AN UNHAPPY BIRTHDAY
by Tom Justin
It was a cold, blustery January day and the wind whipping through the
English countryside had a chilling bite to it. Inside Brisbane manor, young
Lady Susan Brisbane sat on the edge of her bed, waiting expectantly. The
tawny-haired beauty had a frown of apprehension on her pretty face as her wide,
soft, brown eyes alternated between the clock on the wall and the closed door of
her room. She was attired for the cold in knee-length, calf-skin boots, and a
full, fox fur coat with matching hat. For all appearances, the young noblewoman
look ready for a carriage ride into the village for a pleasant lunch and
shopping perhaps.
However, the Earl of Coventry's daughter and only offspring did not have a
pleasant day awaiting her, even if it was her birthday. Outside in the breezy
courtyard, members of the household staff were already beginning to assemble.
And inside the warmth of her room beneath the expensive garment that covered
her, the Lady Susan Brisbane was completely nude. For at exactly twelve noon,
the hour of her birth, she would be led outside, stripped naked before the eyes
of her varied audience, and given nineteen lashes with a riding switch, one for
each year of her age, across her bare buttocks.
Four selected members from the stable staff would administer the birthday
thrashing, each one striving to best the other. At the Earl's decree, the man
causing his daughter to flinch and break pose during punishment would be awarded
a gold sovereign for his efforts. As for the young mistress, she would then be
secured to the whipping post for the remaining strokes of her sentence, after
which Sir Charles himself would deliver an additional supplement of twice the
number of cuts that the Lady Susan had remaining from her count when she
flinched.
Since her thirteenth year, the lovely, young noblewoman had endured this
painful and humiliating degradation. The girl's mother had passed away that
year, and the Earl, exasperated and angered that his wife had not bore him a
son, vowed that his only heir would dearly earn and be worthy of the title and
property that would be bequeathed to her when she became of age. Thus under the
stern tutelage of her father, and with many a stroke of the rod to her bare
backside for any shortcomings, the Lady Susan developed into one of the top
horseback riders and best marksmen in all of Coventry. The birthday whippings
were one of the trials imposed by the Earl to test his daughter's resolve and
fortitude, and they would continue until she reached the age of twenty-one.
To those gathered in the courtyard, the annual, public dressing down of the
aristocratic, young beauty was a momentous occasion; viewed with a variety of
diverse emotions. Many of the household staff had been under the employ of the
Brisbanes for generations and had watched the Lady Susan grow from a small child
into a beautiful, young woman. And while some of the women present may have
regarded the flogging of the girl's naked backside with shocked horror and
indignation, others might have felt only a simple curiosity or compassion for
one so far above their station. Still others in the crowd might view the searing
agony of their future mistress with mirth and a sense of perverse vindication.
Despite the range of sentiments, few missed this event and the women with
husbands present all benefited from the salacious spectacle of the fair-skinned
beauty's naked charms and her writhing under the lash when they retired to their
conjugal beds with their aroused lovers.
Approaching footsteps in the hall told the Lady Susan that her time of
travail was near. The condemned beauty rose from her bed as she heard the
respectful tapping at the door. She straightened her hat then walked to the door
and let in the two maids that would lead her to her prescribed penance. One of
the women had been with the household for many years while the other one was
much younger and seemed ill at ease with her unusual duty.
The older of the two asked softy, Are you ready, Miss?"
The Lady Susan inclined her head and smiled wanly.
The two servants stepped aside to let their mistress pass, then fell in step
behind her as she proceeded down the hallway. The younger maid opened the door
to the courtyard and both warmly-clad women followed the Lady Susan outside.
A hush fell over the gathered assemblage of onlookers as they saw the door
open and the three women approaching. The two servants each gently took hold of
their mistress's arm and led her into the center of the courtyard. To one side
stood the girl's father along with the four men who would administer the
strokes.
The young woman glance briefly at the Earl's stony-faced visage then down at
the black, rapier-like, whalebone switch which he flexed in his hands. The Lady
Susan's eyes flickered briefly over her eminent chastisers. Two of the men she
did not recognize while the other two she knew quite well, one too well.
