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From: Pentland <pentland@electronic-businesses.org>
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Subject: Complete bdsm/bondage story RULED BY THE ROD
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===================

My friend the late 'Stephen Rawlings' was one of the great writers of
bdsm/bondage fiction, and here is an example of his work, set in
England in the Victorian era, as several of his books are. I am proud
to host his library at my site bdsmbooks.com, which is well worth a
visit, even if I am a little biased! The free chapters alone will keep
you aroused for many an hour.

RULED BY THE ROD
BY STEPHEN RAWLINGS
Copyright resides with author
Available from http://www.bdsmbooks.com

Chapter 1 A NEW BEGINNING

I remember that Marion felt it should be she that went up to Papa
after supper.
  "After all," she said, "I am the eldest, and responsible for keeping
house. It is not as though Papa's complaint is of some specific fault,
the onus for which we could decide between the three of us, but a
declaration that an example should be made to ensure a devout
attention to our duties in future."
  Marion is indeed the eldest daughter, at twenty-seven, then comes
Charlotte, twenty-four, and as for me, I have just turned twenty. I
think I must be Papa's favourite, for he pays me much attention.
  "But Marion," exclaimed Charlotte, "your buttocks were well thrashed
only two days past. I dare say you still bleed in your drawers, he
beat you so."
  "Charlotte, I blush to hear you speak thus. In any case, we do not
customarily display the results of our corrections, and you would not
have been aware of the state of mine, if you had not slipped into my
room, when my mind was on other things."
  "That I can well imagine," Charlotte replied, "since you were lying
across your bed with your skirts up, and your drawers down to cool
your burning bottom. I only came in because Papa had spent so long
over you, and Annabel and I were worried for you."
  "I know, and I am grateful for your concern, and it was a great help
that you could staunch the bleeding for me with cold compresses.
Papa's rod is sometimes hard to bear."
  "All the more reason why one of us should go up this evening," I put
in, "as your bottom is not yet recovered enough to receive it again."
  "I shall come to no harm," Marion replied. "Has not Papa assured us
many times that providence, which made woman the weaker vessel, and
prone to give shelter to all manner of evil, also endowed her with the
wherewithal to receive correction in full measure without risking
injury to health? I will steel myself to do my duty, and attend Papa's
study at seven, as he requires."
  She paused momentarily. "I would make one request of you though, my
dear sisters. Perhaps you would be so good as to see that the supper
things are properly cleared away, and the house secured for the night.
I doubt not that, after my interview with Papa, I would prefer to
remain in my room and seek to learn how best to profit from the lesson
he will have taught me."
  After supper, which we took alone, Papa preferring to have his
brought to him on a tray, where he was preparing his sermon, or other
uplifting text, Marion kissed us both warmly, then gathered her skirts
to ascend the stairs to Papa's room, moving a little stiffly, for her
bruises still troubled her. She was a long while gone.
  We heard just a trace of Papa's loud rumble through the heavy oak
door. He seemed to have considerable matter to impart. Then there came
the faint 'snick' we all dreaded so much. We remained in the kitchen,
so did not catch them all, but it seemed a fearful count. Towards the
end we heard several sharp cries accompanying the snicks, then Marion
screamed and her cry was answered by a bark from Papa. The rhythm of
the correction paused, then resumed. Another few beats and Marion
screamed again. Our hearts stood still, our bellies quaked. Marion was
very brave, but Papa seemed to have penetrated her defences. In the
silence that followed, we waited to hear her leave the dreadful
chamber, but the door stayed shut. After a few minutes we could hear,
dimly but distinctly through the heavy wood, a regular thump,
punctuated by groans from our dear sister. Finally all was quiet.
  Several minutes later we heard the door open and shut, and Marion's
footsteps, dislocated as if she was limping or walking with stiff and
parted legs, as they dragged across the landing to her room. We looked
at each other but did not voice our unspoken thoughts. She had asked
to be allowed to recover herself in private, meditating on her
correction, and we would respect her wishes, and so we turned to clear
the room, and secure the house for the night, as we had promised her.
  Marion did not, however, keep to her room that night. You may
imagine our astonishment when, a bare half hour later, the door
opened, and there was Marion, clinging to the frame. She shuffled
across to us with an awkward gait, then, instead of joining us at the
table where we sat, dropped to her knees at the end of it, her bowed
head on her arms. We jumped up and ran to her side, endeavouring to
raise her and set her in a chair, but she resisted.
  "No," she said, her face lined with pain, "let me be. Papa beat me
most severely, and I cannot manage to sit. Indeed, I might well ruin
my dress, should I do so, for I fear I am bleeding somewhat behind."
  We urged her to let us assist her to her bed, but again, she
refused.
  "Before he beat me, Papa lectured me on the shortcomings of the
household, and what he deemed should be done for the improvement of
our souls, through the mortification of our bodies. He specifically
desired me to acquaint you with the gist of his argument, though the
details will have to await another occasion as, not only did he spend
some time giving me examples of our shortcomings, and what means we
should adopt to correct them, but he made it quite clear that these
were but by way of example, and that he would be expanding and
expounding his thesis continuously."
  My heart sank, and my knees trembled at this dire news. Our father
had brought us up to fear God, and more particularly, God's surrogate
on earth, himself as head of the family. Since our mother's death in
my infancy, we had known no other source of knowledge, guidance and
discipline. There were not even servants in the vicarage since Marion
attained the age of sixteen years, and was put in charge of the house-
keeping, with Charlotte and myself undertaking more and more domestic
duties as we grew older.
  We had of course, daily women from the village, to do the rough work
in laundry and scullery, and even assist with periodical major
cleaning and refurbishment, but we were expressly forbidden to engage
in any but the most necessary conversation with these women. They
were, in any case, too hard driven to be communicative, and returned
to their homes as soon as their allotted tasks were done. We had,
besides, a groom and a gardener, but neither lived in, and both were
directly employed by Papa, and we scarcely saw or spoke to either.
  Our regime was already one of stern and biblical patriarchy, and, if
this was judged too lax and in need of additional discipline, then our
failings must be lamentable, and the necessary correction vigorous and
searching, and Marion's brief digest of what our stern progenitor
proposed for us did not fall short, nor did we expect it to, for we
knew he would never shrink from his duty to curb the evil which the
bible, and the church, teach us is inherent in all women and,
especially, it seemed, in the women of his household.
  When Marion had explained the impossibility of her sitting at table,
Charlotte had run to fetch a cushion from the drawing room, and now
she knelt on it, as on a hassock, in the attitude of prayer, her
elbows on the table, but her head now lifted so as to address us.
  "It would seem," she began, "that our father is conscious of a
certain undesirable element within the household, an evil effusion of
the feminine. As he has so often taught us, the Holy Book, St. Paul,
the ancient Fathers of the Church from St. Augustus time onward, are
all agreed that we women are sinks of iniquity, and vessels of
unrighteousness. It is not enough that we try not to sin, hopeless
though that task may be for our sex, but we must actively mortify our
flesh, and discipline our minds, so that our feminine emanations do
not disturb the meditations and prayers of a man of God, such as he.
Naturally, he intends to help us all he can by increasing the
frequency and severity of the corporal corrections to which we are
subject, in the hope that we might derive some benefit therefrom, as
my flogging tonight was intended to demonstrate, but he feels that
mere fustigation in itself will not be enough to enable us to drive
down those dark forces within us, which are a snare for men, dragging
them down into the pit of hell, for which we women are already
irredeemably destined."
  "But what new disciplines must we be subjected to, then?" I cried.
"We already accept his every ordinance, as befits dutiful daughters,
conscious as we are of the obedience we owe our father, and all other
members of the superior sex. How may we serve him further?"
  "You are right, dearest Annabel," my sister replied, "we do owe him
absolute obedience, and, I believe, we make what poor effort we can to
deliver it. But we are but poor weak women, prone to stray from the
straight path of virtue at every turn, and we need to reinforce our
resolve by submitting ourselves to a harsh discipline to rein in our
naturally wayward ways, and teach us virtue. Papa is drawing up a
comprehensive list of the penances and disciplines we must impose on
ourselves and, when he graciously presents it to us, we will receive
it with gratitude, thanking him for his care on our behalf. At this
time," she continued," he has only vouchsafed to us his first
suggestion for our spiritual health. He requires that we are to give
up the sinful luxury of hot water for washing our bodies."
  "Does he intend that we should go unwashed, then?" asked Charlotte,
in amazement. "I fear there would soon be very tangible feminine
emanations, especially when our monthlies are on us."
  Charlotte was always the least proper of us, and Marion corrected
her sharply.
  "That smacks of frivolity, Charlotte, if not worse," she said, "and
makes me even more convinced that father is right, and that we really
do have need of a sterner regime than we have enjoyed heretofore. In
answer to your question, however, it is his intention that, winter and
summer, we should strip and wash under the pump in the stable yard, at
first dawn, before the groom arrives to take up his duties, since it
would be scandalous for a male to see us in a state of nature." She
sighed. "Now I am truly tired, and my wounded rear is paining me. I
will try and give you a better idea of Papa's thinking on our behalf
tomorrow but now I would be grateful if you would assist me to my
room, for I fear I cannot walk unaided."
  We helped her to her room, and out of her clothes. Her drawers
showed signs of bleeding, several scattered stains, and a red patch on
her right buttock, as if a murderer had laid his gory hand on her. The
blood had started to congeal, and the fabric was stuck to her skin in
places.
  "Kneel and rest your head on your arms, Marion dear," I said, "and
I'll fetch cloths and a basin to soak off your drawers, without
wetting your bed."
  I placed several towels under her and, as gently as I could, soaked
the cotton of her drawers, until I could peel them off without
reopening her wound. I took the drawers carefully down, and over one
knee at a time, telling her to stay in that position until I had
washed the weeping cuts and applied a soothing salve. She was in some
doubt about the latter, since she felt it might not be showing proper
duty to do anything that might mitigate the pain that had been
inflicted for her own good, but I persuaded her it was as much to
promote healthy healing, so that she could submit to proper correction
the sooner, and she seemed satisfied with this.
  With her drawers off, the effect of this whipping could be clearly
seen. Her buttocks were a mass of overlapping bruises, some blackened
and crusted, from her fustigation two days since, others, more
numerous, freshly weeping, the whole extending over the lower half of
her hinds, from their fullest part down to the tops of her thighs, and
blending into a pulpy mass on the under side of the right buttock,
where I had had to use cloths and warm water to detach her most
intimate item of apparel. There were even angry welts on the tops of
her thighs, and I could not avoid speculating whether it had been
these unexpected and painful cuts that had driven the screams we had
heard, or was it, perhaps, the rod impinging on the raw flesh of the
open wound on the right. I did not distress my poor sister further by
enquiring into the matter at that time.
  Kneeling on the bed as she was, head on her pillow, thrusting her
broad but firm buttocks upwards, and spreading them, so that the dark
divide between was opened to the viewer, I could see not only her
feminine parts, but also that small wrinkled dimple adjacent. To my
surprise, it was no longer small nor dimpled. It was swollen to
several times its normal size, protruding distinctly above the
surrounding flesh of the secret valley, and looking very red and
inflamed. It would seem that it was not only the soreness of her
thighs that caused her to walk so awkwardly, as if trying not to let
those rear cheeks rub on the angry bud in between.
  Moreover, this pouting mouth, where her dimple had been, seemed to
be slightly agape, and a thin trickle of some sticky substance
descended from it onto the in side of one thigh. I did not like to
mention this metamorphosis of her erstwhile rose, but let the warm
cloth, which I was using to wash her buttocks, slip into the cleft,
and cleanse her as gently as I could, but not without causing her to
wince, as the soft material caressed the raw swelling.
  When we had made her as comfortable as we might, and she would
allow, for she still felt it disloyal not to suffer the full
consequences of her correction, she kissed us and thanked us for our
kindness, but bade us finish up quickly, and be sure to call her at
first light, so that we could institute the new ablutional routine.
  A raw and chilly dawn found us huddled in our wrappers, padding bare
foot into the stable yard. Shivering already, we cast off our slight
coverings, and looked at each other, not sure of how to proceed. As
usual Marion took the lead, as she had done since we were children.
  "Charlotte, do you pump vigorously, and I will stand under the spout
until I am quite washed all over, then Annabel shall pump for you, and
I for her."
  Charlotte, naked, worked the long lever with a will, glad I think to
be active in that bitter air, the water gushing from the spout in time
with the rise and fall of her arms, and the swaying of her large
breasts. Marion loosed her long dark hair, and stepped under the icy
jet, turning and twisting, running her hands over her body, lifting
her breasts to the chilly kiss, and parting her legs, as she bent, so
that the cleansing torrent reached every intimate spot. When she had
doused and rubbed every part under the icy waterfall, she stepped out,
snatching a towel, and called for me to take over the pumping, and for
Charlotte to submit herself to the arctic caress.
  I, too, was glad to work my shivering body, while Charlotte ducked
into the spouting water, squealing at the coldness of it on her bare
skin, and dancing round like a heathen dervish. Marion admonished her.
  "Hush, Charlotte," she exclaimed, "do not make such a fuss. You are
meant to be submitting your sinful body to this stimulating stream,
which will help cleanse you of both your corporal foulness and the
spiritual filth of sloth, for that is how Papa expressed it to me, and
you should attempt to endure it with the solemnity the purpose calls
for."
  When Charlotte had completed her excruciating ablutions, Marion
dropped her towel, and came to take over the work of pumping from me.
It could be seen that the cold and the icy water had brought up the
marks of her corrections, so that they flamed on her white skin.
