recite a catalogue of scurrility against such a fine gentleman as yourself!"

"It is your duty, my good fellow," said the master bravely, "I hold no grudge against a man who does his duty!"

Worse was to follow. It was necessary that we should appear before the grand jury and be remanded, either upon bail or, as was more likely in such a case, in custody. Lady Shorter had retained Lawyer Bragg to appear for the prosecution, a scrawny old devil with rheumy eyes and a mean face like a bog house rat's. But what was worse, Lady Shorter herself looked on from the public bench in the courtroom. She was the very type I had imagined. Her eyes were small and dark as a pig's, her face red and pustular. I promise you that her animus against the male sex was caused entirely by the shrinking away from her which was every man's response. She was well named, being both short and stocky as a collier with legs that might have served for a pair of bowling pins.

It was a dreadful moment. I stood with Master Miles in the dock under the guard of two constables. To be sure they were decent fellows who privately wished us well but they dared not show it in court. I was pleased that the master arranged for each of them to be sent an entire ham and six quart flagons of ale from his private store.

The court rose and the justices entered. They were strangers to me and looked upon us with distaste. Lawyer Bragg got up and presented the case against us, concluding with a demand that we should be held in custody until our trial. I looked in vain for the friendly presence of Mr. Bowler or even old Mr. Snook. There was not a sign of them.

It was Inspector Trotter who saved us from a prison cell then and there. He rose and announced that the police had no objection to our being bailed.

"There can be no need for custody," he added, "in the case of two such reputable and substantial gentlemen as these. We are not dealing here, my lords, with the criminal class."

Lawyer Bragg, scrawny and gleaming-eyed, got to his feet.

"If they are guilty, my lords, as the evidence will show, then they are indeed of the criminal class and must be treated accordingly." Lady Shorter uttered a grunting and snorting of pleasure at this riposte.

The two justices conferred briefly and remanded us upon bail of fifty pounds each. It was a vast sum but better than a month in a cell awaiting trial. The truth was that the two justices, though strangers to us, did not care to see members of their own class treated as common felons.

I cannot convey to you the intensity of mental anguish during the weeks of waiting which preceded our main trail. It was a condition of bail that Mr. Miles and I should confine ourselves to the front courtyard and have no contact with the girls. How bitterly I now regretted my imprudent conduct with Elaine Cox and the others! How could I have thrown away my reputation and my position for those brief moments of illicit enjoyment? I almost wept as I wished I had ruled myself to the strictest and most circumspect behaviour with them.

Night after night I woke, starting from sleep, and imagined the evidence the court would hear! It chilled my blood as I listened to it in my mind. The details of those private punishment-sessions, with Elaine Cox bare-bottomed over the study sofa, would be known to the world. There had also been several afternoons of discipline with Jane Mitchener, the youngest of the girls. A cold perspiration bedewed my brow as I imagined the story she or Sally Fenton would tell the judges. To my greater horror I realized that the little tarts might be examined by some lecherous old doctor of Lady Snorter's acquaintance. He would surely find the fading imprints of the snakeskin lash on the cheeks of Elaine Cox's fifth-form bottom. He might allege that young Jane Mitchener's rear port had been regularly stretched or her virginity compromised.

These were not indiscretions but downright felonies. I faced certain ruin and many years in a convict prison, dining on oatmeal and working the treadmill! How I wished I had remained a humble bailiff and married some apple-cheeked wench to raise a brood of children. To what purpose were the fine wines and succulent food if they were to bring me to such a fate as this?

Mr. Marclipole, a decent fellow enough but no great orator, was appointed for our defense. The day drew close upon which we were to appear for trial and judgment. Perhaps the worst thing was that Mr. Bowler, Mr. Snook, and those who were our friends seemed entirely to have deserted us. So fickle, I concluded, was all human friendship and fidelity.

I know you do not read these pages merely in order to hear a recital of woes and the rehearsal of a catastrophe. Let me come to the point and the great event. You have perhaps read the accounts as they appeared in the newspapers, day after day. But those reports convey nothing of the ordeal of we poor devils who stood in the dock to undergo the rigors of the law.

We surrendered to the friendly custody of Inspector Trotter and the court bailiffs on the morning of the trial. But a far worse piece of news now came to our ears.

"A great misfortune has befallen Mr. Bowler," the inspector murmured, as we waited to be called into court, "The noble gentleman has also had trouble made for him by a young trollop called Noreen."

I remembered the picture of her which Lord Cyr had shown me, Noreen the well built girl of nineteen with the resolute insolence of her fair-skinned features and the collar length of her lank dark hair.

"For some offence of hers," the inspector added, "Mr. Bowler chose to tickle the bare cheeks of Noreen's bottom with his Havana. In revenge she found some means of communicating with Lady Shorter's spies. The Lord Chancellor was informed that illegal disciplines were being inflicted in this county. He has appointed his confidant, Lord Stifton, to undertake an inquiry. This trial today will not be the end of the matter."

I was sorry for Mr. Bowler's trouble, you may be sure, and I saw that the trial was not the worst that might befall me. Yet when I was driven away to prison at the end of the day-which I knew must be the outcome-I supposed that Lord Stifton would have no business with me.

The court of assize was an awesome place with its menacing ritual and its solemn judges in their wigs and robes. Lady Shorter settled her monstrous rump on a seat in the public gallery with a pair of sharp nosed cronies. None of them took their eyes from us for a moment. Lawyer Bragg rose and addressed the court. He spoke of girls strapped down for punishment, their clothes removed by the lecherous hands of Mr. Miles and myself. He whispered of adolescent privacy touched and exposed, of rear cheeks fondled and parted. My face burnt with blushes at hearing these accusations made against me in this public place. The scribblers of the pestilential radical newspapers wrote down the details with pencils that flew across the paper. In a day or two the entire nation would hear of my disgrace.

Lady Shorter gave several pig-like snorts of satisfaction as she listened to this recital. Then the cadaverous old attorney spoke of punishments with canes and birches. He grew warm as he described the birch cuts marking Sally Fenton's young bottom and the ruby trickles that ran down. His voice trembled when he pictured the taut resilience of Jane Mitchener's backside, its cheeks branded across and across by the bamboo.

In all this I saw but one ray of hope. I had waited for the worst, to hear him speak of such little indiscretions as my own with Elaine Cox over the sofa. And yet he said nothing of them. The ray was faint, however. Even without such evidence, the punishments he now described sounded like the gravest of moral crimes.

Lawyer Bragg was detailing the events of justices' night-how Kim Roberts had been strapped over the block and her knickers taken down by the master's own hands, touching her bum-cheeks and the private areas of her thighs. The senior judge of assize, Lord Justice Crouch, listened to all this with a sneer. Then he leant forward in his white wig and scarlet robes.

"Oblige me, Mr. Attorney, by refreshing my memory. When criminals are to be whipped, how is it that they are made to present themselves to the lash and not to attack their chastisers?"

"Why," said the cadaverous old lawyer, "the turnkey straps 'em down."

"Indeed, he does, Mr. Attorney! How else should they keep still for him?"

Lawyer Bragg saw his error too late, but he was a game old fellow.

"There comes next the matter of taking down the girls' knickers, my lord!" Lord Justice Crouch sniggered once more.

"Refresh me again, sir!" he sneered, "Girls' knickers have elastic waistbands, eh?"

"If your lordship pleases," said Bragg.

"Then, damme, Mr. Attorney! They won't fall down of their own accord! Eh? They must be took down! Took down, man! Eh? So long as the law of gravity prevails, they must be took down. And what's to take 'em down if not the hand of the chastiser?"

Lady Shorter's mouth fell open with indignation at this manner of treating her lawyer. But the intemperate old sow had no power over a judge. Bragg mumbled something about the indecency of bare-bottomed girls presenting themselves to the master.

"Would you have them dressed in starched petticoats and a bustle-or an evening gown and a fur coat?" asked the second judge, Lord Justice Friskitt, grinning hugely. The entire court obliged him by laughing at this specimen of judicial wit. Even the ushers snorted a little behind their hands to ingratiate themselves with him.

"Private parts exposed, m'lud," Bragg muttered awkwardly, "Between the legs and the hind cheeks. Gross immorality."

The smiles faded from the faces of the judges and they gazed sternly upon him. Lord Justice Scroat spoke for them.

"When a pupil at one of our great schools-let it be Eton or Harrow, the nurseries of empire-is birched, are the parts bare or clothed?"

"Bare an't please your lordships," said Bragg desperately, "But, m'lud...."

"There shall be no buts here!" snapped Lord Crouch, "You have the damnable effrontery, sir, to malign the great schools of the land with gross immorality! Have a care that you are not reported for contempt of this court! Our prime ministers and lord chancellors and bishops, in their boyhood, have been trained in discipline by the methods you now attack. And do you dare accuse them as partners in gross immorality? The immorality, sir, is all in your mind. Where you see vice, Mr. Attorney, an honest man sees only wholesome correction."

What a turn of events this proved to be! My spirits rose as I listened to this defence of England and her laws by the noble judges.

"M'lud," said Bragg wretchedly, "The culprits stripped and chastised by the defendants were of the other sex. They were girls held in the reformatory."

"Oh, indeed!" Lord Justice Crouch rolled his eyes humorously at the court in mocking admiration of such an argument. "You have a fine sense of decorum, Mr. Attorney, that you feel more respect towards a bunch of young whores than you do to the bench of bishops and the houses of parliament. What if they are girls, you fool? Ain't they got arses that can be thrashed just the same?"

At this there was a brief commotion in the public gallery. Lady Shorter had fainted clean away and her maid was applying the smelling bottle to nostrils which would better have graced a farmyard. Old Lawyer Bragg's face crumpled a little, as if he might weep.

"If it please your lordships! The private parts between the girls' legs was shown and the indecency between their buttocks!"

Lord Justice Scroat was ready for this.

"To be sure, Mr. Bragg! If a dirty young slut chooses to open her legs while she is tanned, or stick her rump out, the world cannot help but see. Let her only remain tight and decent-where is the offence? You call such exposure the fault of the chastiser? It is the young scrubber herself who does it!"

Bragg seemed panic-stricken and even Lady Shorter glared at him now.

"My lords! The defendants showed, by word and gesture, that they enjoyed what they did to these unfortunate young girls!"

The smiles again faded from the faces of the judges.

"Mr. Attorney!" said Lord Friskitt sharply, "It will be a black day for England when a man is condemned because he enjoys doing his duty. I begin to suspect, sir, that you show too little moral sense in matters of such delicacy as this."

Lord Scroat started to mutter as well.

"He has a smell about him of contempt of this court, my brother judges!"

They put their wigged and learned heads together on their bench high above the court. After a moment it was Lord Crouch, the senior, who addressed the wretched Lawyer Bragg.

"We have had enough of this trumpery, Mr. Attorney. You may call your witnesses, supposing that you have any to call."

My heart began to sink again. The justices had dealt admirably with Bragg's opening address but I feared the story which the girls would now tell. Lord Crouch and his legal brothers had shown themselves most friendly. But if the court was told of Sally Fenton's cunt finely tickled or Elaine Cox's teenage arsehole stretched hard on a man's tool, the master and I were doomed.

They called Sally first. The girl appeared with her curls and high-boned prettiness. Lord Crouch leant forward to her with a smile.

"A word with you, my pretty girl, before your examination in chief. Should you like to go back to the reformatory and your master?"

Sally blushed a little and hesitated. Lord Crouch tried her again.