Mr. Gerard, the head groom, was the man she least wanted to see as one of
those chosen to whip her. His skill with the lash was legendary and he was
often called on by members of the household to corporally punish an errant wife
or daughter. The Lady Susan had never endured Mr. Gerard's allotment of strokes
to her bare bottom without flinching during punishment. And once, when she was
sixteen, he had been the first to have a go at her and she had reached back
after only four strokes; thus earning herself an extra twenty-four lashes from
her father after her initial sixteen cuts.
The leather-wrapped switch, with its fiendishly-stinging, braided and waxed
trainer was a fearful implement of fustigation, more suited for application to
the backside of a horse than the tender buttocks of a woman. The young mistress
had never made it to the end of her whipping without breaking down and grabbing
back at her scalded nates. However, except for that disastrous sixteenth
birthday whipping, the Lady Susan's fortitude had steadily improved as she
managed to decrease the number of extra strokes each successive year. It was a
known fact that many members of the household ran a betting lottery on the
stroke that she would flinch on during punishment.
The other man that the condemned beauty recognized was Tommy Parkins, one of
the horse trainers. He was several years older than her, and the Lady Susan
always felt uncomfortable under his searching gaze. Once, when the contrite,
young noblewoman stumbled groaning from the barn after a bare-bottomed strapping
from her father for some minor infraction, she ran right into Tommy Parkins.
The burning in her face had been almost as bad as her scorched behind. She vowed
that he would not be the one to make her flinch.
The grim-faced Earl nodded to his daughter's hand-maidens and the older of
the two women gently nudged the young mistress in the small of the back. The
Lady Susan Brisbane stepped forward and unbelted her fur garment which the
younger maid gently slid from her shoulders.
The chorused sigh of awe that silenced the crowd spoke volumes of the young
mistress's loveliness as she stood bravely, arms at her sides, gazing
impassively above the heads of the crowd.
The willowy slender nudity of the Lady Susan seemed dwarfed by the brawny
horsemen who would thrash her as the appreciative males in the audience gazed
covertly at her firm highset round breasts with their wide dark-coral aureolae
and crinkly pink nipples, already stiffening in the frigid air of this wintry
morning. The courageous young martyr's slim waist belied her full gently
curving hips which broadened into a pair of voluptuously-contoured, milky-white
buttocks.
The thin, sinuous crease which separated those ivory hillocks gradually
broadened as it near the base to merge with her splendid, long and
gracefully-curved thighs and supple calves. The fleecy, brownish curls of the
Lady Susan's love-thatch were of darker shade that the tawny tresses piled high
beneath her fur hat. That was the young beauty's only shield of modesty.
To trollops and commoners who earned it, the whip was a fact of their
existence. But this was an Earl's daughter placed naked for the delectation of
the crowd. Though many a man in the audience must have lusted for the chaste
nudity of their master's daughter, their respect for the Brisbane royalty
prevented any murmured comments on the Lady Susan's naked charms.
The time of atonement for the condemned beauty was at hand as the
indomitable Earl handed the riding whip to one of the men and announced, "First
five, Hopkin."
The stalwart stableman took the offered switch and stepped forward.
The Lady Susan turned her head and watched as her first chastiser positioned
himself on the right side of her nude body, the flexible instrument of
correction clenched firmly in his hand. It was apparent that the man was
left-handed and would lash the young noblewoman's bare buttocks from the right
side. The sentenced penitent could grasp a slight amount of solace in knowing
that at least five of the searing strokes of her count would impart the brunt of
their damage to the usually less punished, left cheek of her bottom; thus more
evenly distributing the stripes on her flesh. However, many of the groomsmen
would occasionally regale their victim's proffered bare behind with backhand
slashes of the whip to demonstrate their dexterity and gain favor with their
employer and the watching crowd.
All four of the chosen executioners had spent several evenings in the barn
practicing their swings on stacked grain bags and leathern bolsters, striving to
obtain the maximum force in their blows. It was considered an honor to be
picked for the Lady Susan's birthday thrashing, and each man wanted to be sure
to acquit himself well and exact the ultimate smart from each stinging stripe.
Sensing that her Calvary was eminent, the slender aristocratic beauty turned
her head forward and placed her hands in cross over her breasts. It was not out
of modesty that the young martyr assumed this position for she knew that the
crowd would look their fill at more private parts of her chaste body during her
writhing under the lash. However, to stand impassively with arms at her sides
while the lash seared her tender flesh only invited the involuntary rushing of
her hands to her buttocks and the subsequent extra ration of pain while bound to
the whipping post. The Lady Susan found that she could sustain herself better in
this position as well as afford her shivering body a certain measure of warmth
against the freezing cold. And by cupping the snowy mounds of her bosom in her
hands, she prevented the salacious spectacle of her bobbing breasts to the men
in the audience as her body jerked and danced to the cadence of the whip. A look
of stoic acceptance and resignation was evident in the pale oval beauty of the
girl's face as she awaited the first stroke.