Charlotte, too, showed some tracks, for she had attended Papa's study
two days before Marion's previous visit, but I suspected that my own
hinds were comparatively lightly marked. Papa did not like us to be
without an outward and visible reminder of our imperfection, but I had
last bared my buttocks for his disciplinary rod some six days ago, and
the tracks were fading, helped by the fact that it had been one of his
more lenient nights, and I had only received eight strokes, none of
which had broken the skin, except one tip which had dug into my right
flank, but only in one small spot, lost among the collection of small
silver scars from more testing thrashings.
  Gasping and hissing, I stepped under the freezing jet, trying to
emulate Marion's stoic behaviour, but unable to prevent some shocked
cries from escaping. I washed all over, running my hands over my
breasts as their nipples hardened in the icy flood, and bending low so
that the jet found my rear crack, and surged between my thighs,
washing that part of a female body that Papa, and the churchmen he
never wearies of quoting, held to be the most foul and injurious to
men. Then it was over and we all towelled ourselves vigorously to both
dry ourselves and restore some circulation to our frozen limbs. As I
did so, I looked up to see Papa watching us from an upstairs window.
He had said that it would be scandalous for a male to see us at our
ablutions, but, presumably, he was referring to the groom and the
gardener. In his case, obviously, it was his duty to check that his
instructions to his erring daughters, for their better management and
spiritual health, were being properly executed.
  We hurried indoors, to dress and open up the house, setting about
the usual business of lighting fires and preparing Papa's breakfast.
The morning passed without incident, but when Charlotte collected
Papa's luncheon tray, she wore a puzzled expression, and bore a large
white envelope in her hand.
  "Papa says we must all put on clean drawers, and then go with the
groom, in the trap, to the saddler in Sexton Hinds. He will,
apparently, know what Papa's requirements are from the contents of
this envelope."
  Needless to say, we obeyed at once, going upstairs to our rooms, and
changing our soiled drawers for fresh ones in clean white cotton,
which was how Papa had decreed all our underwear should be. Downstairs
again, we mounted into the trap, a close fit for four of us, since
George, the groom, was a middle aged man of broad, solid build, and my
sisters and I all well-formed young women, with adult hips. Somehow we
all fitted in, though I found it somewhat disturbing to be pressed so
close to George's muscular thigh. It was nearly half an hour's drive
to the town, and as our thighs rubbed together, I became aware that
George kept throwing me appraising glances which were most
inappropriate to an employee. Moreover, I could not but be aware of a
certain tumescence that had arisen in his breeches. I tried to
withdraw myself, but there was no room, and my angry glances at the
groom only seemed to arouse both his admiration and erection to
greater heights. I bit my lip and tried to act as if unconcerned,
though such was far from the case. On arrival at Sexton Hinds, George
handed me down with quite unnecessary attention, contriving in the
course of it to press his rampant member against my thigh; I could
feel the pulsating length of it quite clearly through the several
layers of material that, happily, separated us. I was glad when he
released me, but knew it would be useless to complain to Papa about
George's conduct. He would reply, quite rightly, that it was the
female who aroused the male, and, if there was anything animal or
improper in it, then the woman was the guilty party, and should be
punished for so debasing the man. I wondered if I was obliged to go to
Papa's study on our return, and ask him if I merited correction for
affecting George so.
  In the saddlers, we were seen by Mr Foxis himself, who, after
reading, and then carefully rereading, Papa's letter, invited us to
accompany him into a private room at the rear of his establishment.
There each of us in turn was made to sit on a bench, and, utmost
mortification, pull up our skirts to above the knee, exposing the
bottoms of the drawers we had so recently put on. We were all most
grateful to Papa for his thoughtfulness in ensuring we would be spared
the embarrassment of underwear in anything but pristine condition.
  Mr Foxis then proceeded to take a series of careful measurements,
above and below the knee, the length from knee to ankle, the girth of
the ankle, and our foot sizes, our waist and wrist sizes, the
circumference of our necks, the dimensions of our heads, both over the
crown and around at ear level, and, embarrassingly, around our bosoms
and our buttocks. Finally, when all that could be measured appeared to
have been so, I was asked to stand with one foot on the bench, and
draw my skirts up onto my thigh. Blushing, I did so, then almost fell,
as Mr Foxis placed one end of his tape measure on the ankle of the leg
I was standing on, and slid the hand holding the other end up the
length of my thigh, until it pressed against my private purse, only
prevented from actually making contact with my so intimate flesh by
one thickness of thin cotton cloth. My blushes redoubled, as did my
gratitude to Papa for ensuring that that cloth was sweet and dry,
though I was surprised to find, on returning home, that, somehow, the
gusset had become quite moist, not to say sticky with my secretions.
  After my inside leg length had been established to Mr Foxis'
satisfaction, first Charlotte, and then Marion, submitted themselves
to the same intimate examination and measuration, and we ascended the
trap for the journey home. I considered asking one of the others to
change places with me, so as to be spared the too intimate contact
with a male limb, not to speak of the awareness of the straining
member beneath the cord britches, but felt it would be selfish to
avoid this embarrassment by inflicting it on my sisters, so I steeled
myself to endure George's admiring gaze and organ for the thirty
minute drive home.
  That evening, what I had been dreading for days came to pass. I knew
it was inevitable that Papa would send for me soon. He was far too
considerate a parent to neglect my discipline for long, knowing full
well that the good book warns against sparing the rod and spoiling the
child, and that, in this respect at least, women are in more need of
correction than the most wayward child, and the most easily spoilt of
God's creatures if neglected.
  I repaired to my room after supper to put on yet another pair of
clean drawers, a golden rule of Papa's for a daughter expecting
correction, and it was then that I found the surprising fact of the
wetness of the gusset. Glad that I had not neglected my duty to put on
clean apparel, thereby sparing myself further embarrassment, I went
with quickening pulse, and quaking belly, to attend my stern parent. I
was fully conscious that, if he had sent for me, I must be worthy of
some punishment, or at the very least, reminder of my own frailty,
but, used though I was to these meetings, I still feared them, and
wished they were past. I sometimes wondered if I should not confess
this fault to Papa so that he might attempt to correct it, and make me
not wish to escape my just deserts, just as Marion was inclined to
refuse aid and comfort after her fustigations, on the ground that it
detracted from the full benefit of the correction to the sinner.
  I could feel my nipples rubbing on the coarse fabric that Papa
ordained for our bodices, for they had become inexplicably hard and
sensitive. I believe it was fear that caused this habitual condition
just prior to punishment, and despised myself for my cowardice. I
resolved to show exemplary fortitude tonight, to make amends. Despite
my resolution, my hand still trembled as I knocked on that forbidding
panel of oak. On receiving permission, I entered, and stood before my
parent.
  He was a large red-faced and vigorous man, at that time no more than
fifty-one or two, in the full flush of manhood, his florid countenance
and rather heavy jowls only serving to add to his gravitas. He
regarded me from behind his desk, as I stood before it, eyes cast
down, wrists crossed demurely on my belly.
  "Now Miss," he addressed me, "it seems to me that you are, perhaps,
overdue for chastisement. Would you not agree?"
  What could I say but yes? To answer otherwise would not only
contradict my superior, but seem to claim that I was quite free of
guilt or sin these last eight days, a patent absurdity in one of my
sex, and amounting to the sin of pride and arrogance in itself.
  "Indeed, Sir," I said, "it is now eight days since you helped me to
overcome my failings by chastising my person."
  "And you feel that such chastisement is overdue, is that it? I seem
to recall that you only received eight strokes of the cane. Would you,
perhaps, consider that I was unduly lenient?"
  "Sir," I replied, "I would not be so presumptuous. I know you have
only my true interest at heart, in fustigating my weak body, and, if
indeed you were a little lenient, you must have had some good reason
of your own, perhaps to test my behaviour resulting from your apparent
act of grace."
  "Hmm! That's as may be, child, but if I have been too easy with you,
it can be corrected tonight."
  My stomach turned over, and I despised myself for failing my own
resolution so soon.
  "Marion will have informed you," he continued, "about my concern for
the malign feminine influences I feel in this house, and that I intend
to start a new and more strict regime to counter their ill effects.
Would you say that you have any part in these deleterious emanations?"
  I hesitated a moment, trying to give as honest an answer as I could
to this difficult and perplexing question of the baleful effects of
the female person on the male sex.
  "I believe I must be guilty of some part in it, Sir," I replied,
"since I am a female with all the attributes of my sex. My figure is
formed, my menses come and go regularly, and I must accept guilt.
Moreover," I added, honesty forcing me to speak, "though I am not
conscious I am exerting this baleful influence of which you speak, I
was given proof of my guilt, only this afternoon, when we went to
Sexton Hinds, at your request." And I told him, blushing guiltily the
while, how I had been responsible for the groom's arousal.
  "I fear I must have evil in me," I said, "for the poor man's body
parts swelled up so strongly they threatened to burst through his
britches, and must have caused him great discomfort, for which I
should suffer an even greater penalty."
  "It is just as I thought," he exclaimed, looking at me in sorrow. "I
have done you a great disservice, my child, leaving you to go your
fatal female way, without stripes and tears to bring you back to
righteousness, but, never fear, I will rectify it this very night."
  He rose from his desk and went to a cupboard I had every cause to
know and fear. From the corner of my eye, I could see him take
something long and yellow from it. I knew that cane of old. It was one
of his most cruel, and stung a woman's flesh like a very viper.
  "Kindly remove your drawers, and mount up on the chair," he
directed, pointing to the large leather armchair with the wicked rod
he held. "I shall start by giving two dozen cuts, after which we shall
decide if more should be called for. Your comportment under correction
will, of course, have some bearing on my decision."
  Two dozen, and mounted on the chair! This was a stiff sentence, but
no more than my guilty person deserved. Was I not female, and
responsible for leading the groom, and who knows whom else, perhaps
even my own pious father, into those sinful temptations that stir the
opposite sex when the female cannot control her evil influence. But I
hated that chair, as much as I feared that rod. One had to climb up on
it, with one knee on each of the padded arms. Since it was a chair of
normal width, suitable for a gentleman's library, a mere woman had to
spread her thighs to splitting distance to span them and then, still
stretched wide open, Papa insisted that we put our heads right down on
the cushions of the seat, putting our arms around the chair back to
support our position. It was a most testing posture, not least because
it exposed all one's most intimate parts to the gaze of the chastiser
and, we feared, the rod itself might even penetrate to those secret
depths of our persons, now humiliatingly displayed, and wreak havoc in
our soft tissues. Perhaps, in view of the dangerous nature of those
parts of our female bodies to the male at this time, Papa had already
decided that they should be included in the portions of our anatomy to
be whipped into righteousness.
  With trembling hands, I reached under my skirts to draw down, and
discard discreetly, the thin cotton garment in which the offending
parts were cased. Then I advanced to the brooding chair on equally
trembling legs, climbing first onto the seat, and hoisting my skirts
clear up to my waist. Papa was very particular about this, and would
award extra strokes if even one fold of cloth fell below one's
narrowest portion. Then I swung each knee in turn up onto the
corresponding arm.
  I could feel the tendons at my fork stretching with the extreme
parting of my thighs, and knew that my inner secrets were now visible
to my parent. Marion and I are rather above average height for women,
but, despite our long lower limbs, we are only just able to spread our
legs enough to place our knees in the required position, without
straining the tendons in our crotches to the point where we feel the
damage when we come to walk away from the place of chastisement.
Charlotte has great difficulty with the position. While her limbs are
well proportioned and shapely, she lacks the long thigh bones which
enable Marion and me to bridge the gap between the arms, and even
without the additional handicap of a bruised buttock, can only walk
with a clumsy, and painful, wide-legged waddle, immediately after her
correction.
  I bent my head, and lowered it to the leather cushion that formed
the seat of the dreaded chair, a process not without difficulties of
its own, for we had been used to the beneficial restriction of tight
lacing from the advent of our womanhood, Papa contending that a woman
without stays was too easily led into riotous behaviour, whilst firm
bones and strong laces provided a restriction on too free movement of
the body that would be reflected in a similar brake on our otherwise
all too weak and wandering natures. The devices he prescribed, of
whalebone, steel, buckram cloth and unyielding linen lacing, extended
from just below our breasts, to rest on the outward jut of our
buttocks, behind, with a stiffened busk flattening our bellies before,
and reaching down to almost the tops of our thighs, and, bending to
attain the required position for this form of whipping, sent the
bottom edge digging into the pad of flesh above one's pubic bone.
  And now I could feel the air on those parts, and knew that the
position I had assumed, had opened up not only my nether cheeks,
exposing my rear opening to the light, but also had made those fleshy
lips that guarded my female entrance, to part, and leave all that
tender tissue unprotected from either eye or rod. With my head on the
seat, my shoulders were near level with my knees, and I was able to
put my arms round the back of the chair, digging my fingers into the
leather near the bottom of the back. Now I was positioned correctly
for the rod to have the maximum effect. My buttocks were spread and
stretched, so that the flesh was at its most vulnerable, while the
confines of my position meant that I could not move one inch to avoid
the worst ravages of the cane, but must hold myself steadily to absorb
it. The only way I could avoid its dreadful bite would be to let my
knees come off the arms, and that was unthinkable. To do so meant
extra strokes, or even to take the whole punishment again the next
day. On one memorable occasion, Marion had slipped after twenty-three
of a two dozen sentence. She was made to take the remaining stroke,
then report, before breakfast, the next morning, to take the full two
dozen over again. This was the only time I ever remember Marion
weeping openly after a correction, and I had no wish to follow her
example. I would cling to that chair, and keep my knees planted like
the roots of an oak, though hell itself was loosed in my buttocks.
  Papa approached, and checked that my posture was correct. His hands
explored my bent cheeks, probing and squeezing, to assess their
resilience, and fitness for the cuts to come. Ordinarily he would
probe my previous welts with his finger, to assess what degree of
bruising remained, but on this occasion I had been left so long that
only brown and green traces remained on the surface, and the swellings
had all subsided to such an extent that bruising was patently absent.