"Would you rather be committed to serve your sentence in a convict penitentiary where you might be more securely imprisoned?"

Cheeky Sally's eyes clouded with dismay. Lord Crouch smiled at her.

"Answer me this, Sally. Has your master always treated you kindly. And has his under-master always done so?" She hesitated and then replied. "Yes, sir."

"Have they chastised you only as you deserve, for your own good?"

Sally looked at Lawyer Bragg, but he could not help her.

"Yes, sir."

"And you do not complain of it?"

One could see that she badly wanted to complain. But how could she, having said she deserved it? Sally gave up the battle.

"No, sir. I never meant to complain."

Lady Shorter gave a tragic cry and fainted away again.

"And you do not wish to be locked away in the penitentiary?"

"Oh, no, sir! Please, I don't, sir!"

"Then you wish to return to the reformatory and be under the instruction of your kind master, Mr. Miles and his assistant. Is that so?"

"Yes, sir." The words from the witness-box were so hushed that one could scarcely catch them. The promise of the penitentiary had changed her mind!

"And when you agreed to come here today and give evidence, it was not to attack Mr. Miles or the under-master, was it? You wished only to tell the truth."

"Oh yes, sir. Only that."

A cheeky little imp like Sally Fenton is no match for such age and experience. She saw soon enough which side was winning and which was losing. Who could blame the youngster for slipping into the ranks of the victors?

"You may examine your witness, Mr. Bragg," Lord Crouch said at last.

"My lord, I have nothing to ask beyond what your lordship has so felicitously elicited from the witness."

Even Lawyer Bragg had changed sides, it seemed. Lady Shorter glowered upon him for this treason.

Jane Mitchener was called next. After Sally's performance, the girl could do little but answer the same questions from Lord Justice Crouch in the same manner. Once again Lawyer Bragg declined to examine the girl himself.

"Your next witness then, Mr. Attorney, if you please."
The old lawyer got to his feet, his mouth twisted and sour.

"I shall not delay your lordships with further evidence. I have no more witnesses to call."

Lord Justice Scroat gave an angry little chuckle.

"Why, then, sir, I cannot see what case there is for the defendants to answer!"

"They have been too kind to the young reformatory strumpets!" shouted Lord Friskitt merrily, "That is perhaps what the attorney objects to!"

There was a burst of laughter from the court at this and the scarlet-robed judges rolled in their seats until I thought their wigs might have tumbled off.

"The prosecution have been caught bending!" roared Judge Crouch with tears of laughter running down his fat red face.

"But we have got to die bottom of 'em!" bellowed Lord Scroat.

How long this hullabaloo might have lasted I cannot say. There was such play upon the jokes of being caught bending or getting to the bottom of the thing or bouquets of birch and the joys of whipped cream that I thought they would never have finished. When the din subsided, Mr. Marclipole rose for the first time and spoke on our behalf.

"If your lordships please," he said, "I submit with the greatest respect that, in the light of what has passed here this morning, there is no case for my clients to answer."

"Of course there isn't!" said Lord Justice Scroat impatiently, "Anyone but a fool might have seen that at the start. What this country needs is more tanning not less-more young trollops under the lash, not fewer! Travel the circuit as I do and you would see the sluts with their pumped up bellies, parading their shame! Feckless randy young whores! Never fear that the judiciary will shrink from supporting men who do their duty as Mr. Miles and his under-master have done theirs."

"Of course there isn't a case to answer," added Lord Friskitt.

"Course there ain't," said Lord Crouch, "Adjourn for lunch, if you please."

"My lord!" Mr. Marclipole was respectfully delaying them, "Costs, if you please! Costs for my clients and against the prosecutor."

"Allowed in full!" said Lord Justice Crouch and slammed his gavel down. Though it was just past eleven in the morning and early for lunch, their lordships had no objection to passing an hour in their paneled adjournment room, sampling the madeira brought in from the cellars of the Bull tavern opposite.

It was almost beyond belief that the great ordeal had ended so rapidly and with such a total vindication of our characters. There is nothing like being acquitted in a court of law for boosting a man's own self-esteem. No matter what he may have done, the law has pronounced him a fine fellow and an honest citizen. The acts for which he has been arraigned are legitimized by the process, whether he has admitted or denied them. To roger pretty Sally or ass-exercise young Jane Mitchener was now a most respectable undertaking, for the law condoned it. As for taking down their knickers and chastising them, the bench of learned judges had denounced as seditious and contemptible any man who tried to interfere with the practice.

All the same, you are not to suppose that Master Miles and I rushed back to the reformatory and vented our feelings upon the girls. After the first moments of euphoria on such an occasion, a man quickly becomes sober again. We were content to enjoy an excellent lunch at the Bull in the company of our attorney, Mr. Marclipole, who assured us that the expense would be borne by the costs awarded against our prosecutors.

More properly, I might call them our persecutors for the storm was not yet past.

"Lord Stifton is to begin his inquiry in a day or two," Mr. Marclipole informed us, "You will be the objects of it, as will our good friend Mr. Bowler. The Lord Chancellor's commission empowers Lord Stifton to require from you all papers and documents. He must have access to all persons and places necessary in his investigation."

"It is an invidious business," I said bitterly, "It is not like a court where a man is accused and may defend himself. This is all behind closed doors and in private discussions. It is a star chamber or an inquisition, sir. I call it an affront to the English sense of justice."

Mr. Marclipole sighed.

"It may be so, Mr. Under-Master. But it is an evil we must bear just the same. You have the advantage of your acquittal this morning in support of your character. Alas, poor Mr. Bowler must endure the brunt of his lordship's inquiry over the little matter of Noreen and the touching up."

"It is a scandal," said Mr. Miles, "that a man of such public eminence and respectability as Mr. Bowler should be subjected to harassment of this kind. I call it unfeeling and vindictive of the Lord Chancellor to sanction it."

Mr. Marclipole could offer us little comfort, except to observe that if we should come safely through Lord Stifton's inquiry, then we were secure for life. We might have as many girls as we wished and deal with them as we chose. Neither Lady Shorter nor any other busybody would be able to interfere.

It was something to console oneself with these thoughts. All the same, we returned to the reformatory and to the summer afternoon in the flowery courtyard with mixed feelings. It was during dinner that Mrs. Gedge came to us in a great fluster with a message. Lord St if ton would arrive next morning to begin his investigation of us. Rooms were to be made ready for him and his stay was to be of indefinite duration.

How rashly, it seemed, had we celebrated our triumph over Lady Shorter. True, we had been the victors in court but her ladyship's influence was known throughout the labyrinth of politics and society. It was likely that Lord Stifton would prove to be one of her creatures. Having failed to win in open and honest combat, she would now resort to intrigue and underhand dealing.

That night I was chaste as a monk in his convent cell. Not for one moment did I consider summoning Kim Roberts or Elaine Cox or any other girl from the room beyond mine. With the trial ended I imagined myself spending the night in Roman splendor with several girls at once. The new danger made that imprudent and, to speak the truth, took away all appetite for it.

The next morning, the day of Lord Stifton's arrival, was one of blue haze and summer heat, a buzz of insects, and a sweet scent of brown August hay from the fields surrounding us. The very air seemed full of the promise of harvest.

I poured myself a glass of dark, still ale for breakfast but had little stomach for food. In the hour or two which followed, I loitered about and tried to appear unconcerned. Yet my eyes turned to the gateway at every sound of a carriage. At last there was a set of wheels which halted at the lodge and the keeper drew back the great iron bolts. A smart olive green conveyance rolled through and stopped at the master's own door. The polished coachwork, the liveried driver, and the two bay geldings in their glossy coats all bespoke the wealth and influence of our visitor.

I waited with growing impatience to see if I should be called upon to meet me man who would sit in judgment upon us. An hour passed and it was almost time for lunch. Then old Joshua appeared and I received the summons. With a weight like lead in my stomach and legs that moved most unwillingly, I climbed to the master's drawing-room. The door was opened and I came face to face with the Rhadamanthus upon whom our fates now depended.

What do you suppose I found?

There in the best and most comfortable chair sat a languid young fellow of my own age with the slimmest and longest legs you ever saw, clad in the most expensive oatmeal suiting of his Bond Street tailor. He had his feet on the table and the polish of his boots was such that you might almost have shaved in them. He held a glass of hock and seltzer in one hand, a fragrant cheroot in the other. His face was a study in youth and amiability with blond whiskers and an easy mouth, eyes that twinkled and the tall brow of nobility.

Lord Stifton rose and shook my hand. Then he sat down again, put his feet on the table and crossed his legs. He drew deep on his cigar and tapped ash into the bowl. He looked from one to the other of us, and I saw that a merry smile was plucking at his lips.

"Now then," he said in his easy manner, "what's all this nonsense about old Bowler? Hey?"

CHAPTER NINE - Lord Stifton

You can be no more surprised than I was to find that the Lord Chancellor's representative was this agreeable young fellow with such easy manners and a disposition to make light of the allegations against us. Though the master and I had been acquitted of the criminal charges, I did not for one moment doubt that the reformatory and all its private matters would be subject to the most rigorous scrutiny. In my mind I had pictured Lord Stifton as a venerable old jurist with frowning brow and inquisitorial voice. I supposed he would be a puritan of the most vindictive sort who would put the worst construction on all our actions. In truth, I had dreaded he would be of the same stamp as Lady Shorter.

What good would it do me to be saved, from prison only to die upon the streets in poverty and disgrace? Such had been my mood, upon reflection.

I stared at him, quite dumbfounded by his cheerful greeting. I was innocent in such matters, you see, as you may possibly be. Lord Stifton was not appointed because he was a learned jurist or a meddling prude of Lady Shorter's kind. He had been chosen because the Lord Chancellor thought him a good fellow. And so he was. It happened that Lord Stifton had been at school and Oxford with the son of the Chancellor.

"Jemmy," says the old L.C. to his own boy, "Who's a lively young chap of your acquaintance that we might send to quieten all this reformatory nonsense of that old bitch Shorter?"

The young spark furrowed his brow a moment.

"Damme, pater!" he says at last, "If you want a fellow that knows the world and ain't impressed by the squalling of every slum-girl that swears she's had her bottom smacked too hard, you couldn't do better than Bertie Stifton."

"Old Augustus Stifton's boy?" says the Chancellor, mighty pleased, "Not half a bad idea Jemmy! Wasn't he at Eton with you-and then Trinity? To be sure he was! That was the young devil that painted Old Mother Trout's bog-seat with fast glue and then put a candle under to see if she might jump out of her skin."

"He's a man of the world now," says Jem to his old guv'nor, "Why, he was in the South and saw all the ways of the slave estates before the Yankee civil war. He has Ahmed Pasha and a dozen emirs among his friends from travels in the East. There's not a man in England ever saw more of the inside of a harem than he. If you want to know how fifty girls under lock and key must best be managed, you couldn't do wiser than go in for Bertie Stifton."

And so this heir to the earldom of Bagpurse and Stifton was chosen to settle the scandal once for all. Let it be said, since I rely on your confidence in the matter, that there were more reasons than I had given. They did not, however, appear on the surface.

As young Lord Stifton told me, when I knew him better, the Lord Chancellor had spoken privately to the Prime Minister himself and the Confidential Secretary to the Monarch upon this subject. All were in agreement that the matter must be quietened. It was intolerable to allow a reformatory tomboy like Elaine Cox or a strapping young trollop like Mr. Bowler's to decide what she would and would not permit. Only let such a young whore complain of her treatment and be listened to, said the Prime Minister, and where was it to end?