The Earl of Coventry stepped forward, arms folded across his chest. It was
he that would count the strokes of his daughter's infliction.
George Hopkins, the Lady Susan's first executioner looked expectantly at his
employer for a sign to begin. Sir Charles inclined his head slightly in an
almost imperceptible nod.
The man addressed his luscious naked target, appraising the firm
finely-grained flesh of the young mistress's ripe bottom ovals. He lowered the
switch to the ground as he measured his distance then slowly drew back his left
arm.
The Lady Susan heard the chorused hush of the crowd and knew that the
punishing rod had risen and was in route to deliver its first biting kiss to her
condemned behind. The lovely martyr bowed her head and set her teeth against her
underlip, her nude body tensed and waiting.
A sharp whirr preceded the cut, and the rapier-like switch landed with a
snapping impact against the upper summits of both naked bottomglobes,
momentarily chasing the blood from the skin before it sprang back, leaving its
swelling darkening weal.
The bare cheeks of the girl's whipped bottom wriggled and shook under the
stinging smart of the stroke and her body jerked convulsively. As the Lady
Susan arched her hips forward, her head lifted and her face grimaced but only a
hiss of sucked in breath attested to her suffering.
"One!" Sir Charles Brisbane impassively counted.
The first stroke of the young noblewoman's birthday whipping had been
directed at the top of her hips at the beginning of the shadowy furrow that
separated the velvety-sheened, lower hemispheres of her opulent backside. The
girl's chastiser watched as the resonant weal deepened and darkened as the
wintry air caressed his victim's palpitating flesh. He again lowered the limber,
black wand to the ground and gauged his distance, moving slightly back and to
the right.
There was an angry swish as the rod sang through the air and curled around
the huddling nether globes of the Lady Susan's helplessly-proffered behind,
imprinting another lurid weal on that tender flesh. Once more, the slender
beauty's lithe body stiffened under the scalding bite of the lash and her creamy
bottomcheeks crispened at once while her hips and loins spasmodically lunged
away from the fiery-hot pain.
A vivid, parallel welt, perhaps an inch below the first stripe sprang up at
once on the girl's soft, sensitive skin and she ground her teeth furiously to
hold back any outcry. However, the uncontrollable quivering that ran up the
stoic penitent's thighs and into the tightening cheeks of her shapely
buttocks told the watching crowd that she had not been impervious to the
stroke.
"Two!" The Lady Susan's father announced.
George Hopkins paused as he contemplated the next cut of the five lashes he
would administer. The man knew from the previous birthday thrashings that
he had seen the young mistress endure, that she would not break down
under his count. Therefore rather than slash haphazardly and
ruthlessly at the enticingly-rounded curves of the girl's bare behind in
an effort to break her spirit, he chose to demonstrate his expertise by evenly
spacing the lines of red and purple on the canvas of pale flesh erotically
delivered to him.
With that thought in mind, the burly groomsman stepped forward and sent
the third cut slashing across the ripest curves of the Lady Susan's
creamy-skinned posterior.
The leathern switch made a rifle-like crack as wrapped around the cringing
mounds of the sentenced martyr's shuddering buttocks and the girl's eyes opened
wide under the ferocious stinging impact as a stifled "Uhhh!" escaped
her desperately compressed lips.
A third horizontal stripe marred the alabaster smoothness of the
lovely sufferer's soft skin as the young noblewoman's father counted the third
stroke.
The slim shoulders of the condemned beauty rose and fell with her quickened
breathing and the delicate nostrils of her nose dilated as she waited
apprehensively for the next lash.
Three raised bands of red and purple now streaked the ivory beauty of the
Lady Susan's naked backside in regular lines and the tender flesh of her
inflamed buttocks twitched and quivered in nervous anticipation of more
punishment. Those standing to the side of the shivering, young woman's slender
nudity could see the muscles in her jaw knot as she steeled herself for the
resumption of her whipping.