His hands pressed in further, to explore the fleshy parts around my
'fig', while his thumb pressed against the dimple set behind. I
believe he did this to assess my general state of health, with a view
to deciding how much punishment it would be reasonable to inflict.
  I heard a rattle as he picked up the cane from the desk, where he
had laid it while he inspected my person, and, looking through the
arch of my parted thighs, saw him come into my line of vision. As he
raised the yellow length, I closed my eyes, and waited, bracing my
body for the first shocking blow, praying that the coming agony would
help me suppress those parts of my nature that had such a harmful
effect on the male sex, driving out the evil inherent in all
womankind, or at least rendering it harmless. My teeth grated, as I
clenched them tightly, to trap my screams before they could rise, and
my fingers dug even more deeply into the leather of the chair back. I
was set now. The cane touched my nether cheeks, though only to mark
where he would set the first line of fire, but, to my shame, my flesh
cringed of its own volition. Papa growled that I was clenching, and he
ordered me to open up. Desperately I forced my buttocks to relax,
leaving them open for the rod to do its best work in the soft folds.
My heart beat wildly as I waited.

Chapter 2 THE FLESH SUBDUED

I had already forgotten just how deep that testing cane could bite.
One might have been forgiven for thinking that, with so painful an
experience, the memory would remain forever sharp, but I think the
mind must soften the outlines of the blazing agony it raised in one's
buttocks. Perhaps it was just the female mind that could perform this
insidious treachery, evading thereby the lessons so assiduously
imprinted in her nether parts, and intended by her master to guide her
out of the paths of wrongdoing, into the way of grace. We are unruly
creatures, untrustworthy, even in our own minds, and I think it quite
likely that we are guilty of this evasion of our duty as of so much
else.
  Be that as it may, the first blow shocked me. My breath went out in
a sharp cry, bitten off almost as soon as started, then returned
hissing between my teeth, as I felt the full flow of that throbbing
agony that floods into the welt with the returning blood. Burning with
shame at being so nearly undone at the first cut, I tightened my grip
on the chair back, put my head even more firmly into the cushion,
thrusting my spread buttocks up and back to greet the rod, and
resolved to take the next stroke with better grace.
     But it was impossible. If I had Marion's stoicism and bravery, I
might have done it, though even she had cried out last night, but I
was not made of such stern stuff and, though I clung to my position,
nor let an outright scream pass my lips, I flinched with every cut,
choked on guttural cries, and by the seventh or eighth stroke,
blubbered like a child, rather than the full grown woman that I was.
My parent paused in his measured flogging of my bottom and, to my
shame, admonished me for my lack of composure.
  "Not only are you snivelling like a babe," declared he, "but you are
clenching your buttocks against the rod. Loose them at once, and let
the rod in. How can your soul be saved, if your body will not submit?"
  Mortified, I stifled my sobs, and let my buttocks relax as ordered,
knowing that in this fashion I would receive the utmost benefit from
each stroke. Desperately I clung to the chair through ten, through
twelve, through sixteen, an Andromeda clinging to her rock, but there
was no Perseus with his Gorgon's head to turn the Kraken into stone,
instead the monster was in my buttocks, tearing and rending,
inflicting on me the very pains of hell.
  At eighteen I screamed, and nineteen too, as the cane dropped just a
little, to strike, not on the painful crease between buttock and
thigh, but on the thigh top itself. Papa growled his condemnation, and
I choked into silence, or as near to silence as my sterterous breath
would allow, plus the creaking of the leather as my body writhed on
its perch, seemingly of its own volition, and quite outside my ability
to control it, nor did this meet with Papa's approval either, and he
gave me another cut to my thighs to still me. By now I had received
twenty of the two dozen cuts I had been promised, and I was conscious
that a desperate effort was needed to restore my credit, if further
strokes, on top of my present account, were not to be incurred.
  I dug my nails into the leather, forcing some stillness into my
rebellious flesh, and set my teeth in my lip. How often had my sisters
and I clung to this doleful mount in this fashion, driving our nails
into the thick cowhide! So many times, in truth, that the tough skin
had been all but worn through. It was only by dint of our assiduous
attention, several times a week, working the best saddle soap into the
hide for half an hour at a time, that we had managed to make it
sustain our agonized assaults thus far. We tried not to think what
would happen when, inevitably, one of us, in extremis, burst the
thinning membrane. Now I was in that same extremis, literally clinging
on by my finger nails to my position, and my consciousness, through
the last four terrible cuts. I knew I was bleeding, and I was aware
that I was clenching again, for Papa barked at me to make myself open
again, and I tried desperately to meet his requirement. And then it
was done. The cane fell no more, and I could only lie there sobbing,
conscious of how I had failed to live up to the standards I had set
myself, and that Papa would have wished.
  I was surprised to hear the rattle of the cane, as it was set down
on the desk, for I was convinced that my comportment under correction
had fallen far short of satisfactory, and then I was aware of Papa
behind me, and something hard pressing against the little dimple set
behind my softly fleeced 'fig'. I opened my eyes, that had remained
fast shut throughout, and looked through my spread thighs to see that
Papa's breeches were round his ankles, and he held a great throbbing
member, redder than his flushed visage, directing it between my
cheeks.
  "Oh! Papa," I cried. "Are you sure this is seemly?"
  It cost me dear to question my father about any matter, and
especially, of behaviour, but the situation was so unexpected, and
unprecedented, that I forgot my duty so far as to query his actions.
  My Papa was quick to spot my fault.
  "Daughter," he gasped, for he seemed to be in the grip of some
strong emotion, "it is not for you to decide what is seemly or not.
However, I will overlook your impertinence this once, though I doubt
not I shall rue my softheartedness ere long, and give you an answer,
though, in truth, you better deserve a thrashing. It would indeed be
unseemly, and a cause for scandal, if I were to attempt your
maidenhead, but such was never my intention, for I would not wish to
have you succumb to the sin of bearing a child conceived in incest,
which would damn your soul for ever.
"But know you, I am consumed with that malignant force that you and
your sisters, like all women, let loose into the world, and drives men
to deeds unworthy of their near divine status, for does not the book
say that God has placed men near to Angels, and Eve must go guilty for
ever? It is my intention therefore, to have you draw this poison from
my system, by the suction of your rear passage, a foul receptacle for
a foul discharge, and of the utmost appropriateness, since you must
bear the responsibility for its upsurgence in the first place. You may
well find it causes you pain. Accept that pain into your body, and
give thanks that you are privileged to bear it, while you go some way
to right the wrong you have caused me, and all men."
  My father's words overwhelmed me with their force and his dominance,
and obediently, I submitted myself to his advances, happy to have been
given this opportunity to make amends for my evil effect on him, and
offer up the sacrifice of my pain in expiation.
  I think he must have anointed his manly weapon when he went back to
his desk, for, besides being bright red, it glistened with some oily
substance, which was another proof of his wisdom as, without it, he
would have been hard put to it to have penetrated me. As it was, he
hurt me considerably, as he forced the head past my sphincter ring,
adding to my discomfort by his steely grip on my so recently flogged
buttocks. I could not but cry out in shocked gasps, as he forced me
deeper, until his belly, with its covering of coarse hair, was rubbing
on those same tender welts. I wondered how to suction the venom from
his loins, but he solved the problem for me by pulling his great rod
most of the way out of my bowel, before thrusting it back in up to the
hilt. I soon learnt to contract my belly, and my sphincter, as he
withdrew, relaxing them again, to ease his re-entry, an action similar
I believe to that of milking a cow's teat. I seemed to have made a
satisfactory choice of behaviour for, very shortly, his motion
quickened, his breath became shorter, as the venom tried to resist my
efforts to extract it, and then I felt the foulness leave his body and
spurt in hot jets into my unworthy belly. I felt proud and grateful to
have been of such service to my parent, though, I must admit, a trifle
sore, but what was that compared with the good I had been privileged
to do.
  I was even more certain of my good fortune in being able to render
this assistance to my parent, when I sensed the magnitude of the
relief he enjoyed in being freed from that hateful feminine contagion.
So great it was that he collapsed, quite overcome, onto my back, and
lay there panting with his newfound peace of mind. I gladly bore his
weight until he came to himself enough to rise and adjust his dress.
Well satisfied with my work, I waited, as in duty bound, until
dismissed, before attempting to rise myself.
  I had always found it presented some difficulty, getting down from
the chair, and assuming my drawers, since one's welts made for painful
bending, and even the touch of the thin cotton fabric could be
uncomfortable, where the skin was particularly abraded, but now I
found myself suffering additionally, from the swollen and inflamed
state of my anus. Though dear Papa had shown great consideration in
greasing that portion through which the evil essence had been drawn
out, the procedure had abraded, not to say torn, the ring of my
sphincter, and it was, moreover, swollen to several times its normal
size, and most painful, when the cheeks of my buttocks closed on it.
As I made an awkward exit, my legs shuffling in a curious gait, I
recognised the way Marion had moved the night before, and it dawned on
me that she, too, had been granted the boon of drawing out the
foulness that sapped Papa's strength and spirituality. I was not
jealous. Marion and I have always been close, and shared everything,
so why not this. I did not think Charlotte had yet been so privileged,
but would welcome her as an equal, when her time came. In the
meantime, I resolved, this should be a secret between Marion and me.
It would be unfair to let Charlotte know what rewarding service she
was missing.
  I dragged myself to my room and, presently, Marion and Charlotte
came by to render me the same service that Marion had received the
previous night. I must, however, admit, with feelings of guilt, that I
made no move to deflect the comforting applications of cold
compresses, warm flannels, and emollient creams, that my dear sisters
used to mitigate my sufferings. I am but a weak vessel, compared to
Marion, and, backslider that I am, took no care that I should feel my
chastisement to the last degree, as a truly repentant female should.
  As Marion's hand gently drew a warm and soapy flannel through the
divide of my buttocks, wiping away the ooze from my anus, she and I
exchanged looks that told each other of our understanding, and mutely
made compact to leave Charlotte ignorant of the nature of our hidden
service, until her own time came to partake.
  For the next few days, our daily routine, including the freezing
douche under the stable pump each dawn, continued to take its usual
course including, naturally, a summons for Charlotte to attend on
Papa, two evenings after my own visit, for she had last been corrected
about seven days before, and Papa held that a woman left unwhipped for
more than a week had fallen so far into the devil's clutches, that she
could only be reclaimed by such a flogging as to render her unable to
ease her soul by full and proper labour, and he had too much affection
for his daughters to risk the need to subject them to such a
deprivation.
  When Charlotte returned from her correction, she seemed in some
distress of mind, as well as of body. It did not take long to discover
that she had been disconcerted by Papa's need to use her buttocks to
draw out the troubling matter in his body. I saw then the infinite
wisdom of our progenitor, in choosing to confer the privilege of such
service on Marion and myself first, before offering Charlotte the same
benison. Our middle sister had always been the slowest to understand
the deeply religious and philosophical basis for the disciplines we
lived under, and, by making us privy to his thinking first, he was
able to ensure that we would be able, and from experience, to explain
to our slower sister the benefits we both conferred, and had conferred
on us in return. By the time we had treated her hurts, and soothed her
sores, Charlotte was able to accept the truth of what he taught as
readily as we did ourselves.
  Two days later, we saw the first results of our visit to the
saddler, a visit whose purpose had escaped us up until now. A boy on a
pony delivered a package, which Marion took straight to Papa. When she
returned, a little later, she still bore the package, although now it
had been opened, presumably so that Papa could satisfy himself that
the contents were as he prescribed. Marion invited us to remove our
drawers, and, reaching down at the same time, she drew off and
discarded her own. Reaching into the package, she drew out, and
distributed, three sets of curious restraints. Each consisted of a
pair of leather-lined steel bands, joined by a short length of chain.
Each band was engraved with an M, an A or a C, to identify the wearer
for whom it was intended, and I remembered that Mr Foxis had measured
us most particularly round every conceivable part of our bodies.
  It appeared that Papa had consulted with various learned friends of
his, on the troublesome effects of the female presence in a house of
Godliness, and had been advised, amongst other things, to reduce our
physical mobility as far as was compatible with allowing us the
beneficial influence of hard work on our domestic duties, for, as he
had explained to Marion, 'all the authorities are agreed that it is
lack of restraint that contributes most to the waywardness of women
and, hence, to the debilitation and degradation of men they come in
contact with.' We were, therefore, to clasp the bands round our lower
limbs, just below the knee, where we garter our stockings. The chain
will then ensure we do not betray our womanhood by striding like a
man, or running at any time.
  We each donned our allotted restraint, and tried the effect of
walking. It was possible, with care, to walk fairly freely about the
kitchen, simulating the performance of typical duties, but one's
progress was slow, unless one made very rapid steps.
  Ascending stairs was an entirely different matter and, at first, we
were baffled by the problem, but a little trial and error soon taught
us that, by turning one knee in against the other, that foot could be
swung up onto the first step, and the process repeated, either with
the same foot or its companion, and the stairs might be negotiated
fairly readily, but with either a halting step, or a strange twisting
motion. No matter, we would be able to provide Papa with his meals in
his room, and those other services we were learning to render him, and
reach our own bedrooms too.
  It appeared that Papa intended that we should wear these devices day
and night, hence the removal of our drawers, and that we would no
longer have any need for such garments in the future. Apparently one
of his learned friends, a medical man, was of the opinion that a
woman's genitals should be kept open to the air, for health and
sanitation, though a napkin might be worn when our time of the month
was on us.