The next thing would be a refusal by the boys in our public schools, the nurseries of church and state, to accept the discipline of the birch! The most hardened convicts would be permitted to decline the privilege of the lash! Any soldier would reject a drummers' flogging if given the choice, all because one or two weaklings had died of it!

Here would be an end to national morale. Government of the schools, the prisons and the army would become impossible! The Empire would be protected by regiments of milk-sops, who could not be expected to fight if they found it the least inconvenient. It was true that other countries contrived education, law, and military matters without such use of the lash. But look at them, said the Prime Minister, the decadence of France and the arrogance of Germany. The hopelessness of them all. Compare their pathetic little empires with the greatest of them all, won by stem resolve and endurance.

Besides which, said the Prime Minister privately, there was a good deal of fun to be had from the present system. True, there might be a moral lapse or two. A stiffened penis might slip up between a girl's legs or into her backside while she was bare for chastisement. The same dangers threatened in any pedagogue's birching and yet no one advocated the abolition of the schools.

With such support as this, the Lord Chancellor empowered Lord Stifton to set matters to rights. Indeed, the Chancellor had every motive to do so. It was not yet known to the public that he had submitted Mr. Bowler's name to the palace for a knighthood, acknowledging the saddler's services to law and order. It had happened most inconveniently, just before Lady Shorter uttered her first malignant grunts. A scandal would have made things very difficult. Moreover, it might have brought to light a certain transaction whereby Mr. Bowler privately lent the Lord Chancellor a substantial sum of money, to be repaid only when the great man felt able to do so without undue privation. It constituted, in common language, a gift.

It was under such circumstances as these that our noble young visitor inquired, "What's all this nonsense about old Bowler? Hey?"

So far as we could make out, there was only one girl who had caused trouble for the wealthy saddler in his "training school," as he called that private reformatory. I showed Lord Stifton the photographs of Noreen. He looked at the firm resolute features of her fair-skinned face, the wide points of her cheekbones and the lazy insolence of her brown eyes, the lank dark hair cut at collar-length and worn in a level fringe.

"Dammit!" he said, lounging back in the leather chair and sipping his hock and seltzer, "Damned if my old guv'nor didn't say it would be so! A common looking young slattern with a grudge against her master! And does the slut dare to complain of a man of Mr. Bowler's reputation in society? Does she, indeed!"

This put quite a new complexion on matters. I handed him the other photograph, taken from the rear as the girl polished on all fours. Lord Stifton looked at it with a sharp intake of breath. He studied that hind view in its thin denim, drawn tight and smooth. One could see his eyes traveling up the length of Noreen's trim strong thighs and noticing the soft swell of feminine flesh between her legs. His eyes sparkled as he viewed the full and broadened mounds of her buttocks with the central seam of the denim seat drawn tight and deep between them. Then he chuckled.

"And is this the strapping young whore who vows she is too delicate to take her licks as a reformatory girl must? We shall see about that!"

I confess that even then I felt a certain unease. Master Miles was bound to explain, as gently as he could, that it was not merely a case of tanning Noreen's backside. That had been done, of course, but there was something more. Not six months or so prior to this time, he had witnessed a lamentable incident. Mr. Snook, as a visiting magistrate, had indulged in a feel and a smack on one strapping young cheek of Noreen's bottom as she unwittingly presented it, bending in smoothly tight jeans-denim. Thinking herself far too fine for this familiarity, the young bitch swung up and in her fury struck him such a blow that he fell and injured his arm. The venerable old gentleman appeared for a week or two with his wrist in a black sling.

Mr. Bowler was furious-as who would not be?-at so dastardly an assault upon a magistrate. Mr. Snook was also cousin to the Lord Chancellor himself! A strapping young trollop of Noreen's kind is an apt subject for retribution. At nineteen years old, this rebellious shop girl was judged able to endure it.

All this had occurred before the present scandal broke. In speaking to Lord Stifton of what followed, Mr. Miles discoursed quietly and in the most discreet language. Mr. Bowler, Mr. Snook and their fellow justices took their revenge upon Noreen one afternoon a few weeks later. The place chosen was a well-lit cellar-vault of the reformatory, from which no sound would be heard. A heavy step-ladder was secured to the flagstones by rivets and steel brackets.

"They had positioned her before our arrival," said Mr. Miles, "One can imagine how a resentful and strongly-built girl like Noreen must have struggled in the grip of three or four stalwart fellows. But they were able to bend her over the step-ladder and strap her wrists to the supports on the far side, her arms pulled down at full stretch. Study the rear view of her in the camera portrait and you will see how she appeared to us. The jeans-seat was tight and smooth as drum skin giving a fine outline of her strapping young backside. Noreen is big-assed rather than plump, but where the seam is drawn tight and deep between her buttocks the fatter swell of her lower bottom-cheeks almost closes over it. The men undid the leather belt at her waist to take down the working jeans, as well as Noreen's knickers which were used to subdue her shrillness."

I listened to this with as much interest as Lord Stifton. In all its details the story was new to me. The master described Noreen, bare except for a short white blouse whose hem came down only to her waist. Her sturdy fair-skinned legs were pinioned by a broad thong just above her knees. Her ankles were strapped to the ladder. They added a broad strap round her bare waist.

One pictured the scene as Mr. Miles described it, the defiant shop girl flicking back the collar length of her lank dark hair, contempt in the slant of her brown eyes as she turned her resolute young face towards the onlookers. One saw also Mr. Bowler circling his left arm over her waist. He drew the rear of the blouse well up, clear of her hips. Because the girl was obliged to present her backside in the fullest and fattest swell in this posture, it was inevitable that his hands made a fondling and smoothing examination of her hind cheeks.

She coloured with outrage when he handled her strong thighs, coaxing back her soft feminine sex to give Mr. Snook and the others a glimpse of pink intimacy. And how she panted with fury when he parted the bare cheeks of Noreen's bottom and made the young window-dresser show her arsehole to the justices. At nineteen years old, said Mr. Miles, it was not too late for this strapping young trollop to get the first of many lessons in humility.

Mr. Miles became diplomatic and circumspect in his account. Puffing on his fine Havana, Mr. Bowler clamped his left arm tighter round the girl's waist. He lowered his head and examined the pale full-cheeked swell of Noreen's bottom, so closely that she must have felt his breath upon it. He drew upon the weed again. Beginning with the left side, he touched the sparkling cherry brightness in a quick and tickling motion to the bare pallor of Noreen's backside.

It would scarcely be judicious to repeat the details of Mr. Miles' account. To be sure, Noreen's shrillness was prudently wadded. But it has to be admitted that the touching-up of her nineteen-year-old ass lasted the greater part of the afternoon by means of pauses and interludes. The frenzy of this strongly-built girl was such that, stout though they were, it seemed she might break the straps which held her. Fortunately she was held firm after all. Mr. Bowler roughed the first of Noreen's bottom-cheeks quite outrageously before he proceeded to the other. Then he applied the salted kitchen fat.

Lord Stifton considered what he had heard. He stood up, refilled his glass, then sat back in the spacious leather chair.

"In such matters," he said, "we must balance the need for retribution against the crime committed. By means of this, appropriate discipline may be devised. We do not hang a man for stealing a sovereign. Nor do we fine him a sovereign if he commits murder."

I listened agog to this, not knowing what Mr. Bowler's fate might be.

"First," said Lord Stifton, "we must consider whether such a punishment is ever permissible. A reasonable man will say that it never is. It is lighter than the sentence of the gallows and has been sanctioned in the past by English law for lesser felonies."

Who could fault him there.

"If it is then permissible at all," he went on, "for what should it be inflicted? I answer that if it is inflicted for any crime, there can be none more demanding it than an assault of the most violent kind upon a magistrate, who is the representative of the law and the monarch."

He paused and then gave judgment.

"The decision to employ such means or not must remain in the hands of the magistrates. It is a private punishment, as are those in our finest schools, and best not discussed in public. The degree of punishment inflicted on a young whore like Noreen may be somewhat greater than the harm she has done to her victim. I applaud this, for it carries the example of deterrence.

"For the rest," he said, "let us have no more of this nonsense-as to whether a reformatory master must be debarred from inflicting discipline upon such a girl because he happens to enjoy doing it. What does it signify if he enjoys it? Is justice to come to an end because its servants are zealous in their task? I will hear no more of such absurdity. It is put about by slanderers and malcontents!"

Words cannot express the relief I felt upon discovering that our fate rested in the hands of this genial young nobleman. He was our supporter and friend during the weeks he occupied the guest rooms in the garden courtyard. After dinner he would talk of his travels, always showing us that east and west alike used pretty much the same methods in dealing with pretty wantons.

"To be sure," he said that evening, "I recall cases in the Confederate states at the time of the Civil War when every gentleman of note in Carolina had a few fancy-girls among his slaves. Their lovely skins were darker than English beauty but there were some randy little wrigglers among 'em! Colonel Ashbee of Chelsea plantation had a little beauty, nineteen years old, by the name of Helen. They prize slave-girls of mixed race or lighter colour there. Helen was a Chinese missy with a look of Europe in her style. They get oriental girls through the California trade. Whether it is strictly allowable I cannot say, but no objection was ever raised that I heard of.

"This young charmer had a skin of lighter yellow tan, and there was rouge on her cheeks. Yet she showed the devilish prettiness of the east in the flatter nose and rather slanting eyes, the dark brows and the finely-boned cheeks. Her black hair was moulded in a modern sophisticated style, worn in a lightly waved mass and cut short above her shoulders.

"I saw her undressed several times to undergo the attentions of Colonel Ashbee's guests. She had a slim and pretty figure, delicately-boned, which one expects from a girl of nineteen with so much of Asia in her blood. She was a perfect ivory-yellow tan from top to toe. Her legs were slim and her thighs prettily curved. She had prim little breasts, a narrow waist and a flat belly. Often they would make her a waitress for their private supper-parties. She was permitted only a pair of little red shoes with tall heels, a skimpy breast halter and a pair of ballet-girl briefs. These briefs were nothing but a pouch to cover the swell of her pubic mound and two inch-wide strips round her hips to the seat. I think she liked to dress in this style. The seat of the briefs was quite scandalous. The pale lemon cheeks of Helen Wong's bottom were left entirely bare, the seat of the panties being a ribbon in her rear crack.

"You may be sure that none of the men whom she served objected to this. Though Helen Wong's bottom-cheeks were demure and trim, the delicate shape did not lack a feminine softness. The swell of the dark-haired pubic mound under the tight silk promised passion and energy. Combined with the slim nudity of her smooth yellow thighs, such hints of beauty gave the gentlemen an appetite for something more than their food...."

Lord Stifton was full of anecdotes about his experiences. Indeed he praised the system by which such young women were openly bought and sold as fancy-girls, trained exclusively for the pleasures of their owners. Their masters were able to do whatever they wished without the English pretence that it was all in the service of moral discipline.

"To be sure," he said, "I saw this pretty young she-devil undressed and thrashed a time or two. But Helen Wong's knickers were often taken down for displays in which the girl was an enthusiastic performer. Often after dinner they would make her lie face-down over the sofa in nothing but the red shoes and the little breast-halter. The girl would watch them over her shoulder with her devilish little mouth grinning and her slant eyes mocking them-daring the men to have fun with her. She would cry, 'MIQUEL! SEND FOR MIQUEL!'