The fourth stroke fairly splatted into the limpened cheeks of the
girl's welt-ridged buttocks as the braided tail of the switch plucked venomously
at the yielding flesh of her left bottomglobe. Under the impetus of the blow,
the courageous young beauty's head lifted and a choking sob escaped her
throat. Tears had begun to trickle from the corners of the Lady Susan's
tightly-closed eyes and she sub-consciously kneaded the firm mounds of her
clasped breasts in an effort to sustain herself.
"Four!" The master of Brisbane manor called out steadily.
The lurid, blood-thickened weals that traversed the
beautifully-proportioned mounds of the naked sufferer's whipped behind
contrasted sharply with the rest of her lovely white body. The stripes were
evenly spaced, starting at the top of the hips and descending down the shivering
expanse of trembling flesh. As George Hopkins measured his distance for the
fifth and final stroke of his allotment, the Lady Susan bowed her head and
closed her eyes as if in silent prayer.
Determined to acquit himself well before his employer and fellow
groomsmen, the resolute chastiser sent the snickering lash whistling into
the twin globes of his hapless victim's writhing buttocks with the full strength
of his arm, grunting as he struck.
As the hissing leather wand wrapped around the defenseless, lower curves of
her clenching bottom rounds, the young Lady Susan arched up on her toes
and clamped her lips tightly together to stifle her scream. Her tear-wet eyes
opened wide and her stung nether cheeks wobbled heavily under the stinging smart
of the stroke, as an inky-blue contusion, hard and thick, appeared at the end
of the weal when the twine-wrapped trainer of the whip peeled away from the
girl's undulating left buttock.
"Five!" The girl's father proclaimed
The stern parent observed the striated flesh of his daughter's
thrashed backside and gave a curt nod of approval to his horseman as he took the
supple switch from him. From her hips to the base of her buttocks, the Lady
Susan's skin bore five, perfectly-spaced, parallel stripes. The weals
were bright red on the right, then they thickened and darkened into a
hard purplish band on the more punished left buttock where the tip of the lash
had imparted its fiendish sting.
The Earl of Coventry's naked, nineteen year-old daughter glanced fretfully
over her shoulder and watched her father pass the supple rod to the next man.
She groaned with dismay when she saw young Tommy Parkins eagerly accept the
leather-wrapped switch. Despite the cold which chilled her goose-bumped flesh,
the anguished beauty felt a blush warm her face and neck.
While the other three men selected to thrash the Lady Susan were all in
their middle years and perhaps had daughters her age whom they no doubt
punished corporally, Tommy Parkins was in his early twenties, just several
years older than the sentenced, young penitent. The red-faced, future
mistress of Brisbane manor felt an added shame at being whipped
publicly by so young a commoner and she tightened her resolve to remain
impassive under his allotment of strokes. She took several deep breaths and
straightened her proud shoulders as she awaited the next assault to her bare
bottom.
Swissshh.... craacckkk! !!
The first stroke of Tommy Parkins count landed with a loud crack across the
luscious hillocks of the Lady Susan's red-streaked posterior and the stung
nether cheeks shook vigorously in response. A swollen imprint of the
lash immediately appeared between two of the parallel weals left by George
Hopkins on the young woman's creamy flesh. The girl's nude body jerked
convulsively under the burning cut and a barely audible gasp escaped her
trembling lips.
"Six!" Sir Charles Brisbane solemnly intoned.
Some murmurs of approval could be heard amidst the gathered crowd
as they observed the effects of Tommy Parkins's first stroke. The crimson
stripe that he inflicted on his hapless victim's posterior was accurately placed
so as not to intersect any of the other raised welts. And the darkened,
angry ridge branded on the Lady Susan's exquisitely-contoured,
right bottomcheek indicating that the tip of the lash had spent its venom right
into the buttock and not around the hip where the pain would be less.
Mr. Gerard, the head groom, also watched intently for he had tutored the
young man on how to apply the lash thus his skill was indirectly tested as well.
He smiled with silent approval at the placement of the first stroke and eyed his
assistant as he prepared to deliver the next cut.
Proving he was no novice, Tommy Parkins waited patiently for the cheeks
of his victim's bottom to relax their contraction then he drew back his
strong right arm and sent the lash sweeping out.