  The saddler had done a fine job of measuring and manufacture, and
the bands clasped us firmly, but not so tightly as to interfere with
circulation. The leather was soft, thick, and had rounded edges, so as
not to chafe us, though we found that with continuous use they did dig
into our flesh a little, especially if we forgot the humble gait that
had been impressed on us, and brought ourselves to a jarring stop, by
overstepping the length of the chain. The bands were closed by pushing
one end into a slot in a boss formed on the rear. When the ends were
fully home, an internal spring catch engaged, and the band could not
be removed without cutting through it, an almost impossible task for
us, the band being tempered steel, and we bereft of locksmith's tools.
Not that we could have attempted such a violation of our father's
command to wear them day and night, but it was somehow comforting to
know that, even away from his presence, he had actual physical control
of our persons. I think we all basked in an added feeling of security
as we tested our new fetters. We even welcomed the fact that they were
steel, and would require to be regularly scoured to keep them rust
free and shining, especially after our outdoor ablutions. The sense of
participating in our own restraint added to our proper feelings of
submission.
  That evening, we were all summoned to Papa's study. It was one of
those rare occasions when no one of us was subjected to his rod. He
contented himself with having us draw our skirts up to our thighs, so
that he could inspect our newly acquired curbs, checking them for
tightness and security, and having us move about to demonstrate the
limits on our mobility.
  We settled into our established routine, although a slightly
different pattern was emerging. We found ourselves summoned to receive
Papa's guidance, and relieve his troubled spirit, on a more regular
basis, each of us being required to attend him at weekly intervals,
and in the order of our births. I do not know which was more trying
for our nerves, the uncertainty that had prevailed before, or the near
certainty that one could predict one's correction and service to the
day.
  It was not long before the saddler's efforts bore further fruit.
Soon we found ourselves wearing high collars, constructed on the same
principles as those below our knees, but of such a width that they
fitted from the collar bone to the jaw line, where a roll edge ensured
we were not too severely chafed, but we were obliged to keep our chins
up, and our heads held high. It was providential that our fetters were
delivered some time in advance of the collars, as we had had some time
to master the art of placing our feet on rough ground, while
constrained to tiny steps and, more particularly, we had perfected the
mode of ascending stairs by turning in one knee against the other, and
could manage it competently without the need to look down, which the
collars, of course, made quite impossible.
  On one occasion, Charlotte had the temerity to make some remark to
Papa about the apparent biblical condemnation of the stiff-necked. She
was still inclined to behave in a somewhat froward fashion, and Papa,
I believe, did her no service by occasionally indulging her. On this
occasion, however, he rebuked her for her questioning of his Judgement
in the matter, and ordered her to attend him the next night - although
that evening was already reserved for myself - even though it was but
three days since she had last been corrected, and that severely. She
dropped her eyes in submission, though her chin was still held firmly
aloft.
  Gradually his plan for us, based on his own fine intellect, and the
advice of those wise and learned friends he consulted, unfolded before
us. His intent to keep our femininity in check, while maintaining our
availability for labour and service, also included certain devices to
be worn about our persons and which would constantly impinge upon our
flesh in such a way as to keep us reminded of our corporal weaknesses
and cleanse our minds to think, as much as women can, of spiritual
things. Though not really a High Churchman, he professed to a great
admiration for some of the enclosed orders of nuns, especially the
more strict Spanish convents, and their solution to the problem of the
uncleanness of women, and their contagion of men, by rigid discipline
and regular mortification of the flesh.
  To this end, he had commissioned from the saddler several more
useful items. Firstly we were each given a saddle strap to wear. This
consisted of another reinforced belt, fitting as snugly round our
waists as our other gear about our necks and knees. From it depended a
chain, which was passed through the legs, the lips of our vulvas being
parted to receive it the more deeply, then drawn up between our rear
cheeks, to snap into a fastening at the rear of the belt. When the
fastening was pushed home to the last click of the locking spring, the
chain cut deep into our softest parts.
  The device served its purpose admirably, and in more than one way.
In the first place, of course, we were given that constant reminder of
our flesh, for the chain cut in quite hard enough to cause us soreness
from the start, and, after some hours wearing it, this would have
accumulated to a degree that could not easily be ignored, but must
nevertheless be endured. Then, as we moved, even the short steps
dictated by our fetters, the chain would move in our creases, sawing
even more severely at our soft woman's parts. Again, we had to wear
these cinches day and night, even when performing our natural
functions, and it may be imagined the real mortification we suffered,
the chain between our legs, and especially over our anuses, ensuring
we would soil ourselves most times we made to relieve the pressure in
our bowels or bladders.
  These saddle straps, or cinchers, call them what you will, were
particularly irksome just after we had done our weekly duty in Papa's
study, for our poor anuses were invariably very bulging and inflamed
at that time, and the chain cut in cruelly, making walking a torture
and climbing stairs something that brought tears even to Marion's
brave eyes. The only recompense was that Papa instructed that we
should remove one end of the chain from the belts before attending his
study, using a special key that we collected from him beforehand, and
wash ourselves thoroughly, which meant that once a week at least we
could cleanse ourselves properly, and try to treat any sores that
might have developed from the chafing. Nor did we have to replace the
chains until after our morning ablutions the next day, after which we
had to report to Papa, still naked, while he checked that the chains
had been replaced correctly, and to the full tension provided.
  And so life went on for us three young women, cradled in the
security of our bondage, starting each day invigorated by our duckings
beneath the pump, which effectively guarded us from the misery of
sloth, our souls and bodies kept on that straight and narrow path that
leads to salvation, by close restraint, and mortification of our most
intimate flesh, and basking in the knowledge that we were storing up
treasure in heaven by our good works, our care of God's minister, and
the easing of his troubled spirit.
  Nor was he the only male whose potentially debilitating fluids we
drew out. A week or so later, I attended Papa's study, in the course
of the rota that had been established, and was astounded to find
another man, besides my parent, in the room with him.
  I stammered my apologies for disturbing them, and made to withdraw,
but Papa recalled me.
  "Come here, child," he instructed, "and prepare yourself."
  "But Papa," I stammered, "do you intend that I should bare myself in
front of a stranger, a male person?"
  "Ungrateful wretch, do you forget your duty so far as to question
your own father?" he exclaimed. "You see the unruly nature I have to
overcome, Sir," addressing the tall black figure of his visitor, "and
why only the strictest discipline will suffice."
  "Indeed, Sir," the latter replied, in a deep and penetrating voice,
that somehow caused my stomach to quake, "I will bear that in mind,
when advising you on further measures you might adopt."
  Papa turned his attention back to my quaking self. "This is Dr
Boucher, a physician with a special knowledge of the female and all
her problems and dangers. I have invited him here to advise me on what
measures are best for the proper management of you and your sisters,
and the maintenance of your health, both physical and mental."
  He bestowed on me a quelling look.
  "There can be no possible objection to a medical man attending,
while you bare your person, and he will, indeed, need to do so, in
order to give you that physical examination he holds necessary for him
to arrive at his professional opinion on your present state of health,
and ability to sustain such disciplinary measures as shall, from time
to time, be prescribed. Now place yourself in your proper position on
the chair, and let us have no more nonsense."
  I dropped a curtsey, as much as my knee fetters would allow, by way
of acknowledgement and apology, and hastened to obey. I could feel the
blushes rising to my cheeks, as I gathered up my skirts to my waist,
feeling the air, and the visitor's eyes on my other cheeks, and the
feminine secret between. Mounting the chair seat in fetters presented
some difficulty, and my struggles to ascend the cushion of the seat
was, I fear, rather lacking in dignity and I hoped that I was not
shaming Papa in front of his guest. I waited there, with my skirts on
the small of my back, while Papa released the band from my right knee,
then I lifted my leg to place the knee on the arm that side, then the
left knee onto the other arm with the loose end of my cincher chain
dangling between my legs, spreading me widely in the pose that had by
now become standard for our corrections.
  "Perhaps," said Papa, addressing the good Doctor, "it might be as
well if you were to make a full examination of the subject, before we
proceed further, or at least, of those parts that will be most
directly involved in this evening's discipline and reparation. Though
she is the youngest of my daughters, she is as well formed as her
elder sisters, and I doubt not that you will find her fully equipped
to sustain salutary punishment and draw forth those evil essences that
the unwholesomeness of the female presence is instrumental in causing
to rise and fester in men."
  If any proof were needed of the shameful folly of women, it was
there, for my vanity was such that I actually glowed to hear my father
describe my person in such terms. I tried to think if my reaction was
due simply to pride, or was it satisfaction that I should give him
cause to think well of me. I found that I could easily resolve this
dilemma by applying the golden rule that Papa never tired of
propounding, which was that, if in two minds as to whether a woman's
actions arose from commendable or uncommendable motives, it was always
safer to assume the latter.
  The good Doctor made no demur and, instantly it seemed, I became
aware of hands on my spread buttocks, palping the rounded cheeks, not
as free to move in their bent position, and prodding with strong, bony
fingers, to assess their firmness, and the underlying fatty layers.
Then the fingers stroked down the valley between my nether cheeks,
finding the anus, and probing it gently, testing the bulging bud, and
tracing its circumference. Despite the fact that he was in no way
rough, I flinched, for I was still sore from the effect of the chain
on a tender gland that had been forced by my father's member only four
days before, for Marion had been on her monthlies, and I had taken her
place in the rota for the easing of Papa's distension although,
thankfully, he had not suggested that I should take the strokes due to
her on that occasion.
  Now the Doctor transferred his attention, and his fingers, to those
parts between my thighs, below the soft covering of dark fur at the
base of my belly. They parted the fleshy lips, already a little agape
by virtue of my spread thighs, and touched gently around the opening
that led to my womb. A finger tip carefully tested the membrane of my
maidenhead, eliciting an interested 'mm', and then it travelled up to
that little bud above, that we girls used to ease our own, and each
other's, deepest tensions and distresses, especially after correction,
though we sometimes felt some guilt at thus avoiding the ultimate in
benefit from the rod's application and, indeed, Marion would usually
refuse this benison, except when she was in so much distress that she
was beyond exercising her usual influence on Charlotte and me, and,
despite her reservations, we would ease the screaming of her nerves
and lower her gently into sleep.
  Now the Doctor's finger was performing that same circular dance that
we used on those occasions, and I could feel the blood rushing to it,
and the little member hardening and rising. The Doctor's tongue made
'Tsk Tsk', whether in disapproval of my reaction or interest in the
organ and its behaviour I could not say, and then he withdrew.
  "You are right, Sir," he said, addressing Papa. "She is, indeed, a
very well formed young female."
  I blushed again at the vanity I felt surge in me, and wondered if
duty did not require me to confess this sin to Papa, so that it might
be added to the tally of the strokes I was to receive. I was
distracted from this question of conscience by the Doctor continuing.
  "The buttocks are particularly fine," he declared, "without being in
any way over large, and their underlying musculature is overlaid with
just sufficient fatty tissue that you may anticipate no harm coming to
it from even the most severe and prolonged thrashing. I note that the
anus is somewhat inflamed, but I think it can sustain considerable
further usage before there is any major risk of substantial
haemorrhoid formation. Should this happen, and their degree and nature
interfere with the functions for which it is to be used, then I would
recommend cauterisation, but we are a long way from having to face
that possibility."
  "I am gratified to hear it," replied Papa, "for it would be most
inconvenient to be deprived of her services for any length of time.
How did you find her other parts?"
  "I can report that, as you trusted and hoped, the hymen is still
intacta. It is a sound healthy membrane, and should survive until
required by a suitable mate. The restriction of the thighs should help
to ensure that it is not stretched to rupture in the course of daily
activities, but you must take care when using the arms of the chair
for a whipping stand, as I fear it will be under considerable tension.
I suggest the young woman be warned very clearly that serious
consequences would arise, should she not control herself properly
under correction, and any movement lead to a fall and loss of hymen."
  "She is already aware of that fact," Papa growled, with a touch of
menace in his voice that made me tremble a little on my perch.
  "I'm glad to hear it," the Doctor replied. "Now, as to the clitoris,
it is a generous, but not over large, organ, quite sensitive and
erectile. At the moment it is quite healthy, if such a term is
appropriate to that epicentre of all that is female, and I would not
presume to advise on its disposal, without further discussion of the
moral and ethical considerations involved. Certainly from what I
observe, and what you have told me of the patient's disposition, I
would say there is no urgent need for its elision, though I would not
rule out the need for some modification at a later date. I think we
could safely leave the question until after I have had an opportunity
to examine all three patients."
  Elision! Modification! What could he mean? My belly squirmed, but
further consideration was interrupted by Papa.
  "Very well, Sir," said he, "we will consider the matter fully at a
later date. Meanwhile I propose we proceed to the correction of this
erring female bent in front of us. I take it that your findings would
be quite consistent with the infliction of a dozen strokes of the
cane, the normal sum for these occasions, plus any extras due for
specific transgressions."
  "Oh, yes, this buttock could sustain many times that number without
other than superficial, or at least only subcutaneous, injury. No
damage to bone or tendon, I assure you."
  "Good. I see from my book that she is not in fact due any extra on
this occasion," - my spirits rose, prematurely as it happened - "but
there is the little matter of her objection to your presence on
entering the room. Three extra would appear consistent with justice,
and proper discipline and, as the offence was in some sense, against
yourself, I suggest it would be appropriate if you were to deliver the
strokes yourself."
  "I shall be glad to assist you in the matter," came the reply, "and
it will also give me an opportunity to test the elasticity of the
buttock under the rod, at first hand."
  "Let us proceed then," said Papa. "Annabel, my child, do you lower
your head to the cushion, and thrust out your haunches. You know well
how to hold your buttocks for the cane to get in best, and do its work
well. Let me see you hold them so for the benefit of the good Doctor,
here, and for the better correction of your sinful nature."