"Their favourite game was to call in Miquel, a negro slave-girl of great depravity, tall and fine-featured with big dark eyes and hair cropped short as any boy's. This brown-skinned girl was naked and as eager to manualise Helen Wong as the pretty she-devil was to have it done to her. So, the men having administered many a sounding slap to the bare brown cheeks of Miquel's bottom as she passed by them, the shapely negress stooped over her willing victim...."

You can imagine with what attention those of us at the dinner table heard Lord Stifton's story. He described how Miquel slipped her fingers between the rear of Helen's trim saffron thighs and began to lesbianise her skillfully. It was Miquel's role to act the part of a boy with the other girls, as well as in the bed of any man who desired her in that way.

"So," said his lordship, "Helen squirmed her pale yellow delicately-shaped nudity, lying on her belly over the sofa.

Her prettily curved tan-skinned thighs writhed and squeezed lovingly upon Miquel's fingers, which tickled and squeezed and rubbed so cunningly. The tousled crop of Helen's dark hair twisted this way and that. She sighed and sobbed, the fine delicacy of her heart-shaped face racked by passion. The warm folds of Helen Wong's charming little sex moistened quickly under the other girl's caresses. She loved to be brought off by Miquel. What intrigued one most of all was to see how her whimpers and writhings were for all the world like a girl being whipped. When Helen came quickly and urgently on Miquel's fingers, she sounded just as she did at the crisis of a thrashing."

There was much talk of this curiosity. Master Miles asked if the demure missy with her oriental prettiness had ever tasted discipline of the reformatory kind. Lord Stifton smiled.

"The colonel to whom she belonged insisted upon it. Sometimes she was put under training by the trader who sold her in the first place. The hint of Chinese prettiness got the girl into a good deal of trouble. When he disciplined her he would never let her wear more than die skimpy silk which just covered her sweet little tits, and her red shoes. The area caned was from the rear of her waist to the back of her knees. He would throw Helen Wong ass-upwards over the trestle and his assistants would hold her down. It was rare for him to have a girl with such demure and pretty buttocks of Chinese yellow. With one flashing stroke after another, he bamboo'd the smooth saffron rounds of Helen Wong's bottom-cheeks. You believe that the girls here are soundly chastised in the name of discipline. It is nothing to what was done there for the trader's pleasure!"

It was instructive to hear, from his lordship's rich store of experience, how these things were managed in other lands. I had always thought that such methods were peculiar to England and was interested to hear that in the Slave States of our American cousins the severity was greater, where there was no need to pretend anything but enjoyment.

His lordship also hinted that even if the pretty Asian girl had entered the trader's house a virgin, she left as something else. There was never a schoolgirl so adept with a lollypop as this pretty damsel became with the manhood of one fortunate slave-boy after another. The trader tested her between the legs every night. However, in order that her narrow waist and flat belly should not be spoilt, he always turned her over before the finish. Parting the buttocks of this slim and tan-skinned maiden, he found Helen Wong extremely small and tight at the rear. The girl had twisted round the shock of her dark hair, her slant eyes and devilish pretty features a mask of frenzy at what was proposed. But her maiden terrors at such stretching were overcome by the insistent application of a little soap and a resolute knob. A hundred times and more during those months the girl felt the strong pulse of his passion which he pumped in the depths of her backside.

"To exercise her regularly in a somewhat perverse manner was to the girl's own benefit," Lord Stifton remarked, "With such a pretty slave, a master would surely turn her over for this purpose sooner or later. Far better that she should be properly prepared. When the trader sold her after six months, Helen Wong's behind had been made permanently easier."

There had been but one truly unfortunate incident, when the girl tried to reward her owner by extreme violence. Curiously, he employed the same method of retribution as Mr. Bowler, with Helen nude and face-down over a leather-padded trestle. Her body thus formed an inverted V, Lord Stifton explained, her arms fastened at full stretch to the floor on one side, her legs straight and stretched to the floor on the other with a pinion round her thighs.

"The fellow always swore that he enjoyed that Havana as much as any he ever smoked," quipped his lordship, "You may be sure that they would have done worse to the girl in the barbarous orient. The demure rounds of her bare buttocks were smooth as pale lemon silk when she was forced to present them most unwillingly over the trestle. I can judge Mr. Bowler the more easily, for I was present when the trader tickled the sparkling red upon the first bare cheek of Helen Wong's bottom."

There was a murmur of astonishment at this. His lordship held up a hand.

"Let us not judge rashly. An attack by a slave-girl is a serious matter. Do not forget that such a man had nothing to fear from the law of Judge Lynch, if he chose to slip the noose round her neck and hang Helen Wong from a convenient beam. The trader was more lenient with her-and more careful of his own purse. He touched up her pretty rear cheeks for her and he made Helen Wong scream. But he was less vindictive than he might have been with such a pretty Chinese slave-maiden."

After such a strange story, the others parted for the night. But Lord Stifton lingered a half-hour more with his port and I kept him company.

"I trust I do not shock you by my revelations?" he asked courteously, "I am of opinion that men are much the same the world over and that few vices are particular to any nation. The trader of whom I speak would love to have a strapping young English trollop like Noreen as a slave. And I daresay Mr. Bowler would know how to deal with a devilishly pretty girl like Helen. Yet you hear Englishmen can't of the evils of American slavery while the Yankees denounce the corruption of British law because it favors respectable folk and not whores or their ruffians."

"I hope all will go well with Mr. Bowler," I said, "He is greatly admired."

"I hope so too," Lord Stifton nodded, "While it rests with me things shall go well for him. The touching up of Noreen's fat ass is not a matter on which such a man's career is to be broken. The Lord Chancellor himself is firm on that. Our nation needs men of Mr. Bowler's stamp, fellows of enterprise and determination. It does not signify if one shop girl, more or less, suffers some inconvenience in sitting down comfortably for a day or two."

"I am glad to hear you say so, my lord," I took the decanter of port which he had passed me again, "I have always respected the Lord Chancellor and his views. While he rules the courts and the Prime Minister has charge of parliament, Old England shall come to no harm."

He said nothing for a moment. I guessed that he was still a little troubled about the other allegations which had been made against Mr. Bowler by the young slattern who strove to stir up trouble for him. I believe we both shared that image of Noreen on the bed every night in Mr. Bowler's private reformatory, which his wealth had endowed. One pictured the strapping nineteen-year-old wench face-down over the pillows, wrists secured to the frame at either side. One imagined the short white blouse, her only garment, and how her strong young thighs and the firmly broadened pallor of Noreen's bottom-cheeks were nicely bared and conveniently presented in this posture. What can one say of the table by the bed and its suggestive ensemble of the soap bottle and the squirt, the Vaseline, the rolled paper, the cane and the short woven lash?

Lord Stifton had the inestimable advantage of having seen the picture of the girl and knowing the contempt which she would turn upon her master when he entered that room at night. The resolute chin and firm fair-skinned features, the insolent slant of the brown eyes, the slight coloring of anger at the wide points of her cheek-bones, the collar-length of her lank dark hair with its level fringe-all this made up a challenge which could not be ignored.

Though we did not speak of it, I believe that we both imagined Mr. Bowler as he perched upon the bed and drew the tail of Noreen's blouse higher still. With her wrists fastened and the pillows under her loins to raise the swell of her bare hips and seat, she could do no more than tense and shift her young body in loathing of his attentions.

But Mr. Bowler would tolerate no refusals from a sturdy young wench who was obliged by the law to obey his commands. Fondling and rousing between her legs provoked an animal excitement in a girl of Noreen's kind. Mr. Bowler enjoyed himself greatly in that place. Like all his brother justices he was too prudent to risk swelling up her belly and creating a scandal. If Noreen were to drop a brat while in his private reformatory, only one man could have the unwelcome honor of being named its sire!

Mr. Bowler made shift. By using the strap to hold Noreen's thighs close together, he was able to withdraw from danger and be squeezed agreeably until he spouted between the smooth warmth of the girl's bare legs. On other occasions he browsed his lips upon the broadened pallor of Noreen's bottom-cheeks, parting and vaselining the tight bud of forbidden pleasure. Her gasps and squirming were evidence of how greatly Noreen hated the moment when the spout pumped warm passion in her rear depths. I believe that much of Mr. Bowler's pleasure came from these signs of the girl's repulsion.

Lord Stifton had meditated such dungs. Then he took me into his confidence.

"Who knows what Mr. Bowler may or may not have done? When he is alone with a young slut like Noreen, which must often be the case, he has no witnesses to speak for him. Look at her picture! Her face tells you all! A strapping young wench of nineteen will often revenge herself upon her master by false allegations and rumors. Who is to be believed? A man like Bowler to whom the nation owes so much-or a common shop girl?"

Yet he confessed that Mr. Bowler had not always been discreet. Once he had visited the girl's room an hour or two before the judicial sentence of a midnight whipping was inflicted on her bare backside. The gaoler was to do it to her while the justices and their ladies looked on.

Mr. Bowler threw discretion to the winds. Having drawn clear of Noreen's rear, he tore paper to remove the last trails of his passion from her rear cheeks and the guilty shine of vaseline. The tissue was too compromising to discard in her room. He squeezed it to a wad and looked about him. Here Lord Stifton became French and confidential.

"Noreen, courbee a plat ventre sur les coussins, les handles bien levees, etait obligee a offrir ses fesses gerement ecartees. Mr. Bowler enfonga la boule de papier dans le trou posterieur de cette jeune putain. Mais il laissa paraitre le dernier bout du papier. Cela obligea Noreen a offrir une derriere tres impudique aux magistrals et au fouet du gedlier. On voulait augmenter les supplices de cette jeune fille ouvriere. Le bout du papier que Noreen montrait entre ses fesses fait naitre des pensees couvertes de l'usage sexuel de son trou derriere et des images de Noreen sur la chaise percee. On aimait voir Noreen, le pedt trou de sa croupe orne" du bout du papier. On stait beaucoup plus severe a cause de cela. On esperait voir Noreen bientdt, avec ses fesses bien ecorchees par le fouet du geolier."

At this his lordship realized how far ahead of me his French was carrying him and he paused. An hour later, he said, Noreen was taken struggling to the vault and secured over the trestle, bending tightly forward, hips and backside bare. Bent tight for the leather switch, the young trollop showed the rude little flag of paper peeping out between the swelling pallor of her broadened rear cheeks. Unabashed, Noreen flicked back the collar length of her lank dark hair and surveyed the justices with contempt in the slant of her brown eyes and her resolute young face.

Uncounted smacks of the switch across Noreen's bottom changed her contempt to frenzy. To curb her impudence properly, the gaoler chose a finely woven lash. Before resuming, he ordered her to expel the saucy "boule du papier" or have it plucked by the lash. He made Noreen turn her broadened young backside more fully towards the spectators and bend more tightly over the trestle as she performed. To compound her plight, she was also to turn her face round so that the justices and their ladies enjoyed every aspect of her humiliation.