The snickering leather wand seemed to weld itself momentarily to
the writhing flesh of the Lady Susan's cringing bottom rounds before it
snapped back elastically leaving its livid, burgundy weal. Once again,
the lovely sufferer's nude body lurched spasmodically under the biting kiss of
the lash and her contorted, tear-streaked face lifted.
"Seven!" The girl's father announced.
As the firm globes of her throbbing posterior jiggled and quaked in
torment, the contrite, young noblewoman glanced briefly over her shoulder at her
executioner, her stricken face red with shame. She shot the young
horseman an indignant stare then turned her anguished face back and
braced herself for the next stroke.
The red lines etched on the barred flesh of the Lady Susan's condemned
buttocks looked like they had been drawn with a ruler so evenly were they
placed. It was evident that Tommy Parkins intended to demonstrate his skill and
accuracy with the whip rather than try to break the spirit of his courageous
and beautiful victim.
With that purpose in mind, the Lady Susan's youthful executioner
methodically dealt the remaining three strokes of the prescribed allotment to
the wriggling, striped, lower hemispheres of her defenseless bare bottom.
While the young man bore no animosity towards his lovely prey, he applied the
whip with vigor, causing the jellied mounds of the naked girl's lovely
posterior to jump and dance in clenching bounds. Tommy Parkins further
demonstrated his proficiency with the whip by not hurrying the strokes, but
patiently waiting for the convulsed, welt-ridged cheeks of his victim's
martyred behind to relax their muscular contractions before dealing the
next whistling cut. Thus after the frightful burning of each searing stroke,
the Lady Susan had ample time to taste the agonizing suspense of
waiting for the next one.
The stoic, young noblewoman bore her Calvary with amazing fortitude,
manifesting her suffering only by silent tears and an occasional dull gasp.
And while she kept her legs ramrod straight and her thighs pressed tightly
together as the whip licked and snapped at her throbbing, scalded
nether regions; the Lady Susan could not prevent the involuntary lewd
gyrations of her hips and the salacious arching of her nude body as her
vulnerably-jutting buttocks sustained the stinging fury of the lash.
When Tommy Parkins lowered his arm after the tenth stroke of the
girl's sentence, tears were streaming down the Lady Susan's pale cheeks and her
pretty face was drawn with suffering. The once milky skin of her
voluptuously-curved buttocks was a cauldron of fiery welts and the palpitating,
vividly-streaked mounds of her behind drew and twitched where the lash had
bitten.
Tommy Parkins had wielded the rapier-like switch so skillfully that
nowhere on the young mistress's punished backside did any of the weals
criss-cross one another. The Lady Susan's corrugated flesh looked like she had
sat down on a broiler as her equally-lined right buttock now matched its
unfortunate twin. The young stablehand had a modest smile on his handsome
face when he handed the evil length of black whalebone back to his employer.
Now it was the turn of Mr. Gerard, the head groom, and a murmur could be
heard among the spectators as The Earl of Coventry passed him the wicked tool of
punishment.
The Lady Susan turned her tear-streaked face back and watched the grim
preliminary to the resumption of her thrashing. The shivering, naked
beauty groaned with despair when she saw who her next executioner was,
and nervous ripplings shook the welted cheeks of her condemned behind. Her lips
were trembling when she turned her head back and the lovely martyr's slim
shoulders rose and fell with her quickened breathing.
Mr. Gerard surveyed the pale, carmine-streaked expanse of his victim's
ivory-sheened bottom. The ten previous cuts had been so evenly-spaced that
where next the whip would strike the Lady Susan's voluptuous backside, the
stripe would criss-cross the initial marks, increasing the girl's torment. A
taut silence fell over the crowd as Mr. Gerard slowly raised his arm.
Craaackkk!!!!
A rifle-like report echoed in the uneasy stillness of the courtyard as
the whistling lash curled around the cringing rotundities of the Lady
Susan's bare bottom, imprinting a diagonal crimson streak from the edge of
her right hip across the tightening nether ovals and biting keenly
against the base of the left buttock. Under the impetus of the
blow, the girl's nude body involuntarily arched forward, her head lifted,
and a barely audible gasp of "Aahhh!" was torn from her bitten lips.
"Eleven!" Sir Charles Brisbane proclaimed.