  Ever obedient to my parent, I lowered my head to the cushion, a task
made more uncomfortable now with the advent of our stiff high collars,
and clasped the chairback in my arms. Biting my lip in concentration,
I willed my buttocks to relax, feeling the cleft behind spread itself
like an opening flower, revealing my swollen anus, and the gaping
vulva below. I would not fail Papa. This visitor, apparently of such
consequence, should see me offer myself wholly for the coming
correction, though inwardly I quaked, and my stomach filled with
nauseous fear.

Chapter 3 CHURCH, MEDICINE AND THE LAW

I had never been corrected in the presence of anyone other than Papa,
let alone a member of the male sex and, though it caused me some shame
to be seen thus, naked, my bare buttocks spread, revealing all my most
intimate female parts, it also aroused me to steel myself, and offer
my body to the rod without reservation, inviting the utmost of each
stroke, and honouring my parent, by demonstrating that his care of us
had not been without fruit and, though still mere women, with all the
unwholesomeness and dangers of our sex, we had at least learnt the
virtues of obedience and fortitude.
  Although it was an ordeal to which I had many times been subjected,
ever since the appearance of my menses had announced the arrival of my
womanhood, a flogging of a dozen strokes with that penal rod was still
something of dread, and I could look forward to three more besides
from the Doctor, whose athletic build and wiry wrists gave promise of
cuts at least as searching as those that Papa was about to unleash on
my unprotected and freely proffered buttocks. I closed my eyes, and
bit my lip, and set myself, not only to endure, but to endure with
honour.
  As the first cut sank into my flesh, I bit down on my lip so hard
that I could taste blood, but I held my pose and made no more noise
than a grunt buried deep in my throat. I knew too well from
experience, that the first stroke is always worse than one's worst
imaginings, and I was determined not to be caught out, and lose the
battle at the first engagement. Breathing heavily through my nose, I
rode out the appalling pain in my behind, and set myself for the next,
with a little more courage. Though the second was every whit as bad,
it was that little easier to master for having ridden the first. To
have lost there is so discouraging that it saps one's strength. Now I
could give my attention to keeping my flesh open to the correction,
and accepting its formative anguish into my body without flinching or
crying out.
  I could not hope to wholly succeed, of course. Perhaps Marion could
have endured to the end, but she is braver than I and, moreover, of
some seven years more maturity, but twelve cuts of that awful rod
seem, eventually, to penetrate to one's very soul, each one like a
hand twisting that poor weak female thing until it screams inside one.
As it is, I hope I did not disgrace Papa, for I only cried out from
the seventh stroke, which caught me lower than I had been expecting.
The shock was such that I involuntarily clenched behind, and Papa had
to speak sharply to me, to get me to open up my buttocks again. The
rest of my dozen, I fought hard to hold them relaxed and spread, but
it is well known that, once the dam has burst, it is difficult to keep
the waters pent up, and I could not entirely suppress the screams that
rose to my throat, while my tears were quite unconfined.
  When the last of the dreadful dozen had ebbed down for the
unbearable agony of its flood, Papa handed the yellow cane to the
Doctor.
  "And what is your opinion now, Sir?"
  "I think she does you credit, Sir," the man of healing replied,
"quite commendable fortitude for the first half, though there is still
scope to train her to endure further. Certainly her flesh will go a
great deal further, for the bleeding on her flank is merely
superficial."
  "Very well." My father seemed quite pleased with this reply.
"Perhaps you would lay on the extra trio she earned at your expense."
  I had somewhat recovered myself in the respite afforded by this
exchange, and determined to set up my defences once again, but I had
reckoned without the Doctor who, I learnt later, had much experience
of female correction, and the means of breaking their resistance. At
measured intervals, spaced so that I was caught at the crest of the
proceeding wave by the new cut searing into my flesh, he drove three
excruciating strokes into my thighs, just an inch below that soft
crease that divided the rounded resilience of my buttocks from the
white columns of my legs. I shrieked in protest, digging my nails into
the leather of the chairback and, after the last, my head came up,
quite beyond my control, and I howled like a bitch.
  I had expected Papa to order immediate and condign retribution, but
it would seem that he was either too affected by that female
contamination, or so involved with his scientific collaboration with
the good Doctor, for he neglected me shamefully, offering no
correction for my fall from grace, and proceeded at once to the next
usual act, namely the penetration of my anus by his male member, so
that I could redeem myself in some measure by assisting in the drawing
off of the poison in his system.
  On this occasion he was more rough and vigorous than usual, and I
cried out more than once, as his belly slammed into my sore buttocks,
and my tender sphincter was pulled almost to inversion by his rapid
out takes, but I did my duty, and clenched on his shaft, as I had
learnt to do with the muscles of both my belly and my anal sphincter.
It seemed no time at all before I had accomplished my object, and I
felt the debilitating substance, that had been troubling him so
greatly, puffing up his male organ until it was redly inflamed,
ejected into my rectum in great hot spurts. I have to admit that I was
somewhat fatigued after this exercise, and lay resting my cheek on the
back of the chair, awaiting permission to descend. My duties were not
quite over, however. My parent left me on my awkward mount while he
recovered himself somewhat, then heaved himself off my back, where he
had been resting, adjusting his breeches, as he addressed the Doctor.
  "As you may see, Sir, the process of extraction is quite quickly
accomplished, and most efficacious. I am aware of the benefit already.
Now I know you have a household full of women, and you must, yourself,
suffer badly from the same complaint, and the infection can only have
been exacerbated by your close proximity to my daughters, for I fear
that they are a particularly virulent source of these noxious
effusions. For your own relief, and in the interest of scientific
investigation, of course," he added, smoothing down his waistcoat, and
adjusting his buttons, "you should essay the passage yourself, and see
how beneficial it can be."
  Almost at once, I felt another hard rod against my sphincter. I
braced myself against the coming pain, though I knew now not to clench
my buttocks, but to strain outwards, as if answering a call of nature,
as soon as the head was pressed into the anus. It was with great
relief that I found that Papa's discharge, leaking out of the strained
sphincter, combined with the remains of the grease with which he had
customarily anointed his member, led to a less painful entry than my
first impalement of the evening. I dutifully worked on the Doctor's
excess of female contamination and, in a gratifyingly short time, was
able to effect complete relief, but what with the effort, and the pain
I had suffered, and was still suffering, I was almost insensible by
the time the Doctor had finished his rest on my back, and had to be
helped to my feet, after the Doctor had carried out a further
examination, and pronounced me only temporarily exhausted, and having
taken no injury that a healthy young woman, such as myself, could not
throw off in a very short space of time.
  After Papa had refastened the band about my right knee, so as to
restore those restraints on my impetuosity judged so necessary for the
proper management of women, I made shift to drag myself to my room,
but my halting shuffle took me little further than the outside of
Papa's door, where I was found by my loving sisters, and helped to my
bed. While they washed my wounded buttocks, for Papa's strokes had
caused some slight breaking of the skin at one point, and the Doctor's
cuts, though not as numerous, were on skin that had not become
accustomed, by usage, to bearing the rod and, consequently, had come
up instantly into thick purple ropes, so tight and swollen that they
seemed ready to burst at any instant, I told them of this new
departure, and how there had been a stranger present at my correction.
  Charlotte, ever ready to speak without that due consideration and
respect for the actions of men, was quick to exclaim that it was not
proper, but Marion hushed her, while I finished the tale, explaining
his profession, and Papa's reasons for engaging him to examine us.
Charlotte was most abashed to hear how mistaken and undutiful she had
been to have doubted Papa's discretion in the matter and agreed,
albeit a little reluctantly I thought, to Marion's suggestion that she
should purge her conscience by confessing her fault to Papa at the
earliest opportunity, so that it might be entered in his book, and
accounted for at her next correction, which was due in four days, for
Marion's flow had almost stopped, and she would be able to resume her
duties, and correction, at the next session, due in two days time.
  On that occasion, too, as might be expected, given Papa's intention
to have a medical opinion on each of us, and a scientific assessment
of how to proceed with our management, Dr Boucher attended the
correction, and made an informed inspection of Marion's nether parts,
giving it as his opinion, inter alia, that she, too, was a well formed
female, who could bear severe and extended correction, if called for.
He also stated that, 'In the matter of the clitoris, the organ is
overly large, a condition associated with hysteria and other mental
ills of the female, and cognisance must be taken of this fact, when
the patient's treatment is given final consideration.'
  Papa had decreed that she should receive six extra strokes, for
having failed to keep her previous appointment, on account of her
menses, and these he allocated to the Doctor, who laid half on the
already twelve times striped buttock, and three, as in my own case, to
the tops of her thighs, I think it must have been in the interests of
investigating our physiological responses to trauma, that he chose
this rather unusual site for the welts he laid on our persons, for a
few days later, he performed exactly the same service for Charlotte,
who was awarded three extra for her self-confessed lack of respect for
her parent's Judgement in introducing a male into our discipline
sessions, which, as with Marion and myself, he laid on her thighs,
rather than her buttocks.
  Charlotte was also the subject of an intense intimate examination,
and reported that Dr Boucher had diagnosed her form as well suited to
the rod, and extended correction, as we others. Apparently he
considered her clitoris as 'not of unreasonable size for a healthy
woman, though probably rather more sensitive than some'. However, when
Papa gave him some account of her outspokenness, and general tendency
towards precipitous behaviour, he looked grave, and said he would have
to reconsider whether some modification might not be called for after
all. We were all somewhat at a loss to understand what he might mean
by 'modification', since he had used the term, or something similar,
about each of us, and a little concerned for our buds, since we relied
on them heavily, at times of stress, to ease the tensions, and bouts
of overexcitement by which we were sometimes plagued, but knowing our
Papa's constant care for us, and the great esteem that Dr Boucher was,
apparently, held in, we decided that we could safely put our trust in
them. After all, they were men, and we mere women, and they would know
far better than we, where our greatest good lay.
  The Doctor continued to be a regular visitor to our house, and Papa
prevailed on us to offer him our services, for the draining of his
unwholesome and feminine inspired gatherings of fluid, for it appeared
he was constantly surrounded by females in his practice, and his
household. I did make so bold as to enquire of Papa, whether one of
these ladies might not be prevailed upon to do him this service,
though I made it clear we were very sensible of the honour he did us
by choosing our company. Papa answered, rather shortly, that the good
Doctor's undutiful wife had not only refused him this service, but
expressly forbidden any of the other women of the household to perform
it. Papa turned the conversation elsewhere, to the failings he still
perceived in his own household, as I recall, but I think he was trying
to spare us this embarrassment of hearing of one of our sex who was so
lost to decency as to refuse any request of the man to whom she owed
her total and unquestioning obedience.
  Not many days later, we were joined by yet another visitor. Although
we should have known better, after our ridiculous and unfilial doubts,
when Papa brought Dr Boucher into the house at times of correction, we
had learnt no better, when do women do so without the smart of the rod
to drive the lesson home, and protested our dismay.
  Again we found ourselves rebuked by our parent, more in sorrow for
our lack of trust and obedience, than in anger, although he did not
neglect to punish us for it after. It seems the gentleman was none
other than Lord Justice Rodsham, a celebrated disciplinarian, and who
more suitable to observe and advise on such quasi-judicial and
penitential business as our correction and control?
  Our visitors did not only come on nights when one of us was to be
corrected, but might call at any time to make use of our expertise in
relieving the deadly matter gathering in their bodies from the too
baleful influence of the females whose proximity they could not avoid.
Usually we were not chastised on these intermediate visits, and we
were grateful that there was this spreading of the burden for, truth
to tell, we all three found it rather demanding of our women's bodies
to have to relieve three men, one after the other, in the weakened
state we were often in, subsequent to receiving twelve or more strokes
of Papa's searching rod on our constantly bruised buttocks. Now that
we were receiving two visitors regularly, as well as keeping Papa's
tensions in check, one or other of us would unloose her chain, most
nights, and offer her anal services.
  It was obvious that all three men had spent long in too close
contact with contaminating femininity, and that their fate would be
unhappy indeed without the care we were able to lavish on them, and it
occurred to me to wonder how they had managed, before we had stepped
into the breach, or rather, they into ours. I did not know it then, it
only became apparent later, but they had in fact, all three, been in
the habit of visiting a widow of the district, who had rendered them
similar remedial treatment to that we supplied. Unfortunately, a month
or so before the period of which I speak, some ladies of the county
had banded together to denounce the widow for immodest behaviour,
citing her low-cut bodices when attending divine service, that barely
covered her nipples, her lustrous hair, on which she set no more than
a scrap of lace and, horror of horrors, her way of gathering her
skirts, so that not only her foot, in its delicate kid boot, was
visible, but even her ankle and a glimpse of embroidered stocking. So
indignant were the ladies that they were able to prevail on a local
magistrate not only to have her charged with indecent behaviour, but
to find her guilty as charged and sentence her to be whipped through
the town, from Eastgate to Westgate and back to the market place,
where she was to spend two hours in the pillory, before being drawn,
naked, on a hurdle to Buttock Cross on the county boundary, and there
sent on her way, under threat of transportation if she ever appeared
in the town again.
  As it happens, we had witnessed her downfall, though we had no
knowledge of the true circumstances, for that very market day when
Papa, ever careful for our good, had suddenly declared his intention
to take us all to Sexton Hinds, to equip us with new supplies of
cotton drawers, which he had at that time decided should be our
constant wear. On approaching the town, we found the main street
thronged with people, apparently waiting for some event. They made to
part and let us through on the way to the drapers, where we were to
have our new undergarments selected for us, but Papa declared the
press would frighten our horse, and he would hold back until the crowd
dispersed. I was somewhat surprised at this, since the horse was of
the most sanguine disposition, and could be driven through a howling
mob without changing its pace one jot, but Papa seemed to have his
mind quite made up to stay, and I held my peace, as a good daughter
should.