"One of them gave me a precise account," said Lord Stifton, "Nothing was concealed from the justices, whose trouser-fronts seemed far too tight at such a spectacle. The eyes of their ladies sparkled with malicious amusement, for they loved to see a sturdy young slut like Noreen humbled. They watched her bare bottom intently as its cheeks seemed to swell more fully and her belly tensed with effort. Noreen faisait elargir son trou posteneur. La boule grossiere s'avangait lentement. Je crois qu'elle avait peur d'une manifestation plus honteuse. Noreen kept her pale, full-cheeked bottom towards the justices as she had been ordered and they saw the young window-dresser enlarge her rude rear blow-hole, cautiously and slowly expelling the wad. Several of the gentlemen had watched her at work in the saddler's. They remembered the big-cheeked swell of the girl's tightened jeans-seat presented to the world as she bent or knelt over, the contemptuous flick of her lank collar-length hair. Her insolence then made Noreen's humiliation now all the more enjoyable. Her backside had just had the whip and she was about to get it again. Meantime, as Noreen's anus expanded, the compromising wad emerged most rudely. At length it fell down the back of her thighs to the flagstones. One understands the excitement of the voyeurs. A strapping young trollop like Noreen must be cured of thinking too highly of herself. Yet Mr. Bowler was injudicious."

"Was Helen Wong never made to humble herself properly, my lord?"

"To be sure," he said impatiently. "But you misunderstand me. To have fun in disciplining a fat-assed wench like Noreen was admirable. But the guests were too freely admitted. Suppose one of them had blabbed to Lady Shorter-as may have happened? One cannot be too discreet, sir!"

Now I understood. Lord Stifton favoured Noreen's humiliation. But Mr. Bowler positively must be more careful in his choice of guests for these occasions.

So that was all! You see what a sympathetic mentor we had in Lord Stifton. That night he required a maid to attend him. Entering the room next to his suite, he summoned Michele Page. This fifth-form vamp with her slant of brown hair and vicious features was an admirable choice. But you are not to suppose him a mere libertine. To be sure by next morning the odor di femina of adolescent arousal in that room betrayed the girl's state and a smudge of soap glistened on Michele Page's bottom. But there had been a sequel of the English kind. A bamboo, as well as the youngster's knickers, lay discarded on a chair.

His lordship was no mere Don Juan but one who took a lively interest in the welfare of unfortunate young creatures. In the American war be had done much to aid a girl a year or so younger than Michele, a Scandinavian nymph who was alone in the conflict. Nina Frederiksen was still an elfin creature, he said, a young blonde with lightly sun-bronzed limbs. He showed me a photograph of the little charmer, the straight and solemn lines of her firm young face, the blond hair curled on her forehead and drawn back into a skittish silky-soft tail that swung and brushed her collar. His lordship vowed that Michele and Nina Katrina would make delicious playmates for one another and for their master.

Mr. Miles delighted to put Michele at his disposal. She was a hardened little minx, much in need of being taught lady-like talents. There was a class for her every afternoon, alone with him in his sitting-room. His lordship occupied the leather armchair and Michele knelt before him. The weather being warm and the window open, one heard him talking. Michele spoke very little.

"I'm sure you enjoy sucking a lollypop, Michele," he would say gently, "Use your tongue a little more....And now over here. Michele... Lie back and draw your knees up as if you were squatting on your side....And now this way, Michele, on your belly....Such a round and cheeky young bottom, Michele...."

So it went on. His lordship had a gift for employing such girls, whom many noblemen would have despised as low and uncultured. He spoke several times of his young inamorata, Nina, whom he missed. To wean her away from memories of the war, he had many tricks. Each evening she would slip off her white shorts and lie over his knees. Lord Stifton fondled her delicate beauty, the slim narrow thighs kissed gold by the sun and the pert budding cheeks of Nina Frederiksen's trim little backside. By practicing upon her himself, he lured her into self-caressing, to distract her from horrid memories. In this he was successful. Her nightmares were banished. Nina Frederiksen eased herself, naked every night in her elfin nudity, while Lord Stifton watched and admired.

"Was it not better than the haunting nightmare of the war?" he asked me, "All her family had been lost in the most tragic circumstances. In her new pleasures I believe she found some antidote to so much misfortune."

He spoke with great assurance and I did not dispute the matter. However, we were soon to put it behind us. Next night mere was the most momentous news.

It came about while Mr. Miles was telling us of a revenge taken by Mr. Bowler on the porcine Lady Shorter. Her ladyship was a notorious lover of her own sex. She had in tow a tall girl, thin and pale, by the name of Claire. I had seen her and can vouch for the red hair cut like a boy's in a basin crop and a lascivious slant of her eyes. Mr. Bowler had contrived to have her apprehended for some fault. He and Mr. Snook had ordered her confinement for three years in Mr. Bowler's own institution. Notice was given to Lady Shorter that at the first squeak of protest from her they would reimpose the sentence. The three years would become six at the stroke of a pen.

Mr. Bowler had a new entertainment for his dinner guests. When the table had been cleared and they were still sitting round it, Noreen and Claire would be brought in naked. Noreen with her firm sturdy shape and lank dark hair, Claire with her thin vicious looks and red hair boyishly cropped, were forced to lie head to tail. Compelled to obedience, they then played "Chinese knick-knacks" under each other's legs and between each other's bottom-cheeks. Fingers, lips and tongues were to be used for every purpose and nothing was to be concealed from the guests who sat round and watched. Noreen and Claire were obliged to play at being rude little girls together for an hour or more. Not that such lasciviousness could be pardoned. Those who glimpsed them undressed the following day sometimes saw the bruises of a sound caning on the slim pallor of Claire's bottom-cheeks as well as upon Noreen's fuller rear orbs.

But this was nothing compared to the revelation which Lord Stifton made.

"I must leave you in a week or so and return home," he said amiably to Mr. Miles, "I would stay with pleasure but it is a time of year when the estate needs close management. September is the very devil, for so much must be finished before winter comes."

We mourned his proposed departure with unfeigned regret.

"Before I go," his lordship continued, "I wish the world to know that you and Mr. Bowler have been entirely vindicated. I should like the people of this county to see that the nation and the law owe you a debt of gratitude for the service you have rendered 'em. I have resolved to put the matter right."

What did he mean? I had no idea.

"Next week," he said, "I propose a visit here by a good friend of mine. He longs to meet you and to express the thanks which all honest folk owe you."

"We should welcome any friend of your lordship's as a guest here," said Mr. Miles hastily.

"To be sure you would, master." Lord Stifton smiled, "This friend of mine is the Lord Chancellor of England in person. He would repay the devotion to duty you have shown by dining with you next week and staying as your guest that night. Then he and I shall travel back to town together."

Mr. Miles and I sat dumbfounded at the splendid recognition proposed and the complete vindication of our conduct in the eyes of the neighbourhood. A smile of promise played about Lord Stifton's lips. The generous young nobleman meant well to us. I guessed from his expression that the purpose of the visit would be to confer on us some public honor within the Lord Chancellor's gift!

CHAPTER TEN - The New Justice

I scarcely knew, as I woke one morning a few days later, whether I had been the victim of a dream of hope, as a drowning man imagines himself safe on terra firma while the waters suck him down. I opened my eyes to the sunlight and birdsong of the familiar bedroom and hardly dared to look about me. But there on the table lay the envelope with the Lord Chancellor's seal.

The honor he had done me was announced by the official letter written from his apartments in the House of Lords and sent in advance of his visit. His lordship, on the Sovereign's behalf, had appointed me a magistrate and justice of the peace for the county! For Mr. Miles a greater recognition lay in store, which was only proper as he was my senior by many years. He was to be chairman of the Quarter Sessions and a great man in the courts.

The Tory interest in the towns of B-------- and E-------- already saw him as their candidate for the next parliamentary election. He is just the sort of man to suit their party well in the House of Commons. It would not be long before he was minister of the Crown, showing how men of enterprise may aspire to the highest office. Whether he would have time to do all his duties as a reformatory master in addition was doubtful. The burden must fall upon me.

I know you are a generous reader and will rejoice at my success, snatched from die jaws of adversity. Let it be a lesson to those who whine and carp at the privileges others enjoy! See how a man may rise, as I had done, from humble birth and ill fortune to a place of influence and respect. I was not yet famous in the world at large. Yet I was to be a great man in the county.

A week later I received the warrant of my appointment from the Lord Chancellor's own hand-surely a rare compliment. What a twinkling and genial old fellow he was in his official dress, knee breeches and silver buckles to his shoes. That night at the grandest dinner the master's rooms had ever seen, he proved a most amiable companion. I have always found that the more exalted a man's position, the more easy he is in private life.

This time it was no question of being waited on by slovenly girls of the reformatory kind. The new chairman of Quarter sessions employed two liveried footmen to bring food piping hot under gleaming covers and wine which cooled in silver buckets. It was August and the weather still warm. A sweet perfume of new-mown hay was borne through the open windows on the evening air.

"Well now! Dear me! To be sure!" chuckled the Lord Chancellor, "This is more like a dinner, hey? What d'ye say to it, Bertie Stifton? Hey? Mr. Miles is the fellow for a dinner, hey?"

I never knew such good humour, nor better conversation. We ate smoked salmon washed down with Chablis and then the roast beef of old England with a fine Bordeaux. The Lord Chancellor talked of politics and the state of the parties in a casual manner. We heard who had said what to whom, that very week in Downing Street and the Palace of Westminster. What would my humble family think if they could have seen and heard me among this talk of great men?

It was delightful to find that the Lord Chancellor, for all his exalted rank, was no prude nor prig. He stands next in order to the Sovereign of the Realm, but is a man of the world-and no mistake. It is true of all great men, I have since found. They go into parliament, put on a stern face and talk of duty and necessity in the most lofty fashion. But catch them in private and all is different. They are as great rogues as the rest of us. The virtuous-seeming men and women in public life are generally those who most enjoy the relaxation of scandal and bawdy. Why begrudge it? It is better for them to frisk in private life and serve the country well, than be dull in public and private alike.

Judges and barristers are the most endearing rogues of all. They will thunder against malefactors in the courts and then slip away to enjoy the very pleasures for which they have just prosecuted or sentenced some unfortunate miscreant of a lower social class. One loves them dearly for their waggish hypocrisy and they are amusing fellows. It is the principle of an attorney's profession that he may espouse any moral or immoral cause, provided he be paid a fee. So you will hear him, as prosecutor, denounce buggery as the worst crime in the world. Next week, defending another case, he will argue that it is a trivial aberration and hardly criminal at all. Who could resist such fellows?

Lord Stifton-"Bertie" as our honored guest would call him-was not the least inconvenienced by the presence of the Lord Chancellor. The old gentleman was eager to hear of his adventures in die harems of Arabia and the great plantation houses of the Old South. When the meal was over and the port had gone round, Mr. Miles ordered jugs of dark ale. It was a warm evening indeed, or so it seemed after such a dinner. Something was needed to cool us down.

Light faded from the late August sky above the old weathered stone of the ancient courtyard and the great elm trees beyond. In the darkening room the tips of the Havana cigars were bright glow-worms in the gathering shadows. The cool beer, strongly malted, soothed our throats as we talked. Bertie Stifton recounted his American adventures and the intriguing manner in which tyrannical white-skinned mistresses had been given a taste of slavery themselves as the Yankees crushed the Confederacy. He swore that a proud young woman made an exciting subject, on a plantation or in a reformatory.

"You must prove a case, Bertie!" chuckled Lord Chancellor, T can't see Mr. Miles would thank you for filling his house with arrogant young bitches."

"I don't say he would, sir. But a proud and sophisticated woman gives more satisfaction in the places I have seen. There was one on a plantation in the Carolinas-let her name be Susan. Before General Sherman's advance, she was mistress, though the colonel who owned the great house would never marry her.