To those in attendance, the first stroke of Mr. Gerard's count appeared to
have been delivered with an almost lazy sweep of the man's arm, but the
frenzied spasming of the Lady Susan's red-striped, gluteal masses as the braided
tail of the switch plucked at her buttery flesh told of the punishing fury of
the stroke and the expertise of the one wielding the lash. The contrite,
young noblewoman shifted her feet nervously as she prepared for the next
stroke.
For the twelfth lash, Mr. Gerard stepped to his right and applied a
formidable, backhand cut, thus inscribing a vivid X over the Lady Susan's
huddling, lower hemispheres. Again, the courageous, young sufferer uttered a
muffled groan and her bare hips jerked spasmodically as the burning pangs of the
whip attacked her piteously-welted backside. The girl stamped her booted feet
in an effort to shake off the stinging smart and the crisscrossed mounds of her
buttocks jiggled lewdly in response.
"Twelve!" Sir Charles grimly announced.
The murmur of the onlookers grew louder as they sensed the weakening of
their employer's daughter under the lash. Tears were rivuleting down the
anguished beauty's drawn face and her teeth were chattering with cold and fear
as she dug her fingers into the clenched mounds of her breasts and
braced herself for the next onslaught of pain. The future mistress of
Brisbane manor had now reached the previous year's count of her
chastisement that she had broken down on and the lurid weals blazed obscenely
against the beautiful, white smoothness of her beaten bottom ovals.
Mr. Gerard watched the tumified flesh of his victim's violently-striated
bottomglobes twitch and shiver as the muscles of her bottom contracted in
nervous spasms. Like his predecessors, the man bore no malice towards the Lady
Susan, he was just fulfilling his duty. With that purpose in mind, the head
groom slowly drew back his arm.
Huiisshhh!!!!!!!
A high-pitched zipping sound preceded the thirteenth lash, and the switch
cut eel-like into the full, pale moons of the girl's shapely bottom. Under this
atrocious, searing sting of the whip, the Lady Susan's knees bent and her hands
momentarily left the sanctity of her clenched bosom. The fiery, darkening weal
that sprang up on the raw flesh of the young mistress's shuddering right
bottomglobe showed how the tough trainer had clawed into her tender flesh.
A choking sob was torn from the courageous beauty's trembling lips as her
father called out "Thirteen."
The Lady Susan's breasts were heaving with sobs of pain and anguish as she
turned her contorted, tear-stained face back imploringly over her shoulder at
her grim executioner. The agonized cheeks of the girl's martyred behind shook
with enervating torment and she strove desperately to rally her waning
endurance. The warmly-clad assemblage on onlookers watched attentively as Mr.
Gerard measured his distance for the next cut.
Swisshhh!!
The fourteenth stroke landed with a sharp impact against the surging mounds
of the Lady Susan's swollen backside, wresting another strangled cry from the
lovely, young sufferer. As the supple, braided lash clung tenaciously to her
streaked and quivering bottom ovals, the naked mistress's left leg lifted and
she twisted her hips furiously trying to resist the pitiless cruelty of the
whipping.
Under this lewd gyration of her pain-racked body, the slender beauty
involuntarily exposed the moist, pink lips of her sex to the profaning eyes of
the eagerly-watching crowd. Also, as she raised her leg, the Lady Susan's lush,
welt--ridged, left bottomcheek rounded out; vulnerably presenting an area of her
tortured behind heretofore unscathed by the lash.
Resolved to win the gold sovereign and seizing the opportunity offered by
the defenseless exposure of his victim's excoriated buttocks, Mr. Gerard
skillfully delivered the telling fifteenth blow. It was an
excruciatingly-accurate cut, delivered backhand from left to right with the full
strength of the man's arm.
As the sinister, leather wand burrowed into the Lady Susan's cringing lower
hemispheres, Mr. Gerard adroitly snapped his wrist to make the twine-wrapped
trainer bite with venom into the sensitive undercurve of the girl's sore left
bottomglobe. For a moment there was almost total silence as the searching
whipcord seemed to visibly lift the jellied mass of welted flesh. The Lady
Susan threw her head back and a tear-choked scream was torn from her as she
rushed her hands to her flaming bottomcheeks, digging her fingers into the
resilient mounds of raw smarting flesh. Sobbing brokenly, the anguished
noblewoman doubled over, shamelessly kneaded her scalded nates as tangled
tresses of tawny hair spilled out from beneath her skewed fur hat.