  Presently, the crowd started to bay and cheer behind us, and we
turned to see a cart approaching very steadily down the centre of the
street. The crowd parted to let it pass, then closed behind it,
cheering and waving. As it got nearer, we could see that the cart was
followed by a woman of about five or six and thirty years. She was
naked to the waist, the bodice of her gown torn down until it rested
in tatters on her flaring hips, and she was constrained to follow the
cart unwaveringly, by reason that her wrists were tied fast to the
tailgate. She wore no stays, and her large breasts hung on her chest
heavily. When younger, she must have been quite a beauty; her waist
was still narrow, her bare feet peeping out beneath her kilted gown
were small and delicate, and her features still smooth with good
bones, though her face was distorted by the extreme emotion she was
under, for, as she was forced by the slow and even progress of the
cart to walk equally slowly down the street, the brutal figure of the
town jailor marched behind her, and at every second pace, brought a
vicious black whip down across her back and shoulders.
  Left, right, left, crack, her calvary proceeded, gasping at each
blow, crying out and twisting when a particularly cruel lash curled
round her flank, and bit in under her arm, where the flesh is
tenderest. When she twisted, her large and slightly pendulous breasts
swung violently on her heaving chest like, as Charlotte so crudely
remarked, 'turnips in a sack'. Her nudity was made all the more
bizarre by the fact that she was completely bald. It appeared that,
though she had once been proud of her lustrous dark locks, it was
customary to cut them off, to leave the back bare to the whip, and her
head bobbed behind the cart, shaved clean all over, another smooth
turnip to match those swinging on her chest.
  After the cart and its doleful followers had passed, Papa drew our
trap into the road and made shift to follow as far as the market
place, where we watched as the wretch was cut down from the cart. Her
back was bloody, the whip having marked her well, and she had to be
supported, gasping and sobbing, to the pillory, where her wrists and
neck were gripped by the cutouts in the sturdy timbers, and the top
lowered, leaving her to face the mocking crowd, unable to use her
hands to cover her face or deflect the missiles, for the crowd was
making great sport and threw all manner of filth and rotten eggs, from
which she was quite unable to defend herself. Foremost among her
attackers were a group of finely dressed women, who I judged to be the
wives of burgesses of the town or yeomen farmers of the district. Some
openly jeered at the poor woman, and purchased ancient eggs and rotten
cabbages from the hucksters peddling them to all who would pay, and
others of the heartless band, too nice to do such work themselves,
slipping coins to rough men and coarser women in the throng to
purchase similar fare or worse and throw it on their behalf. I saw one
offer a slattern a shilling if she would throw the fresh steaming dung
our horse let drop into the widow's unprotected face and shaven pate.
Nor was it only her head and face that suffered, for the pillory below
the cross planks was but a post little more than a hand's breath
across and gave no shelter from the furious rain of filth. As much was
aimed at her breasts and belly as her visage, and she was fouled over
every part.
  When the commotion had died down somewhat, Papa completed our
journey to the draper's shop, and ushered us all in. The woman who was
the proprietor had been advised of our coming, and Papa's wants, and
had ready for us several sizes and patterns of drawers or pantaloons.
Papa first had us line up and lift our gowns right up to our waists,
leaving ourselves quite bare below, for we had not put on anything at
his instruction. The shopkeeper then assisted us into each of her
styles, until Papa had made his choice for us, and then each of us
assumed the chosen style in several sizes, until he was quite
satisfied. When it was all over, we each had three pairs of
serviceable drawers, chosen by Papa to be well fitting on our rounded
posteriors, but a loose fit along the length of our thighs, almost to
the knee.
  All this choosing and fitting had taken a great deal of time,
extended by the tea and cakes for which Papa had, rather
uncharacteristically sent, in such good mood he was, and, by the time
we emerged from the draper's shop with our purchases, the crowd was
gathering again, for the widow's two hours were up, and she was to be
drawn to the county boundary and sent packing. Before she was released
from the frame in which she was trapped by her head and hands, the
jailor went behind her and cut the waistband of her gown, drawing it
to the ground. The woman cried and protested, as her lower portions
were uncovered, but the jailor ignored her sobs and entreaties, for
the sentence was that she should be drawn naked. While he stripped her
roughly, I noticed that several of the same well dressed women, who
had ensured she suffered at the hands of the filth throwers, had
stayed to see her further humiliated, and added their own shrill
invective to the howls of the mob.
  The now naked woman was taken down from the pillory, scarce able to
stand, and it could be seen that she was as well formed below as
above. Her legs were long and straight, the thighs well rounded
without being overly plump, and the joint of her thighs supporting a
thick bush of glossy thatch, no doubt matching the luxurious tresses
of which she had been shorn before being flogged. Now a crude hurdle
was brought, and the woman laid on it on her blood streaked back,
causing her to cry out anew. Her arms were parted, to secure her
wrists to the top corners of the wattle frame, and her legs drawn
apart, to lash her ankles to the lower corners. Spread like a
starfish, her parts were open for all to see. Her widely spread thighs
left her nether lips gaping at the beholders, revealing even the
delicate inner folds, with her bud, which was very large and
prominent, clearly showing at the top.
  A horse was harnessed to the hurdle, and commenced to draw it, and
its white and weeping burden, towards the Westgate, and Papa made
haste to follow. Once again, we followed as the horse was driven, at a
smart trot now, along the mired and cobbled street, the naked woman
receiving a fresh coating of ordure from the evidence of horse and
cattle in the street, while the bouncing of her bare and beaten flesh
on the rough woven sticks of the hurdle must have caused her
excruciating torment. The small procession of the horse with its
postillion, ourselves, and several other conveyances, including one
containing several of the vindictive ladies of fashion we had
previously observed, revelling in the widow's sufferings, proceeded
for over a mile, until we reached Buttock Cross, where a weathered
pillar, bearing the faint remains of a carved cross, marked the
boundary in the midst of a barren moor. The woman was cut free of her
painful carriage, but at first could scare stand, so weakened and
exhausted was she. The harpies who had followed her so far, called her
harlot, and bid her be gone, and, when she seemed not to hear them,
called on the postillion who had drawn her to the place of parting, to
send her on her way, which he did, uncoiling the long thin whip he
carried and lashing the poor naked form until she set off down the
road, away from her home and erstwhile friends, stumbling and limping,
her hands clasped round her breasts, her shoulders heaving with her
sobs. The party watched her until she disappeared in a dip in the
road, then turned and went their different ways.
  One cannot but feel some compassion for the lady, for had she not
worked unselfishly to ease the throbbing excesses of poisonous matter
generated in several worthy men of the district, but we did not know
that at the time. In any case, had she not displayed blatant
indecency, and in a place of worship, as well as the public
thoroughfare. Several witnesses at the trial, including many of the
ladies most vociferous in their condemnation of her at her flogging,
had testified how, passing her kneeling in her pew, they had looked
down and seen her rosy nipples peeping through the lace of her bodice,
and had had to interpose themselves so that their husbands or sons
might not be offended by the sight, while others claimed to have seen
the whole of a kid leather boot, replete with a dozen brass buttons,
which her shortened skirts revealed as she descended the steps
outside, after service. Such indelicacy is not to be borne in any
well-
regulated community, and no doubt I am at fault in sympathizing with
the woman at all.
  In any event, she left the district, and it was from that time that
our regime became more 'tight' and our discipline more rigid. The new
drawers, that had been the pretext for our visit to Sexton Hinds, the
day the widow was whipped through the streets, had little use, for our
fetters were ordered only a fortnight later, and the delicate
undergarments were soon languishing in our lingerie boxes, being
incompatible with our now permanent fettered condition. Not long
after, as I have related, we were given the privilege of offering that
service that the too indiscreet widow had heretofore provided for Dr
Boucher and Justice Rodsham.
  In point of fact, the lady's defection worked to our advantage, for
did we not now enjoy the inestimable boon of being guarded, guided and
corrected by representatives of the Church, Medicine and the Law?
Until the advent of that worthy triumvirate, we had depended wholly on
Papa for our spiritual and mental health, and the discipline he deemed
so essential, especially for the latter. His discipline invariably
took the form of a greater or lesser application of the rod, but in
future there were to be additions to the armoury of those who fought
so valiantly to save us from the dragons of sin, lust and unwomanly
forwardness.
  This is not to say that Papa's reliance on the rod had been
ineffectual, indeed, it had done much to keep us all in check. It was
an experience that always gave us pause. When we were advised that we
should report to Papa's study, and submit ourselves to the rod, I am
ashamed to say that our feelings were too often not those of
repentance and contrition that were mete for us at that time, but of
stark fear, for that thick yellow cane cut right into one's soft
buttock flesh, and hurt most excruciatingly. The first bite was as of
a bolt of flame searing the flesh, but that was usually containable at
first, but then a wave of pure agony would flood in, making one's
whole body cringe, one's lungs burst to form the scream that one's
mind fought desperately to suppress.
  It never got easier to bear. One might have thought that, with time,
one's sensitivity might be lessened. True, one's skin did seem to
acquire a certain toughening, and did not split so easily, but this
did us little good, since it only inspired Papa to strike the harder,
to draw blood, or to increase our ration, until our bottoms showed the
ruby, which he took to be the proof of a whipping well done. This
superficial toughening, however, made no difference to our
sensitivity, and we seemed to have just as many nerve ends screaming
their pain after each stroke, as the first time each of us had bared
her buttocks for correction. We came to fear that aching length, and
my belly would contract with terror, each time Papa withdrew it from
its place of keeping, in his study cupboard.
  It was not as if our new regime meant any diminution of the
frequency or severity of our beating, on the contrary, with three
males now available to share the duties, we tended to find ourselves
called on to bare our buttocks, and mount the chair, between our
regular weekly visits for ordinary, and extraordinary, discipline, but
these interim whippings were not severe by our regular standards,
seldom exceeding four or six strokes. The main innovation was the
introduction of a monthly 'court' or accounting. Where Papa had,
formerly, merely referred to his book, in which he kept a memorandum
of various faults he had observed, or we, in duty, had confessed, and
proceeded to execution without ceremony, Justice Rodsham now sat at
Papa's desk, as if on his bench in the High Court, while Papa played
the role of Prosecuting Counsel, and the Doctor gave them the benefit
of his medical and scientific expertise.
  Each of us in turn would step forward and stand, with downcast eyes,
though our high collars kept our chins from drooping, our hands
clasped behind our backs, resting on our cringing buttocks, our
stomachs churning with fear at what might be to come. Our Judge would
make us answer to our name, then ask if there was any fault, not yet
reported, that we wished to confess, warning us sternly that pre-
confession, or rather, the lack of it, would be taken into
consideration when passing sentence.
  "Under the law, any man is presumed to be innocent, until found
guilty, but it would be far too dangerous," he declared, "to extend
the principle to the genus woman, and one should assume all such are
guilty of something. It only remains to determine precisely what,
before I deliver sentence."
  He would then call upon Papa to read out the charges and punishments
recorded in his book, since the last sitting of the court. When Papa
was done with the sorry litany of our failings, and the measures taken
to improve them, we were again given an opportunity to make good any
omissions in the list, before a general discussion took place among
our Guardians as to our characters, our improvement or otherwise since
the last assessment, our sins and omissions, our habits and our
deportment. In fact, each of us was dissected, like a beetle under a
microscope, no facet of our lives being neglected, and each learned
male contributing from his knowledge, observation and professional
expertise to the assessment and what means might be sought to improve
us.
  We would each wait in trepidation while our case was considered,
for, though we knew that anything that was decided would be for our
own good, yet we were sufficiently weak as to fear the inevitable
searing of our flesh, it being certain that we would suffer some
scalding of our buttocks, the only uncertainty being to what degree,
and with what supplements of correction, other than the impact of the
rod in our tender rotundities.
  We could be certain, too, that their exertions on our behalf,
especially as they were obliged to spend several hours cooped up in
our close vicinity, would aggravate the pernicious gatherings in their
loins, and they would have to call upon our services to relieve the
tumescence. Indeed, Papa always took care that we came to the court
with our forks freshly washed, our crotch chains dangling between our
knees. Fortunately, our numbers exactly matched theirs, so none of us
was obliged to offer her rear opening more than once in the evening,
save when the monthly flow of one or other of us caused her to be
declared unfit to approach too closely in that part, it being thought
safer apparently if the male kept at the length of the cane.
  Justice Rodsham and the good Doctor went to great pains to devise
additional disciplines that were exactly appropriate to specific sins
and shortcomings, and we seldom left a 'court' without experiencing,
or being promised, some new torment to curb our sorry natures. For
example, on more than one occasion, it was remarked that Charlotte,
although she never rebelled against or even questioned directly the
stern regime under which we sought to become better women and more
worthy of our Guardians, yet she would give an opinion where none had
been asked, or ask for information relative to our disciplines beyond
what was strictly necessary to understand how they might benefit us.
  The tribunal discussed her case at some length, on several occasions
and, on the last, the Judge, drawing on his immense knowledge of
judicial punishments through the civilised world, recalled how, in the
land of the Scots, such questioning had been curbed by the Scold's
Bridle, or Branks. The idea was taken up with enthusiasm, and the
Doctor made an immediate examination of Charlotte's mouth and teeth,
prodding her tongue with his forefinger, while Justice Rodsham held
her jaws open, as horse dealers do in the market. He took a number of
measurements with his pocket rule and undertook to obtain the
necessary device by the next meeting.
  We did not fully understand what a branks might be, nor its use, but
it hung over us as a considerable menace for the next four weeks or
so, since we had no shadow of doubt that we would not care for it and,
although it was being primarily obtained for the better curbing of
Charlotte's busy tongue, we had no hope that, once obtained, it would
be reserved for her use only, and thought it certain that, whatever
its woes, we would all know them shortly. Nor were we mistaken.