"At twenty-five or twenty-six years old, Sue was an arrogant young wench, to be sure! She liked to parade before the black slaves as a young horsewoman with firm and statuesque thighs shaped to advantage by tight riding-jeans and smart boots. Her light brown tresses were rather untidily swept back and the ends lay just upon her collar. The proud fair-skinned face had a prim mouth and narrowed blue eyes, but her hauteur was softened by a hint of freckling."

His lordship smiled as an anecdote came to mind.

"You would see her striding to the stables in the afternoon. Susan knew there was a swollen erection in the pants of every black male-slave who watched her, the youngest boy or the finest buck. From foot to knee she was tightly cased in the gloss of tall-heeled boots. From knee to waist the tight strained denim of riding pants shaped the graceful bow of her mature young thighs. At the seat, the tight pants offered the firm and self-assured swell of Sue Webb's bottom-cheeks.

"For a black slave to touch or even to eye her lasciviously meant the gelding-knife for him. Nothing less. The young woman knew it and this increased her excitement in parading so tantalizingly before them. The negro women muttered that the disdainful young beauty was 'juicing herself in the tight pants as she walked. I think they were not far wrong. One little black fellow, of an age where they thrash rather man geld them, boldly followed close behind her. As he watched the firm sway of her hips, the striding of her fine young thighs and the voluptuous rounding of Susan's buttocks in tight denim, his hand slipped into his pants' waist and played on his Cupid's flute. He was there, eager to assist, when she mounted her horse.

"He cupped his hands for her to step up as she mounted, ensuring that her tightly-booted calf rubbed his stiffened bulge as she pulled up. When she leant forward over the horse, the firm womanliness of her behind swelled fatter and the happy lad had the full swell of Susan Webb's bottomcheeks in their smooth denim thrust right into his face. To tongue-kiss the ass of this fair-skinned beauty, even through her pants, was the height of ecstasy. As she swung herself astride, one saw a small wet patch on one cheek of Sue's jeans-seat."

There was laughter round the table at this. Mr. Snook inquired, "And the Yankees made the young bitch serve as a slave in her turn?"

"They put her under a black overseer, Pego, to give her a taste of it. She and the Chinese missy, Helen, were at his constant disposal, bare-legged and bare-bottomed. He attached his girls one behind the other, so that Sue had the rear of Helen's hips and thighs in her face, hour after hour. They were commanded to love. Every night Sue fell asleep with the tastes of Helen Wong's backside and thighs running on her tongue."

His lordship paused and looked significantly at us. Then he resumed.

"The fact, gentlemen, is that the excitement of having such a proud fair-skinned beauty as a slave was far greater than having Helen or a girl who was trained for it. A dozen times at least, Pego avenged himself with a snakeskin lash on the proud and pearly swell of Sue Webb's bottom-cheeks. He left a tapestry of thin plum-coloured weals which were a real tribute to the cruel skill of the whip maker's art! Such a disdainful young woman needs an experience of this sort-and often she secretly knows it. She hates every minute of the thrashing but may feel strange excitements at the memory of it."

You will guess that this observation provoked lively discussion. A fragrant aroma of Havana drifted from the open window to mingle with the wallflowers' perfume in the warm dark courtyard. The Lord Chancellor listened wisely as each of us cited an interesting case or a relevant circumstance.

"Such evidence is of great importance to government in England," he said at last, "To be sure, we have no harems nor do we countenance slave-plantations. Yet the control of young women who are kept under reformatory discipline is a great problem and we may learn something from orient and Occident alike."

"One concludes, sir," said Lord Stifton, "that a willful young Englishwoman finds a secret release of excitement in being properly mastered in the harem as well. I met cases of this sort in my travels through the Levant. It would surprise you to learn how many of our young women are enticed into luxurious bondage or brought there by abduction. I may cite an instance of that."**

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**Lord Stifton's eastern memoirs may be gleaned in his guise as "Lord Henry Flemming," in An Arabian Night and his own Pearls of the Orient, to be had of the Private Bibliophiles, 13, Rue du Faubourg Montmarte, Paris 9e.

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"We should value your experience, sir," said the Lord Chancellor softly.

Lord Stifton began to tell us of a scene he witnessed in a slave-dealer's house in Budapest or Tangier, Cairo or Constantinople. The subject was a fair-skinned young woman of twenty-five or so, willful and spoilt, with modern views and errant ways. The dealer conquered her disdain by an enforced display of all that her anatomy offered, upon a large marble table. Lord Stifton drew her in imagination, a quite tall young woman, a figure firmly mature. To signal her emancipation from female submissiveness and moral convention, she wore her fair hair in a boy's pudding-basin cut with a parted fringe. She had clear fair-skinned features, dismissive blue eyes and the sulky resolve of mouth and chin which often accompanies wanton conduct in such a modem young madam.

To make an example of her, the trader chose to display her interesting areas and all their functions before an audience of his favoured clients. She was no virgin bride, of course, but he did not doubt that the demonstration would find a buyer for her, which proved to be the case. It was in such circumstances that Lord Stifton and the others attended a fine dinner in the trader's house and proceeded afterwards to the spacious room with the marble table, where the young slave-wife waited, watched over by an older mistress and four valets.

Lord Stifton's account was long and I can repeat only the climax of the events to illustrate, as he did, how a willful and resentful young woman suddenly wallowed in submission and humiliation. He described how she was made to lie on the marble table, clad like a ballet-girl behind the scenes in a short white singlet and translucent tights. This drew glances of warm admiration. Her youth was at its fullest maturity, her long thighs still taut, her belly a little rounded. Her hips had broadened marginally in her twenties, her moon-pale bottom-cheeks were firmed out erotically by her childbearing.

This indulged and spoilt daughter of the bourgeoisie had, until her abduction, been permitted every liberty and sensual whim. Now her rights were overruled. The baring of pale breasts and easily roused loins was enforced. Held over the table, she was brought off through her tights by the skilful manualising of the older woman. Her loins were ridden by two fine fellows who excited her to writhing and moaning with longing for more, despite her protests. This, said Lord Stifton, contributed to what followed.

"She was again dressed in the short white singlet and translucent honey-toned tights. They sat her in a hollow at one end of the marble table. Two held the sulky young slave-wife. A third kept her legs wide open by the knees. A skilled finger teased her. Prolonged excitement between her legs had left her superbly sensitive, the intimate feminine flesh loving the caress and yet flinching from the exquisite torment of further arousal. The nature of feminine anatomy also made the need to release her torrent grow keener with the tickling.

"They permitted no refusal, tantalizing the sensitive fold and crease through the filmy tights. She bowed the high-crowned crop of her straight fair hair. She tensed her trim thighs. She caught her breath at the rising pressure. But the cunning finger tickled the little fountain-hole! The outcome was inevitable. She gave a muffled cry. We heard a tell-tale hiss and a liquid whispering sound on marble. This boyishly-cropped Venus sat in a pool of her own making!

"They held the sulky young woman until the seat and flanks of her tights were well soaked. Then they turned her on her side upon the marble table, her rear to the audience. She tried to twist free. As she struggled against their grasp, her pale buttocks swelled and rounded in the most vulgar shape of feminine temptation. With hard and eager hand the valet gave a wet fat-sounding smack to one full-moon cheek of Lesley Hollingsworth's bottom in the glistening film of her tights to make her lie still. Before she could respond, he landed a second and third smack on the same full and surging cheek-swell, then wiped his fingers dry on her bare belly-curve.

"The disdainful young slave-wife gasped and turned her face, blue eyes now wide and startled as a girl-child's under the long parted fringe of her fair hair. No one had ever dared to do such a thing to her before! Yet the sting left her pensive rather than outraged. The valet had wanted the smacking to hurt her-and so it had. But it was an indignity more suited to her little schoolgirl daughter than to the young woman herself! How she squirmed her hips and trim thighs after this brief preliminary spanking! She writhed the sodden tights between her legs, as if squeezing herself on them for excitement!

"To keep her in place, they locked her by anklets and waist-belt to rings in the marble. A minor reflected the moody, self-pitying face. The aloofness of her clear features matched her chin's sullen line and her sulky mouth.

"She lay, displaying her rear view grudgingly. Our eyes lingered on her perversely plain crop of fair hair. One's gaze followed the curve of her back in the white singlet from shoulders to waist. Above the waistband of her tights was an inch of bare hip-flesh, pale and sleek. Her thighs were firm and taut, hips broadened in the slight erode maturity of her later twenties.

"The wet seat of her tights now clung smooth and flawlessly to her rear contours, making her show the firming out of her backside most suggestively. On the curve of the smooth translucent, seat the film of moisture caught die light with a sheen like silk. Wet and sleek, the honey-toned gloss was transparently tight on the pale moons of the young woman's buttocks. This gave a fuller and a seductively fatter look to the cheeks of Lesley Hollingsworth's bottom. No wonder the hours after midnight were to be devoted to the anatomy and functions of her posterior, upon the marble table."

His lordship described a curious incident, instructive of her psychology. A curtain was drawn while the men took refreshment-to make her think she was concealed. The valets warned her that her backside would be the object of the demonstration in the dead hours of night which soon began. As she lay with her ass to the curtain, they laid out the implements for her to see.

She was obliged to breathe the perfume of liquid soap, seeing the squirt's rubber bulb filled with it. They promised she would feel it deeply and intimately. A Vaseline jar was proof that one man at least was excited by the pudding-basin cut of the young woman's hair and the feminine maturity of her rear cheeks. He would dismiss her peevish claims to marriage and children, even to femininity. Her bottom seduced him to make a boy of this perversely plain-cropped young wanton. In this he was severely logical, arguing that her morals had left her too easy between the legs but tight at the rear. The penalty was one which her promiscuity had incurred.

All this was whispered to her by the valets. They showed her the spanking-strap, for she was first to be treated like a little girl. They drew her indignant blue eyes to the supple prison-farm bamboo, to be used by the man who wished to treat the young slave-wife as a delinquent boy. Her behind would also be skinned by the prison birch, used in a cold judicial manner without anger or pity. The woven snakeskin of the short pony-lash completed the assembly of implements proposed for her training. Then a sal volatile bottle was added. The ceremonies would be long and unremitting. It was expected that even a young woman of education and emancipated morals must swoon like a bridal virgin.

The older woman in charge of her picked up the spanking-strap, thin and broad with its divided tails. She paused to study the swelling wet cheeks of the tights. The female captive shook her fringe clear and twisted her face round, her self-possessed features pretending cold indifference. The woman swung the strap and cracked it down, smacking it hard across the seat of the filmy tights with their sheen of moisture. The young slave-wife's buttocks tensed urgently with the searching smart. The woman thrashed her across the full-moon pallor of her ass again and again. The page-cropped Venus tensed and gasped. Twenty savage smacks of leather landed with explosive impact every time. This older woman wished the cold and disdainful young slave-wife to be truly in agony from the strap, for she should have tasted it when she was still a little girl. It would have curbed her sulks and self-indulgence.

The duenna put the strap down. She turned away, leaving the young woman gasping hard and writhing to contain the anguish. This tensing and squirming of her smartingly tanned buttocks was profoundly exciting. The surging and contorting of her rear cheeks suggested Lesley Hollingsworth ass-upwards in some labor of honeymoon passion or the toils of child-bed. The seat of the wet tights, transparent and skin-smooth, showed a suggestion of the fiery blush which the strap had brought to the firm swelling globes of her backside. The valets closed the curtain to make her think that, though securely fastened, she was concealed.