After a few moments the girl's lamentations subsided and she slowly
straightened her pain-racked body. The condemned beauty removed her hat and
handed it to one of her waiting handmaidens. She brushed several tear-wet
strands of hair from her flushed face, glanced briefly at her impassive father,
then advanced naked, head high to the whipping post.
The Lady Susan's fourth chastiser received her. The stout horseman raised
the slender beauty's arms above her head and fastened her wrists with hempen
cord to a heavy iron ring at the top of the post. Constrained to stand on tip
toe, the turgid nipples of the young woman's upturned breasts pressed against
the chafing wood of the rough wooden column.
Although her martyrdom was far from over, the Lady Susan felt a sense of
solace as she pressed her nude body against the post that would hold her for the
remainder of her punishment. For now that she had broken down, the waning
strength that the courageous martyr had expended striving to remain serene and
stoic under the lash could be better used to bear the rest of her whipping.
Out of maiden modesty, she instinctively contracted the muscles of her
luridly-wealed bottom in a vain attempt to conceal the shameful intimacy of the
shadowy crease between her violently-twitching, palpitating hillocks.
The sentenced penitent turned her agonized face back over her white shoulder
and watched her grim-faced executioner step into position. With a groan, the
Lady Susan Brisbane bowed her head and steeled herself for the resumption of her
thrashing while the lividly-streaked cheeks of her swollen behind trembled and
shook in dire apprehension of what lay in store for them.
Richard Alexander was the name of the fourth man chosen to flog the future
mistress of Brisbane manor. The supple switch dangled ominously from the
horseman's hand as he gauged his distance and slowly drew back his arm.
Swissshh.....craaackkk!
The evil length of black whalebone sang through the air and landed with
cruel impact against the fullest curves of the Lady Susan's bare buttocks.
Under the savage bite of the lash, the girl's nude body lunged forward into the
rough wood post to which she was bound and a strangled cry of "Aahhh!" was
wrested from her trembling lips.
"Sixteen." Sir Charles announced.
As the tapering end of the switch peeled away from the clenching mound of
the Lady Susan's spasming right buttock, a thick weal immediately sprang up,
reddening to purple.
With hardly a moment of respite, the hapless sufferer's skillful
executioner stepped to his right and delivered a vicious backhand cut of
the switch across the base of the young beauty's piteously-welted, bare
backside. A sobbing wail was torn from the Lady Susan's gaping mouth as her
head lifted and she ground her fleecy mound salaciously into the chafing wood of
the whipping post.
A diagonal, crimson stripe blazed like a brand across the quaking globes
of the naked penitent's prominently-jutting posterior as she raised her
tear-blurred eyes to the cold, leaden sky. Bound as she was, arching forward
on the balls of her feet, the least movement of the lovely martyr's
trimly-muscled thighs and calves cause her acute torture as the inflamed cheeks
of her bottom twitched and contracted, sending frightful waves of suffering
through her violently-striated flesh. Also, as the Lady Susan's will
weakened under the savage heat of her birthday whipping, her pain-racked
body was less able to do her bidding and the involuntary, lewd yawning
and contracting of her throbbing bottom ovals added to the chaste
beauty's painful humiliation.
The final two strokes of Richard Alexander's allotted four were
administered in the same manner as the first two, with sweeping forehand and
backhand swings of the man's strong right arm. As the braided switch
inflicted its naked agony on her tenderest flesh, the Lady Susan twisted her
hips furiously from side to side in a desperate attempt to disperse the
flaming fury in her bare, abused behind. Under this lascivious dance of pain,
the firm, welt-ridged mounds of the young mistress's scorched buttocks jiggled
and quaked with enervating torment and the courtyard rang with her
heart-rending cries.
Tears were streaming down the courageous beauty's contorted face when
she turned her head to one side, her eyes dilated and ravaged with suffering.
The resilient, pear-shaped turrets of the Lady Susan's nude breasts heaved and
flattened against the unyielding wood of the upright post and the
uncontrollable muscular spasms that permeated the luridly-wealed, lower
hillocks of her punished behind were a salacious treat for the men in the
audience.
Now it was the turn of the girl's father and an uneasy hush fell over the
crowd as the Earl of Coventry himself stepped forward. It was he that
would administer the additional supplement of eight strokes, double the number
of cuts that the Lady Susan had remaining of her original count of nineteen
when she flinched on Mr. Gerard's fifteenth stroke.