Chapter 4 BRIDLES AND OTHR CURBS

We approached the next session of the 'court' with more than usual
apprehension, and took care to be on our best behaviour, and to appear
in the best state of dress we knew how, compatible with our status as
sinners. Our hair was washed and carefully combed, braided tightly and
wound in neat crowns on our heads. Our accoutrements shone, the steel
of our bands burnished, the leather at collar, knee, and waist buffed
up to a mellow gloss. Even the crotch chains, that chinked between our
knees, as they touched the links of our fetters, had been scoured
clean of the stains from their constant contamination with our
excrement and waters. We were washed above and below, and our gowns
were pressed and fresh.
  We stood along the wall, facing the court, and waited, breathing
lightly in our rib crushing stays, their laces tensioned up to harp
string tautness. Our heads were held high by the tall and rigid
collars under our chins, but we kept our eyes cast submissively
towards the floor, so as not to challenge our Guardians with our
glances.
  I hoped my knees would not tremble so much that the clinking of
their chain would be remarked, and gritted my teeth, trying to still
the flinching of my buttocks, and the sick feeling in my belly. We had
no idea what the branks might be like, but the pitiless cane was ever
present and apparently inevitable, and that thought alone, of its
deadly cuts in my tender flesh, the surging pain, the deep bruises
that ached and throbbed for hours and were sore to sit on for days,
was enough in itself to generate those expressions of the fear that
filled my body.
  Marion was first to be called. She stepped forward to stand in front
of the desk, and awaited the usual catechism. No, she had nothing to
confess that our father had not already been made cogniscent of.
  "Do you submit yourself to your corrections, so as to receive their
benefit to the full, making no attempt to mitigate their effects,
before or after?" enquired the Doctor, watching her closely.
  "I do refuse any care that my sisters offer, if I feel that it is
purely for the purpose of easing the helpful throbbing of my welts,
but I have accepted certain creams that promote healing, even though
they are also emollient and soothing. I feel that it is incumbent on
me to maintain a healthy body, both to be ready for service, and to
avoid being a burden on others." She appeared to hesitate at this
point, and the Doctor pressed her further.
  "Yes, yes, girl. What is it?" he demanded.
  "There is one other thing. After correction, my mind is usually in
such a turmoil that I cannot sleep."
  "And for that you do what?"
  She hung her head as far as her collar would allow.
  "I caress that little bud that lies between my legs, until the
tension bursts, and I can sleep," she said.
  The Doctor cast a look full of meaning at his fellow Judges, but
merely said that he had no more questions at that time. Papa and the
Judge exchanged significant looks, and the Judge addressed Marion in
his turn.
  "Do you release your tensions in this fashion at other times,
besides when you have been wrought by your correction?"
  Again our elder sister hesitated, before replying in the
affirmative.
  "And how often do you perform this action, would you say?"
  Another pause then. "Perhaps once or twice a week, Sir," was her
reply.
  The Judge made a 'tsk. tsk' sound with his tongue, and said
something I did not catch to Papa, who made an annotation in the
leather bound book in which he kept our disciplinary record.
  Marion was dismissed and it was my turn to be called before the
tribunal, they seemingly having taken a prior decision to call
Charlotte last. Again I was asked if I had anything to add to my
tally. I racked my brains, searching desperately to see that nothing
was unconfessed, for the searing bite of that cane loomed nearer in my
mind, and I would have spared myself any cut I could, coward that I
was. But I could think of nothing. Then, just as I was about to
declare a clean slate, it came to me.
  "If you please, Sir," I said, "I too have been guilty of mitigating
my corrections, by frotting my female bud, so that I might sleep the
quicker, once the tension had snapped within."
  The Doctor pounced at once. "Do you, too, resort to this frictioning
at other times, and if so, how often?"
  Much mortified, I kept my eyes fixed firmly on a small ink spot on
the carpet, in front of Papa's desk, while I replied.
  "Sometimes once or twice in a week," I mumbled.
  Again a whispered consultation, and another entry in Papa's
register. The whole proceeding had done nothing to quiet my
apprehension, and I could feel my belly churning, while the points of
my nipples hardened against the lining of my corset top. When I was
dismissed, I stepped back to my place, and became aware that I had
been sweating so much that my gown was sticking to my shoulders, and I
could feel the perspiration trickling down my armpits.
  Now it was the turn of Charlotte. She was put to the same
interrogation, and made similar replies. I had expected nothing less,
since I knew that we all caressed our little buttons to ease
ourselves, and had done since we first became women, and before. Most
girls learnt the trick quite early, and get much comfort from it when
troubled. After her confessions had been duly noted between the covers
of Papa's leather clad volume, they then turned to other topics.
  The business outstanding from the last sitting of the court was the
matter of Charlotte's poor control of her tongue, and the Doctor's
undertaking to secure a branks, or Scold's Bridle, which he now
produced for the approval of the company, that is the males present,
the females naturally having no say in the matter. I looked on,
appalled, as he set it on the desk. The Branks consisted of a cage of
flat strips of iron, formed into an approximation of a woman's head,
though somewhat larger, since it was designed to contain an actual
female head within itself. The cage, for that is what it was, was
split vertically at about the ears, and hinged, so that it could be
put over the wearer's face, and the rear swung closed, and locked, to
trap her within, with no possibility of removing it without the key.
  A chain, by which she could be led about, depended from a ring over
the nosepiece. Such a harsh and unyielding incarceration of the head
would be punishment enough, discouraging idle chatter, but what made
me catch my breath, and my belly to sink into my womb, was the cruel
tab affixed to the inside of the cage, where a tongue might be, but a
tongue pointing inwards, not out. It was a flat piece of steel, fixed
with thumb screws on the outside, so that its exact position and angle
could be adjusted to match the culprit locked within and, worse still,
the underside of this iron tongue carried rows of short blunt spikes.
Clearly it was intended to press down on the wearer's tongue and not
only to enforce her silence, but rip her tongue should she
nevertheless essay speech, merely gall her should she not attempt it.
  I shuddered for my poor misguided sister, with her unruly tongue,
but also for myself, for, try as we might, Papa still found reason to
reprimand us for our remarks from time to time, and I doubted not that
each of us would taste that hideous tongue before long. For now,
though, it was Charlotte who would have to wear that bitter bonnet,
and the Doctor came round the desk to fit his fearsome millinery over
her delicate features. He ordered her to open her mouth, reinforcing
his instruction with a prod of his finger, and lifted the front part
of the open cage into place, the plate, with its horrible spikes,
penetrating her soft mouth and bearing down on her small pink tongue.
She kept her hands resolutely behind her back, as was the requirement,
but her eyes bulged at the horror of what was happening to her and she
made nasal whines of protest as the rear of the cage was swung shut,
forcing the iron tongue and that of female flesh into firm and painful
contact.
  The Judge addressed Charlotte again.
  "In order to assist you learn to curb your tongue, you will wear
that Bridle for the rest of the evening. One of you will come for the
key when you are ready to retire. Meanwhile," he went on, "there is
the matter of the solitary vice to which you are all prone." It came
to me that in confessing our usage, we had omitted to tell them that
it was by no means always solitary. On the contrary, we more usually
expressed our sisterly love for one another by bringing about those
soothing and relaxing spasms one for the other. "Such practices are
not to be encouraged, and stripes will be added to your tally each
time it is indulged. Three if confessed at once, four if it is only
volunteered under questioning, and six full cuts, if caught in
flagrante delicta."
  More stripes! I cringed at the thought, and wondered if, in the
comfort of my room, and with my buttocks racked with pain from a
whipping, my anus aching from rough distension, I might be tempted to
take the relief there and then, and pay later with my hinds. But the
Judge was not yet finished.
  "Moreover," he said, "we deem it so necessary that you enjoy the
full benefit of the lessons imprinted in your buttocks by the rod,
that you must be denied the chance to exercise that soothing
manualization, and on such evenings you will keep your beds with your
hands secured behind your backs, where they will be unable to reach
those seats of Satan between your thighs."
  Oh! What doleful news. It needed no imagination to visualise the
discomfort such bondage would cause us, but we tried to face it
without showing our fear, for was it not all done with only our best
interest at heart?
  Now the Judge was speaking again.
  "Since each of you has only confessed to this sin under direct
questioning, the law demands that you receive four strokes each." He
looked at Papa.
  "Undoubtedly," agreed our parent. "I propose that each of us should
deal with one miscreant, and afterwards, while she is suitably
positioned, reduce that tension that I, for one, feel building so
painfully in my loins. Do you, Judge, take Marion, Doctor you may
assess how Charlotte should be handled in the Bridle, and I will
attend to Annabel."
  And so it was done. Marion took her four strokes with her usual
stoicism, and, after, brought the Judge off with her now expert
sphincter muscle. It was not possible to gauge properly how Charlotte
reacted, since the sounds she made may have been on account of the
interference with her normal breathing of the cage on her head and the
cruel blade pressing on her tongue. However, her whining and choking
gasps did not indicate that she was insensible of the Doctor's cuts to
her buttocks, nor his ravaging of her fundament.
  Finally I found myself mounted on that fearful chair yet again. My
nether cheeks cringed with a terror all their own. I could not control
them. Though I knew I would only have to take four strokes, the long
overture to this performance of the flogger's opera had sapped my
courage, and I was as much undone by the four searing stripes Papa
laid on my bottom as by a full dozen on other occasions. I was much
ashamed and could only sob miserably as he reamed my anus, voiding his
injurious juices in my bowel.
  Our fetters replaced and Charlotte's Bridle removed, we were
dismissed to our beds, each carrying a pair of handcuffs. Poor
Charlotte was in a sorry state. She had worn her hideous headgear for
upwards of two hours and her tongue was sore and blistered. She had no
desire to make conversation, and communicated her needs as much as
possible by means of signs and nods of her head.
  We tended each other's hurts as best we might, though it goes
without saying that we did not offer each other that comfort and
relief that we had customarily shared. When we had donned our night
shifts, we each retired to our own rooms and took to our beds, where
we lay on our stomachs, as we would have done anyway, given the state
of our buttocks and the soreness in our anuses, and slipped the cuffs
over our wrists, behind our backs, snapping shut the spring loaded
jaws. Now we could not give in to the temptation to touch those sweet
sensitive buds between our thighs, but must lie and feel every throb
of our stripes and twinge of our sphincters. It was a restless night
for each of us, and we were almost grateful to see the dawn, and
stumble to Papa's room, to have our hands released, that we might go
to the stable yard and make our ablutions under the pump.
  The Bridle seemed to have had a marked effect on Charlotte, and she
was by no means as free with her tongue afterwards, even when no males
were present and her remarks were addressed solely to us, her sisters,
though it was not in her nature to not backslide occasionally. I
understood her caution better, when I had tasted the device myself. It
was in the nature of things that our Guardians would make each of us
try the experience at least once, so that it might be a curb on our
tongues, should we be tempted to voice an unwomanly opinion or tone.
In my case, I had merely explained how the wind was blowing from the
east, always a difficulty in the vicarage, when he had complained that
I had made his fire to smoke and sting his eyes. For this, I was
sentenced to two hours in the branks, which I fetched immediately, and
he forced the bit into my mouth, latching the rear of the cage behind
my head to secure it. It was a harrowing experience. The steel plate
pressed on my tongue, its stubby spikes not penetrating that organ but
causing me the greatest discomfort. My saliva gathered in my mouth and
I could not dispose of it properly by swallowing, and it dribbled
humiliatingly down my chin. Try as I could, my tongue attempted of its
own accord to shift the sticky fluid to my gullet, and the action soon
made it so sore that I could weep. Moreover, the weight of the cage
rested on my neck or the top of my head, depending how I held myself,
This was no hardship at first but, as time went by, it began to feel
as if I carried a ton of weight, and my muscles screamed out for
relief which did not come. By the time I was released, I had made up
my mind to say no more than 'Yes, Sir' and 'No, Sir' in future, when
speaking to my parent. At the time, I would have been hard put to it
to say even that, so sore and swollen was my poor tongue.
  For purposes of education and forewarning, even Marion had to wear
the fiendish device, though one would scarcely credit that she would
actually deserve it, so circumspect was she in her speech, so all of
us soon knew the miseries of sore mouths and swollen tongues.
  Nor were these the only sore and swollen parts of our anatomies.
With the increasing frequency and regularity of our Guardians' visits,
and their apparently ever increasing sufferings from the female
contagions, that we were called upon to extract from their bodies,
those muscle ringed orifices we gladly lent for the purpose were often
as sore and swollen, for in their haste, they did not always remember
to lubricate those virile hoses through which they discharged the
pernicious gatherings, and they were often quite rough with us, so
desperate were they to get the noxious substances out of their
systems.
  Marion seemed to fare worst. I think she was built a little smaller
there than Charlotte or myself, and then again, she was perhaps, being
older, not quite as elastic in that part. Be that as it may, for
whatever reason, she suffered badly from the frequent abrasion and
bruising, her bud opening into a full blown rose, its petals heavy
with blood, and causing her so much pain she could not sit, but must
needs kneel on her chair. When the gentlemen made to use her, the pain
caused her to scream and twist her body, despite her best resolve to
do her duty. This was a moment when we realised how blessed we were to
have the services of the good Doctor.
  Marion was made to assume the usual position on the chair, as if to
receive a flogging, but it was for inspection, not correction. The
bent and spread position presented her anus admirably, and the Doctor
gave it his close attention, investigating with both finger and
eyeglass. At length he came to a decision.
  "It is as I thought," he declared, "acute haemorrhoids. They will
need to be lanced and sealed. I would suggest that we do not delay
more than we have to, the sooner done the sooner mended, and her
sphincter ready for use again." He turned to his fellow Guardians.