After allowing her several minutes' privacy, a page-boy tiptoed forward. He turned with a smile to the spectators, and put his finger to his lips. Gently he lifted the curtain to reveal the young slave-girl's rear view, from the elastic waistband of her tights down to the backs of her knees. Soon the spectators were smiling at one another in unconcealed delight.

The wet seat of the tights stretched like a translucent skin on the erotic maturity of the young slave-wife's buttocks, moulding their fullness but also drawn deep into the suggestive crack between them. The delighted onlookers saw that the pearly swellings of her bottom-cheeks were tensing and slackening in a slow, languorous rhythm. Her taut thighs whispered together in the wet mesh. A young woman of her age and build, in such a pose, shows an intimate glimpse between the rear of her legs. The guests saw her ringers working back, rubbing and squeezing, stroking and fondling. They were able to enjoy her intimate moments as the moody young wanton caressed herself. She did it in a cold and self-indulgent way, reflecting her character. Disdainful of male admirers and self-regarding, she seemed to assert her rights rather than to achieve ecstasy.

She had no idea that they were watching her. They let her continue for their own amusement, wanting her to get tantalizingly close to her climax before they stopped her.

Glossy and suggestive, the soaked tights shaped the cheeks of her behind in that fuller and fatter manner. This made the swelling and rounding of her young ass-orbs extremely seductive as she squirmed and panted softly. She was a pretentious young bitch who thought a lot of herself, Lord Stifton added. It was therefore all the most amusing to imagine her response when she realized, that she had offered this display of self-caressing between her thighs and that the smiling voyeurs had enjoyed the fattened swelling and writhing, die ecstatic tightening, the lewd tremors and vulgar rounding of the cheeks of Lesley Hollingsworth's ass! They allowed the older woman to judge the moment when the masturbation had almost brought arousal to crisis. That moment arrived. The duenna brought the strap down in an ear-stunning smack of leather across the wet cheeks of the tights. The young wanton froze in dismay and anguish, frantic to finish herself off.

"Stop that, you young slut!" the woman said. 'Take your hands away."

The valets aided this by holding and pinioning the culprit's wrists.

This account inspired discussion. Mr. Snook liked the idea of a young woman with a high opinion of herself being cunningly humiliated. When Lord Stifton described the next scene, the Venus with the pudding-basin crop secured bottom-upwards over the table, Mr. Snook grinned. The filling of the squirt from the bottle of liquid soap, the full rear insertion and squeezing made him chuckle.

"Tickled her right in the tripes, eh?"

Lord Stifton confirmed it. Mr. Snook approved of a disdainful young madam being required to contain undignified urges during her display and preferably failing to do so. He could scarcely wait to hear of the man who chose to make a boy of the young slave-wife with her short cut and fringe.

His lordship confirmed that it had happened, though with shrill protests and frenzied objection by the belle gargonnee. Whether the strain and enlargement of the rear buttonhole or the flood of male passion in her croupe caused greater outrage was a nice question. His lordship murmured in diplomatic French.

"Le moment du crise arriva pour le ravisseur. D obligea la jeune femme a la coupe garconne a sentir dans sa derriere le jaillisement de la vase seminale. Cet amour perverse la degoutait. Elle cria qu'elle sentit le frai masculin comme la morve chaude dans ses entrailles. Elle avoua que cela la donnait l'envie a vomir. Her ingratitude for a fine pressing of male passion, her shrill revulsion and feminine indignation roused the enthusiasm of the onlookers. It was agreed that the valets should ass-exercise her as well."

No interlude was permitted. The chastiser approached her with the cane. He smiled at the sight, for the amorous valets had vaselined the young woman, thick as honey in the comb between the smooth pearly swellings of Lesley Hollingsworth's bottom-cheeks. Lord Stifton assured us that he bamboo'd her bare buttocks with a severity rarely seen even in the strictest penal institutions. Never did a gaoler cane a delinquent lad with more energy or visible enjoyment. Nor did this deter the executioner from skinning the young woman's bare rear cheeks with his birch. The climax of the demonstration was chastisement with the cunningly-worked training-lash.

This instructive tale sent us all to bed in thoughtful mood. Our raconteur assured us that the fair-skinned female slave was bought by the man who preferred her perverse appeal. I confess I wondered, as you may possibly do, whether this master was not Lord Stifton himself. Several hints in the future persuaded me that he has a collection of captive beauty in a distant land! Mr. Bradford assures me that Lord Stifton has two photographic keepsakes of her in his private study at Stifton Towers.

Justice Bradford, a connoisseur of the art, has seen them and says they were taken surreptitiously before her abduction, for in one she stands near a child, the same moody look in her spoilt beauty as we had heard of, the same plain crop and fringe. The other, equally telling, shows a rear view of her stooping tightly to some garden task, legs braced astride, the swell of her buttocks firm and full in the thin black cotton of working pants. She could not have known, he says, that she was being photographed and this second picture showed the lensman's interest in her ass and the rear parting of her thighs.

I wondered if the surreptitious photographs might not be the work of Mr. Bradford himself. He was certainly the artist of the camera who had taken many pictures of Sally Fenton, Elaine Cox and the other girls without their knowledge. But it was not important. If any man had the young slave-wife in his possession now, it was surely Lord Stifton.

Sleep did not come easily that night, for Lord Stifton's recollections gave one much to ponder. I know nothing of the photographs at Stifton Towers but I felt as if there were "photographic gems" in my own mind, for he conveyed the very sounds as well as the images of the occasion. How vividly he depicted the scene after the tights in their wet state had been exchanged for sleek stockings and a suspender-arch which left her loins and seat bare. The young woman would never have bowed her crop of fair hair and bent over before the spectators had there not been strong hands to oblige her.

His lordship had given us so many small but suggestive details. The rattle of the pencil-slim glass squirt in the bottle and the perfume of the green liquid soap in the warm air. The tight breath of squeezed rubber being filled. Then there came the approach to her from the rear, the soft shifting of her struggles against strong hands, a sharp smack on one full-moon cheek of her bottom to make her keep still. Then her sudden gasp at the cold depth of the intrusion, the tip of the squirt tickling her right in her tripes, as Mr. Snook had hoped. One envisaged the slim six inches of glass inserted at full length in her behind, only the black bulb of rubber still visible as it nestled in the most suggestive manner between her swelling and parted rear orbs! There was the twisting round of her face, sulkiness turning to self-pity, the long parted fringe giving her the air of an overgrown waif. A view from behind of the young slave-wife's firm legs in translucent stockings, crossing a little, one knee pressing into the back of the other as if to check the unease which the presence of the intruder was causing. There was the pleasure of making her wait like this, so that the flutter of panic in her belly might become more teasing. Then the valet smiled at her and took hold of the black rubber bulb between her rear cheeks. There was a quick intake of breath and tensing of buttocks, the squirting just audible in her behind, and then her soft cry of consternation. The posterior vent went urgently small and tight at the withdrawal of the slim glass pencil. Then came squirming and a smack of reprimand as the refilled instrument approached again.

No photograph could capture so much. Presently, Lord Stifton added, there was a cameo of the young slave with her basin-crop of fair hair bowed, obliged to go up a flight of steps to the raised surface of the marble table. Framed by the elastic suspender-arch, the full-moon pallor of her rear cheeks rounded and swayed as she climbed and her stockinged legs rustled in their graceful motion. In this swelling and undulating movement, there was a glimpse of flushed light-haired flesh between the rear of her thighs. The bare cheeks of her backside touched and parted with a whisper and glistening of unwiped soap between them. The valets obliged her to clamber on to the table. As she went forward, buttocks drawn apart as she did so, the onlookers behind her saw the ivory-yellow tone of the skin where the inner surfaces of her buttocks curved in together towards Lesley Hollingsworth's arsehole. Two fine light hairs growing near it had been pasted flat on the smooth yellowed skin by moist soapiness. The voyeurs smiled at her sudden tightening of that rear hole. She must have known they could see it and her sense of vulnerability caused her to tense instinctively. Under her dismissive manner, they guessed that her heart must be pounding with apprehension at what was about to be done to her.

Such casual details caught one's attention. When Lord Stifton described the discipline, he said little of the punishment but added poignant allusions. The man who wished to treat the young slave-wife like an overgrown delinquent page-boy had finished caning her. The sullen self-possessed young woman looked so mournful now, tear-brimming and woebegone, as she waited, strapped ass-upwards over die cushions on the marble table, for the chastiser with the lash. Either the naked smart of the caning or the promise of worse to come made it impossible for her to keep still. Lord Stifton described the intense and interesting silence in the room as the guests waited. It was broken, he said, only by the frustrated gasps of her vain struggling, the creak of the straps as she pulled against them, and by the slippery kissing sound of smooth vaselined flesh as the bare cheeks of Lesley Hollings worth's bottom touched and parted in her squirming.

Mr. Snook, whose enthusiasms in old age are frankly questionable, assured me that no photograph could interest him. Her conduct and its motives were all, he said. Lord Stifton remarked that the urges provoked in the young woman by the squirt were more than she could deny under the searching anguish of the woven lash. She twisted her fair gamine crop this way and that, shaking her parted fringe clear, the sullen young face a study in outrage and dismay. She demanded an end to her discipline, in order to attend to this matter. The demand ended in a wild shrillness as the black lash snaked down across her bare backside. There came a moment, far into the small hours, when the lash smacked her buttocks causing a scream and a surging of her ass. A sign of the greatest rudeness peeped out between Lesley Hollingsworth's bottom-cheeks. In a struggle between nature and dignity she contrived to withdraw it. But not for long. Another lewd peep and a desperate containment was followed by the inevitable consequence. There was a brief pause in the discipline, for one cheek of her behind now displayed an object of great curiosity for the spectators. There was a good deal of amusement, and in some cases excitement, at such enforced little-girl rudeness from a self-possessed young woman. Several of the men who looked most closely were not smiling and it was in their eyes that she must have read thoughts which filled her with panic. A certain pruning of her most prized femininity and a conditioning of her to morbid excitements was reflected in the looks they gave her.

Mr. Snook cared nothing for pictures. He wished to know if the young woman had deliberately presented such a vulgar spectacle. If it were unavoidable, then it was amusing and no more. But if the rudeness which peeped between the cheeks of her backside was deliberate on her part, the triumph for her master was all the greater. The whip would then have taught her a first true lesson in curbing her self-possessed arrogance. Frantic for a respite, this willful and sullen young woman had deliberately shown her disgrace and humiliation.

It was not a matter which concerned most of us, but the problem preoccupied Mr. Snook. Lord Stifton smiled. He assured the old gentleman that the young slave-wife now belonged to a man who required, each time he summoned her, that her loins and backside should be in a condition to perform any act he chose. The very command which Mr. Snook imagined had been given during more than one caning or whipping. There had been outrage and resentment from the young woman. There had also been refusal and resistance. Yet bending tight and securely pinioned, there came a moment when the agony of the whip's embroidery upon the moon-pallor of her bare backside caused a shrill promise of surrender. She behaved as rudely as the most vulgar schoolgirl. For the rest, she was being conditioned day and night to thrill to perverse pleasures. This greatly encouraged Mr. Snook in his belief that, for all her pretentiousness and self-will, such a young woman is no different at heart to a little girl of about half her age, like Jane Mitchener who had very self-pityingly acted so in front of us when her young bottom was severely bamboo'd on justices' night. Mr. Snook confided that he would like to have the training of Jane Mitchener for a few weeks and to explore her possibilities thoroughly.