Only a few pale patches of unmarked flesh could be seen amidst the
criss-crossed swellings that covered the softly-rounded globes of the young
mistress's severely-whipped posterior. And although the courageous beauty's
total lash count had decreased each year with her improved endurance of pain,
the mental anguish of baring her ripening bodily charms as she matured into
a woman weighed heavily on the Lady Susan's mind as she suffered her
shameful penance.
The bound noblewoman turned her drawn face back and watched her
father approach. Her eyes briefly met those of her parent perhaps hoping for
a glimmer of empathy in the man's cold, dark eyes. Finding none, the
Lady Susan's brimming eyes seemed to send her father a message of quiet
defiance as if to saying, "You sentenced me to this. Do your damnedest."
Wiping a tear from her face with her upraised arm, the young woman pressed
her slender nakedness against the post which held her and awaited the
continuation of her harsh Calvary.
Sir Charles Brisbane contemplated the emblazoned nudity of his
daughter's satiny bottomglobes as she contracted her gluteal muscles in
desperate defense against the impending sting of the lash. The enforced
traction of the lovely victim's stance put the sensitive undercurve of her
proffered buttocks wholly on display, vulnerably exposing the most tender
regions of the female posterior. With tight-lipped resolve, the Earl of
Coventry slowly raised the rapier-like switch.
To the nineteen aching, throbbing welts across the Lady Susan's opulent
red-streaked nether globes; eight excruciating slices were added. The
girl's father cut with long driving strokes, just under the hemispherical curve
of the hapless sufferer's wobbling buttocks and dexterously drawing the
cuts in to better slice into the flesh.
The strokes landed with a savage whip-like impact and the plump
rotundities of the Lady Susan's luscious bottom rounds jumped and quivered
as each cut hit her. Under the biting fury of the lash, the girl's nude body
jerked fitfully like a puppet on a string and choking cries answered each
stroke. The old Earl could keep his daughter on a pinnacle of pain for almost
twenty seconds between cuts before driving the next stroke in when the atrocious
smart was at its peak.
The watching crowd heard the vicious whistle preceding each lash and saw
the spasmodic, wrenching lunges of the condemned beauty's naked body as
she feverishly tried to escape the hissing cruelty of the snapping whip.
Under the frightful pain which burned her flesh, the Lady Susan's
scorched bottomcheeks began to open and close spasmodically as if trying to
diminish the torment. And as the hardened, twine-wrapped trainer plucked at
the jellied flesh of her writhing, cringing buttocks, the licentious yawning
of those tortured gluteal masses freely exposed the pouting conch shell of
her sex just below those jutting, striped globes.
The Earl of Coventry finished his daughter's chastisement with
an agonizing stroke which bit over the base of the girl's shuddering behind and
into the tender crease between her beaten, quaking bottomcheeks.
The Lady Susan uttered a shrill cry of torment and her twisting body jerked
convulsively against the post which held her. Under this pernicious attack
on her most sensitive flesh, the young mistress's legs splayed open wide,
freely exposing her most private parts to the goggling assembly of onlookers.
The beautiful, whimpering sufferer was sobbing brokenly when her stern parent
lowered his arm and turned away.
The harsh birthday thrashing had turned the Lady Susan's creamy-skinned
bottom into a mass of livid welts and the corrugated flesh of her posterior
globes continued to twitch and shiver uncontrollably. The cords around the
girl's wrists had dug in during her frantic tuggings, leaving purplish weals and
raw scratches as well.
The slender beauty turned her head to one side and rested her pale
cheek on her shoulder as the crowd slowly dispersed. It was not every day that
the daughter of an Earl was placed naked and whipped for their delectation, and
the tapestry of weals on the Lady Susan's bare skin was an erotic treat for many
a lustful eye in the audience.
After the last servant had departed, the two maids loosed the Lady
Susan's bonds and covered their shivering mistress's nude body with her coat.
Supported by her two sympathetic handmaidens, the Lady Susan hobbled weakly from
the arena of her ignominious degradation thankful that her martyrdom was over.
At each faltering step, the sniffling tearful young noblewoman
grimaced as the touch of her coat against her swollen bare bottom
revived the searing pangs of her whipping. And as she forced her
pain-racked body to obey its commands, the beautiful young sufferer's only
thoughts were of the fact that she had only two more birthdays to
endure.................two more to endure.