"Luckily I have bistaury and cautery in my bag. While we send for the
instruments, perhaps you would help me secure the patient for the
operation."
  There being no servants in the house of an evening, Charlotte was
despatched to the stables to fetch the Doctor's black bag from his
trap. Meanwhile I was required to find straps and strips of linen, to
secure Marion to the chair. She was kept in her kneeling position, her
thighs widely spread, and her head down on the cushion. Her calves
were bound tight to the chair arms, from behind her knee down to her
ankle, making it impossible for her to twist her thighs or move her
knees one inch on the armrests. Then a long strap was passed over her
back, under the armrests on either side and back again to be buckled
on her back and pulled up to the last possible notch, immobilising her
still further by preventing her rising from her bent position. Finally
her arms were pulled firmly round the back of the chair, and her
wrists lashed tightly together, completing her confinement, and
preventing her moving any part of her body, the wide splayed thighs
ensuring that her spread buttocks were held rigidly presented to the
surgeon's work.
  Charlotte returned after several minutes, since the journey to the
stable involved descending and re-ascending the stairs, an awkward
progress given the fetters we constantly wore. The Doctor selected a
small gleaming scalpel and a metal cylinder, about a half inch in
diameter and two long, one end domed, at the other a spindle, some six
inches in length, itself set in a boxwood handle. The Doctor assembled
a spirit lamp with blowpipe attachment. The cautery was set on a stand
so that it was in the flame of the lamp, and Charlotte was instructed
to blow through the pipe, directing the intense heat onto the iron
head until it glowed red. With a series of deft strokes, the Doctor
lanced each of the swollen petals ringing Marion's rear opening, her
shrieks at each slash of the bistaury merging into one long howl as
the Doctor snatched the cautery from its stand and applied the red hot
iron, with a rolling motion of his wrist, to all parts of the pouting
anus, stanching the blood he had released with its searing hiss. As
Marion slumped in her bonds, the Doctor applied a pad of clean linen
to the wound, and drew up the crotch chain dangling between her legs,
remarking casually, how convenient it would be for holding the
dressing in place.
  Poor Marion was much distressed by this painful surgery, but the
Doctor reassured us that it was a standard medical procedure, and in
accordance with the best practice of modern times. He assured us she
would make a good recovery, fit to take her place on the chair within
a month or so, and her fundament as good as new, though she might have
to endure considerable discomfort on the way to recovery, especially
when attending to her natural functions. As soon as we were permitted,
we removed the wrappings securing Marion so helplessly to receive the
knife and the iron, and took her to her bed, but we could not stay
long, for we had been strictly enjoined to return instantly to the
study, to perform those remedial duties for our Guardians that their
inflamed members demanded.
  As a result of this drastic modification of Marion's fundament,
Charlotte and I had to take on the whole burden of servicing our three
Guardians, who seemed to be suffering even more than before from the
effects of the close proximity with the opposite sex into which their
onerous professional duties forced them, and, consequent on this
aggravated contagion, were obliged to call on us for more and more
frequent relief of their turgid symptoms. With Marion 'hors de
combat', the burden fell more and more heavily on Charlotte and
myself, until, in time, our poor sphincters started to show incipient
signs of the same distressing symptoms that had led to Marion's need
for surgical assistance. Our Guardians viewed the possibility with
some dismay, for how could they withstand the effects of the poisonous
contagion if we were all three put out of action by the searing of our
fundaments and the need to let them heal before they could be safely
used again?
  The problem was solved by training us in a new and different way of
drawing off the poison. We were introduced to the art of oral relief.
We were shown how to take the inflamed and bloated organs into our
mouths, stimulating discharge by running our tongues along the ridges
on the stem, and around the edge of the satin smooth purple cap that
formed its extremity, sucking lustily to engender the flow. We soon
became adept at this technique, and would bring our 'patient' to full
flood in a matter of minutes, then suck heartily until every last drop
of matter had been drawn and swallowed, for the Doctor assured us
that, deleterious as it was to the male sex, it could do us no harm,
since it was feminine engendered, much as a poisonous snake is
impervious to its own venom. With Marion able to play her full part in
this new mode of keeping our benefactors in health, the burden was
reduced, until our sore rears subsided and could take up their duties
again, for the gentlemen seemed to think the action of the sphincter
more efficacious than that of the mouth and tongue, though, for
myself, I could never understand why, for their outpourings seemed
total, and our suction ensured that not a drop was left within.
  So now we had two skills, and just as well, for we were receiving a
visit from one or both of our extra mural Guardians nearly every
night, and with Papa's sensitivity to our malignant miasmas greater by
the day, we were hard put to it. With our new oral ability, Marion was
able to share the load with us from the start, but it was a month
before she had healed enough behind to take her share of that mode,
and even then it hurt her dreadfully and the Doctor advised caution,
and only well spaced use of the cauterised sphincter for a while, so
as not to risk a relapse.
  One way in which we did benefit from these frequent visits was that
we were permitted to relax our crotch chains and wash the tender flesh
between our legs almost every evening, which was a great boon, else we
became both sore and foul in those parts. You may imagine our nerves
were constantly screwed to fever pitch by our frenetic activity, and
we would have dearly liked to have sought relief through the
peripheral stimulation of our pubic nerves, which the good Doctor
gives us to understand is the correct term for that process whereby we
stroke our buds until the tensions of the day flood out of us and
leave us relaxed and ready for sleep, but, this being now a matter for
punishment, we have to make the nice judgement whether that solace is
worth the price we must pay.
  It always seems so, when we lie tossing in our beds, fretting with
the undischarged excitement of the evening, our little fingers itching
for our delicate buds, aching to stroke them, to rub in gentle circles
round their base, until our bellies spasm, and the ejected forces
within us are made manifest as juices wetting our thighs, but when we
are mounted on the chair, our buttocks screaming, as we would wish to
scream but duty restrains us, we cringe at the thought of three more
soul twisting cuts, and regret dearly the fleeting pleasure we took.
In any case, at the moments when we have most need of this relief,
that is after correction, it is denied us by the manacles on our
wrists, which prevent us from reaching between our thighs to perform
the little miracle of healing.
  With the so frequent visitors, the household had fallen into the way
of dining together in the evening, or rather, the gentlemen dined, and
we women waited on them, preparing and serving their food, pouring
their wine, and lighting their cigars after. In exchange for these
small services, we were rewarded by being fed portions from their
plates, and allowed to drink from their glasses. We much enjoyed these
generous expressions of their care for us, and tried to express our
gratitude as well as we might, without appearing to be forward, or
invite the infliction of the dreaded branks to curb our tongues.
  It was their custom, while dining, to hold general conversation, the
topic often turning to the vexed, and vexing, question of women,
natural enough when one considered that, by profession, they were all
responsible in their own way for trying to right the evils of this
world, and where lay the source of most of those evils if not in
women? Naturally, they touched on the females of their own
establishments, whereby we came to learn something of the nature and
regimen of their households.
  The Doctor boasted a wife and three daughters, besides a quantity of
female servants. His wife supported him in chastisement of the
daughters, it goes without saying the maids were regularly whipped for
their discipline as in any well-regulated household, but his spouse
would not submit herself to his command or his rod. It would seem she
must be a very unwomanly female, and we could quite understand how he
might suffer so badly from the contagion that drove him to us for
care, and felt even more obliged to help him in this matter, to atone
in some small measure for those who we were ashamed to share the same
sex with, so hateful did their behaviour seem to us.
  Away from the baleful influence of his wife, the Doctor, by reason
of his profession, came into contact with many females, in need of his
expert help and guidance for their mental and physical health.
Apparently he had many times advised husbands on the degree and mode
of correction best suited to the disposition and physique of their
spouses, and even demonstrated the same, for their better management.
He also stated that he often recommended surgery for a variety of
conditions, including hysteria and masturbation. Though listening at
the table, naturally taking no part in the conversation, we women had
no idea of what this entailed.
  He also told of the County Asylum for Lunatics, to which he was
consultant. A majority of the patients were of the weaker, female,
sex, so liable to disturbances of the brain, nature not having seen
the need to overburden them in that direction, to compensate for the
complication and general proneness to disorder of their other organs.
A great number of them had been consigned to the institution by their
families on the grounds of moral turpitude, having been found in
intercourse with men and, in some cases, actually bearing them
children. When the babies had been born, and put in the care of wet
nurses, the young women were locked up, for their own good of course,
and subjected to a strict regime, designed to drive out the disorders
that troubled them and render their minds whole again, through the
disciplining of their bodies. We recognised many of the elements
readily enough, for they were the same that had had such a beneficial
effect upon ourselves, cold baths, hard work, and physical restriction
of the limbs, too much freedom of which invariably leads to loosening
of manners and softening of moral fibre. They were flogged regularly,
too, but not across the buttocks, as we, but on the back, like the
loose creature we had seen at the cart's tail.
  Justice Rodsham apparently was not so plagued by female company in
his domestic arrangements, having no family of his own, with but a
housekeeper to look after him, and a parcel of maids. He did, however,
come into frequent contact with females of all degree in his court,
and when making prison visits. He gave many instances of the
pernicious natures inherent in all us females, and our inclination to
perfidy and moral turpitude. Amongst the more deplorable activities he
had sought so hard to curb, was that well known weakness of our sex
for letting our tongues run away with us. It seems that many are so
lost to shame and decency, as to berate their husbands, and other men
set in authority over them, such as fathers and brothers, not
hesitating in some cases to pursue them in the streets, to the public
scandal.
  He would usually suggest that the man should lay charges of
committing a breach of the peace, since this charge could be tried in
a higher court, where a wider range of more severe punishments was
available. His Honour was most impressed by the Scold's Bridle, as
demonstrated on ourselves, and much regretted that it had gone out of
use in England, though still retained by the sagacious Scots. His
preferred punishment in the majority of cases was a combination of the
birch and hard labour. He would generally consult the husband, as to
how long he was prepared to do without the services of his
recalcitrant spouse, some asking him to make the lesson short and
sharp, others, usually with younger mistresses to serve their needs,
suggesting that a prolonged incarceration was necessary to obtain
significant improvement, without fear of back sliding.
  The woman would be removed to the county gaol where, on reception,
she would be stripped and shorn by the grim matrons who supervised the
house of female correction. Once scrubbed with lye and hard bristle
brush, she would be secured over a heavy block in the courtyard, her
buttocks well spread by securing her feet some three feet apart, and
drawing her hands down the far side of the block. In this position,
with her belly and breasts pressed firmly against the rough wood, one
of the most powerful among the wardresses was employed to lash her
bare and stretched hinds with a bundle of licky birch twigs, each
about the thickness of a finger, about three feet long and well
pickled in brine. Such lithe limbs stung atrociously, scouring the
skin and drawing blood after only a few applications. The husband was
generally invited to view this warm reception, and the Judge often
felt it his duty to attend. The number of strokes depended on the
seriousness of the offence felt by the complainant, the length of the
incarceration, the shorter the stay the greater the number to
compensate, and the Judge's estimation of the woman's potential for
stirring up trouble. This same number of strokes would be repeated as
a 'leaving present' when the sentence had been served, and the woman
ready for return to her husband or other male Guardian.
  During their stay in the house of correction, the women were worked
hard for many hours each day, such labour being held to be excellent
for their minds as well as their bodies. The most usual form was the
treadmill. This was a long slatted drum, some six feet in diameter.
The women stood on the curved surface, gripping a horizontal pole set
at the top of the slope. Their weight caused the drum to turn, and
they were forced to keep continually walking up the steep slope, for
hour after hour, any falling back bringing a heavy strap about their
sweating backs, their out-thrust buttocks or their straining thighs,
as the wardress on duty thought most fitting and effective. It was
hot, hard, unremitting labour and, since the perspiration ran from
their bodies in rivulets, they performed it bare foot and naked, save
for a scrap of cloth around their waists, no lower than their juts
behind, for their buttocks must be available to the whip, dipping in
front to just reach their mossy mounds, so that decency might be
preserved. The Judge often felt it his duty to check that this aspect
of the punishment was conducted with sufficient vigour, and would
visit the gaol personally to inspect the women as they toiled. He was
able to assure the company that where he visited there was no letting
up, nor sparing of the rod and, as a consequence, very few women were
ever known to re-offend, going quietly about their domestic duties,
curbing their tongues, lowering their eyes in the presence of men, and
generally behaving as is proper for womankind.
  The Doctor and Papa joined with the learned Judge in deploring the
demise of the Bridle in England, but enquired if all the traditional
and effective means of regulating the conduct of unruly females had
been totally lost.
  "By no means," he replied. "I am aware of, and have given my
encouragement to, many a village where the ducking stool is still
standing, and a local magistrate willing to make use of it. 'Tis a
most sovereign remedy for scolds. Likewise, there are still many
whipping posts in use, where the scold, the slattern and the harlot
may scream their repentance under the lash. I believe, also," he went
on, "that there is one manor in the forest, where the Spanish horse is
still employed. I have not seen it ridden, myself, but there is such
an apparatus in the house of correction, where those who kick against
the pricks, may sit and contemplate the error of their ways. 'Tis said
that even the fiercest termagant can be found bathed in tears, and
incapable of saying boo to a goose, after a night on the horse."
  The gentlemen were most excited by these revelations, and resolved
to make trial of them as soon as may be, agreeing amongst themselves
that it would serve a very educational purpose if we were to accompany
them on the expedition, a proposal that we received with mixed
feelings. A ride in the country was always a treat, but we feared to
see how the women might be suffering, and even more so, that our
Guardians might be taken by the idea that we might make personal trial
of these punitary delights. Since, however, it was not our place to
query their designs, nor did they ever take into account the opinions
of mere women, we held our peace.

(This is as much as the rules allow, posting part II immediately)

    

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