Next morning our two distinguished guests took their departure, promising that we should be supported and promoted in every way in their power. The Lord Chancellor himself urged us to call upon him if ever there should be need.

With that, the story which held the interest of the papers and the public like a nine days' wonder came to an end. But much has passed since then. Mr. Miles found himself unable to discharge so many duties and, almost at once, I was made master in succession and found myself as great a man as he had been upon my arrival. Having the Lord Chancellor as my protector, Lord Stifton as my patron, Mr. Bowler and Mr. Snook, as well as Lord Cyr among my friends, I have enjoyed my promotion undisturbed.

With the years many things change. Few of the girls I began with are still under my care. But now if you look for fourth-form skittishness you must summon the gamine crop and freckles of Valerie Bishop or the sly blond sensuality of Linda Jennings. To be sure you will find a fifth-form tomboy but Sandra Williams is as smiling and eager to please as Elaine or Michele were defiant and sluttish. If you wish wide-eyed beauty at eighteen, call Debby Woodward or half a dozen others. If you believe me incapable of chastising a mature young woman, a glance at the bare cheeks of Joanne Taylor's backside last night would reassure you. A mature and healthy young woman is well able to take it. The state of Joanne's bottom-cheeks today would make the hangman envious and the whip maker smile!

If you look about you, you will still see some of the heroines of the scandal. Tracey, her fine young profile more brazen and her eyes no longer innocent, parades for hire as a whore in swaggering boots and tight black, with ear-rings and ornaments that are showy and crude. The blond hair is drawn back into a coquettish tail, the trademark of such a young tart. It is nature's tragedy. Pass the window of a noble saddler and you may see Maggie, more vulgar and slatternly than ever at twenty-seven or twenty-eight. The blue eyes are dull and the face harder, the blond hair now coloured deeper and worn in a contrived mane of golden ringlets. Maggie's ass and hips had fattened out. Any man of sense would have predicted it and taken care not to be encumbered with her! But she has honest work under Mr. Bowler's supervision.

And so do several others. As a condition of their leaving reformatory training, Sally Fenton and her elder sister are under the immediate guardianship of Mr. Bowler and will remain so. As for Jane Mitchener, that appealing beauty at fourteen has passed into the care of Mr. Snook, in company with Jackie and Kim. He is a most exacting old gentleman with all of them, but especially with young Jane. There are few days when he does not take the bamboo in his hand and accompany her in her most intimate moments, bolting the door to prevent interruptions and enforcing the performance of all his commands. It is not to be wondered at that Jane Mitchener emerges afterwards, her eyes wider with shock at what she has been obliged to do, bending before him and being caned as she does so. Is there another country in the world that could boast such a diligent and caring magistrate?

Sitting here at my desk, where Master Miles once sat, I might write of more sinister denouements. After the scandal, it was felt best that such young termagants as Elaine or the trollop Noreen, belonging to Mr. Bowler, should pass into the keeping of employers abroad. It was not advisable they should be heard from again. Lord Stifton used his good offices and Mr. Raoul visited us to see what could be done. Fate would have it that his first view of Elaine was the very one that had been my downfall. With several other girls, the youngster was bending to her gardening in the courtyard. The tight smoothness of her blue-grey working-trousers presented most suggestively the slight heaviness of her adolescent thighs and the tomboy cheeks of Elaine Cox's bottom. At that moment she tossed back her fair hair and turned the broad oval of her snub-nosed face with an impudence few such men can resist.

At once he offered to take her off our hands and find employment for her abroad. He asked no reward but, seeing Elaine's big sister bend to her task nearby, he positively insisted that the two girls must go together. Mr. Bowler made the arrangements. It was Lord Frederick Cyr who uncovered the sequel. His lordship avers that Raoul intended both girls for a "remote house beyond the Danube where he was free to inflict the final severities." The elder sister was first conducted there and the second a month later.

Lord Fred writes of a sinister room in that house, to which Raoul would escort a girl and from which he returned alone. Such haunts of extreme voluptuaries were identified in the scandals of 188S but no remedy could be found. Lord Frederick confirmed the use of a trestle to hold the girl astride upon all fours. Pauline's plump nudity was entirely available, he says, the access to her loins and behind unimpeded. Every device which cunning villainy or disciplinary zeal could devise was provided. How different is the lash there from the use of the whip upon Pauline's bottom for wholesome reformatory correction. The savage impalements and devices sparkling in the coals are such as would never be imagined here. That Raoul enjoyed himself with Pauline to the uttermost is alleged. He came out at last, leaving the room empty, for the guilty evidence had been tumbled through a floor-hatch to rocks far below where predators snuffled for food.

To this house, weeks later, he brought the younger tomboy who remained insolent as ever. She knew nothing of the place nor that her big sister had been dealt with there. It is said he conducted her to the chambre funeste on the second evening and that his trusted servants positioned her over the same trestle. Pleasure and discipline alternated. He found every use for which nature designed her sex and then required every amusement which Elaine's young bottom could offer him. Because he took her all the way, much was done that would never be possible otherwise. He performed dark deeds between her sturdy thighs and wrought havoc with cucumber monstrosities in Elaine Cox's ass. Raoul was a man of strong passions and imagination. The length of his attention to Elaine suggests that he enjoyed himself even more with the younger sister than with the elder. He emerged at length, alone and in a state of such exhaustion that he was prostrate for several days.

The truth of this ought to be doubted. Yet whenever Elaine is mentioned, I have observed that Mr. Bowler and Lord Frederick will exchange a knowing smile and change the subject. Certain it is that her fate should warn girls at the tenderest age to follow the path of virtue. To do aught else is to begin a progress which may end in the arms of Raoul and in a den of demise. For this reason, I cannot pass over so disagreeable a topic, thinking it of too great importance.

For the rest, I am aware that Mr. Bowler permitted the departure of Noreen to what sounds like the possession of an Arab pasha. It is likely, for I believe he is a good friend of Ahmed Pasha. That gentleman's harem is said to contain such little madams as Marit Aas and such older wenches as Sarah Thorne, all owing their perfumed bondage to Justice Bowler's arrangements. It is Lord Frederick again who assures us that Mr. Bowler was moved to extremes by Noreen with her firm resolute features and insolent brown eyes, the collar-length of her lank dark hair and fringe. When he entered the room of this strapping young trollop at night, Noreen on her belly over the pillows, singlet-hem pulled high above her bare hips and seat, his thoughts were stern. When, writes Lord Fred, Mr. Bowler viewed the rear parting of her strong thighs and the broad swelling pallor of Noreen's bottom-cheeks, he "dreamt of penalties which lesser men call torture." One knows that he was often active between her legs and that he caned or pony-lashed the young slut's backside to train her to obedience for her own good. Whether he would welcome the chance to torture Noreen, only Mr. Bowler could say. Lord Fred asserts it, adding that

"Pasha Bowler imagined himself concluding this by tightening a sinister leather collar round her throat, slowly and inexorably." How easy to make such allegations-how hard to prove them! Perhaps it is Lord Fred himself whose passion for the young strumpet is such that he would secretly enjoy giving Noreen the coup de grace after a sound whipping!

But let us not overlook such controversies for, once again, they show the perils into which girls of Noreen's type launch themselves when they become resentful and insolent. Do they not inspire in men of disciplinary stamp such sentiments as may lead the female delinquents to a bad end?

I have spoken of what lay in the future, much of which is heresy and gossip. Let us return to the golden days of August, after the Lord Chancellor's visit, when for the first time I might feel that I was truly master of my own destiny as well as that of the girls over whom I now assumed absolute authority.

That summer had many weeks still to run, for the autumn in that part of the world is long and mild. It was a season of harvest and gathering of fruit. The girls of the reformatory were put to such work and in the evening were at my disposal. In the fine suite of rooms which Mr. Miles now designated as mine, I was able to take my leisure at night with two or three of them. You may be sure that I made the best of that opportunity.

My brother justices celebrated their vindication, each in his own house but in a similar manner. Those who accuse Mr. Bowler of sinister thoughts are surely misled. He entered the room where Noreen and Claire lay side by side over the pillows and was so taken with them that it was morning before he came out again. He teased them a little in the most genial manner. "You fat-assed young whore, Noreen!" he would say, with a sounding smack of greeting on her bare bottom. Or else he would turn to the thin pale girl with her red-haired crop. "What a randy young minx you are, Claire! A man may tell it by merely looking at you!" And the impact of bamboo on the slim bare pallor of Claire's buttocks concluded the jest.

Old Mr. Snook revived his energies by retiring to his study, opening the cupboard and taking out his unrivalled collection of knickers, culled from girls whom he has mounted or chastised in the course of a long life. It is so singular a collection that one hopes the old gentleman has made arrangements, when he is gathered to his fathers in the fullness of time, that it may pass to some institution of humane science. He browses over pants worn by schoolgirls and those taken from young wives. What memories they revive in the heart of the venerable Snook! This pair came from Sally Fenton and this from Claire Wicks and that from Cathy Denyer. He smiles at a young woman's black briefs in stretched cotton web and imagines their exciting contrast on mature moon-pale feminine flesh. Lord Stifton presented the old gentleman with this pair of Lesley Hollingsworth's knickers. They were the kind she had liked to wear while still mistress of her fate, always covering them with a skirt. She never imagined her loins and ass would be displayed in them for the enjoyment of a master! In those circumstances, such briefs are bound to be suggestive. Perhaps they are meant to be!

Lord Stifton remarks this. A young woman may choose pants which cover her sex as she stretches them on her haunches rather than her behind. He recalls the little negro lad who followed the proud young horsewoman in her boots and tight riding-jeans on the Ashbee plantation. As the full swell of her firm young buttocks rounded in her walk, the ridged outline of Susan Webb's knickers was clearly seen through the denim. The elastic tightness of the hem arched high over each rear moon from between the back of her legs, leaving the surface of her bottom-cheeks mostly bare under the thin jeans-denim. There can be no doubt, he says, that the young bitch was well aware of the sight she presented and that she did it deliberately to tantalize those who saw her.

Mr. Snook, eagerly examining his trophy, confirmed the case of the young slave-wife to be the same. So long as she was at liberty and able to wear them under a skirt there was no scandal. But the seat of the black briefs was cut far too high and tight to cover the pale erotic swell of Lesley Hollingsworth's bottom-cheeks completely. Made to parade in such underpants before her master and his guests, she must have felt appallingly vulnerable and apprehensive. And indeed she was, chuckled Mr. Snook, returning to a minute examination of her knickers.

And what passes here, in the house of which I am now master, these many years ago? I am content with three, who accompany me to bed. It is an evening when I cannot resist the nymph-like grace of Tracey, the charming inexperience of Jane, and the dark intense eyes of Kim. I might write of Jane's wondering innocence as her mouth closes obediently over manhood's stiffened resolve. I might hint at Kim with her knees drawn up and her femininity alluringly presented. I might talk scandal of stretching and passion discharged in the tightness of Tracey Hope's bottom. But here my story ends and, you will understand, the time has come to close the door and be alone with the beauties of my choice. I envy no man when I have three such girls to adorn my room. I would not change places with Mr. Snook, holding the stretched black briefs open, breathing the air of the young slave-wife's pants and browsing over them. Nor would I change for Claire and Noreen on Mr. Bowler's bed. I am content with what I have. I may watch Jane mouthing so prettily. I can observe the wide dark eyes of Kim as her....

*** NOTE: The story ends at this point ***

THE END