Spanking Excerpts from Novels

I have created this fine collection of spanking excerpts. It is, of course, all non-fiction. A collection of sex scene excerpts would also be pretty nice, but I don't have time. If you come across any good excerpts or have comments, please use the form below.

- Akabax

R.F. Delderfield
The Spring Madness of Mr. Sermon

Jame Clavell
Tai-Pan

R.F. Delderfield
The dreaming Suburb

R.F. Delderfield
Theirs was the Kingdom

Nina Bawden
Devil by the Sea

N. H. Kleinbaum
Dead Poets Society

Howard Spring
My son, my son

George Langelaan
The Other Hand

Simon Gray
molly - a play

Rumer Godden
The Battle of the Villa Fiorita

Herbert Kastle
The Movie maker

James Hadley Chase
No Orchids for Miss Blandish

Robert A. Heinlein
I will Fear No Evil

Edith Van Dyne
Aunt Jane's Nieces

Jack London
Martin Eden

Martin Anderson Nexo
Pelle the Conqueror

Cuthbert Bede
The Adventures of Mr. Verdant Green

Toaster's Handbook

Leopold von Sacher-Masoch
Venus in Furs

John Cleland, 1749
Fanny Hill - Memoirs of a Woman of Pleasure

The Book of the Thousand Nights and One Night

Vatsyayana (1st to 6th centuries A.D)
Kama Sutra

The Marquis de Sade (1784)
The 120 Days of Sodom

Giovanni Boccaccio (1353)
The Decameron

Misc. authors
The Bible

"What did you quarrel about?" He asked curiously.

"The usual things, putting all that stuff on her face too soon, staying out, answering back, the usual. The first couple o' times I did clout and send her upstairs but after that I showed more sense. I took a stick to her and made sure I caught her in the bathroom when she had nothing between her and the stick. Twice I did it and the second time she had her breakfast standing! We didn't have no more hanky-panky after that, not until her father come home for good and set about ruining her. Came close to doing it properly that one time, he did, he could never get over her being so pretty an' popular with the boys."

As he faced her, detaining her by the shoulder, he yearned to be done with pleading and persuasion and break the deadlock between them by an embrace, by touching her lips and her hair. Suddenly he felt so much older and wiser than her, old enough and wise enough to lose face or appear to lose it. Because she made no attempt to break free he sensed the same will to compromise and extended his hold by dropping his right hand to her waist and throwing his left arm round her neck. Then, as he was on the point of kissing her, he felt a stab of acute pain in his right hand and leaped back with a yell, whipping his hand to his mouth then lowering it and staring at a puncture that was already welling blood.

"Good God!" he shouted, looking from the wound to the point of the nail scissors that she now held like an offered dagger, "why did you have to do that?" and when she continued to stare at him he threw aside reason and patience, surrendering to rage and frustration generated not only by pain but by all the disappointments that had emanated from this woman over twenty years, hurts that seemed now to find their vent through the bleeding stab in his hand, With a yell of wrath he swept her up and dragged her away from the window, collapsing on the littered bed with Sybil thrust sideways on top of him. In his fury he did not notice that she made almost no resistance, that immediately after seizing the scissors and striking them downward into his hand she had remained rigid, staring not at him but at the trickle of blood on his knuckles. He shouted:

"You act like at child and by God I'll treat you as one!" and holding her firmly with his bleeding hand he used the other to jerk at the waist-band of hr skirt, ripping it almost free of her with a single tug and proceeding straight away to follow her mother's advice.

"Stop it, Sebastian . . . I'm sorry ... sorry!" she cried, becoming a child again in the shrillness of her plea and a wild flailing of the legs, but he was resolved to trade smart for smart and in another second the black silk petticoat had followed the skirt, both garments becoming entangled in her high heels and reducing her cover to a pair of nylon briefs. For a fraction of a second he thought of following the old lady's example literally but with his injured hand he was finding it difficult to maintain his grip and in any case the briefs were totally inadequate protection as her yell testified the moment his hand descended. She gave a series of ineffectual heaves and her initial shout must have carried down the long garden and across to the tennis-courts in Cedarwood Close but, far from deterring him, her shout and struggles gave him the greatest satisfaction and five more times his hand came down before it brushed against a heaven-sent instrument of correction, a substantial rose-wood hairbrush that was among the accessories she had thrown on the bed. He seized this with a fierce joy, renewing his grip and shifting his target and whacking away at her squirming bottom as though it had been a carpet on a line. At the fourth blow the brush snapped in two parts so he hurled the handle to the floor, intending to resume the work by hand and seemingly bent on continuing indefinitely, but suddenly he realised that her struggles and outcry had almost ceased and with a sharp sense of revulsion he loosed his hold so that she slid forward and rolled clear, finishing half-kneeling with her face pressed to the bed, one hand thrown forward, the other spread protectively behind her. Crouched there it was impossible to see her as a woman of almost forty, her hair and clothes disordered, her kneeling pose that of a scared adolescent caught out in some lie or piece of naughtiness. The illusion was so striking that he reached out and touched her hair, saying, "I'm sorry, but honestly . . . honestly . . . Sybil, you asked for it, you really asked for it," and he fumbled in his breast pocket, taking out a handkerchief and wrapping it round his hand which was now bleeding freely, soiling his new suit, the bedspread and the carpet.

"You hurt me, Sebastian," She said, slowly, "you hurt me dreadfully!"

He did not recognise a subtle change in her voice, its sharpness blunted, all its petulance and condescension drained away. There was no element of complaint in it. The word were said almost wonderingly, as through by someone who had been considerably astonished. He did not notice this because he was bowed under the weight of defeat.

Struan was wonder-struck. "How do you know about Jin-qua?"

"I went to Kowtow and pay my respects to his Supreme Lady. She told me he just returned and sent for you."

Struan had been unaware that May-may knew Jin-qua's first wife, but he was so furious that he dismissed this from his mind. "Why the devil did you na tell me where you were going?"

"Because then you would have forbid me," May-may snapped. "I want to see her. Also to have my hair done and to consult the astrologer."

"What?"

"There's a terrifical good hairdresser that Jin-qua's ladies use. Terrifical good for hair. This woman is famous in all Kwangtung. Very expensive. The astrologer said joss was good. Very good. But to watch building of houses."

"You'd risk your life to talk to soothsayers and get your hair treated?" he erupted. "What the hell's the matter with your hair? It's fine as it is!"

"You dinna ken these things, Tai-Pan," she said coldly. "That's where I hear rumors. At hairdresser's." She took his hand and made him touch her hair. "There, you see. It is much softer, no?"

"No! It is na! God's death, if you ever leave without first telling me where you're going, I'll whack you so hard you will na sit for a week."

"Just try, Tai-Pan, by God," she said and glared back at him.

He grabbed her swiftly and carried her, struggling, to the bed and flung up hr rope and petticoats and gave her a smack on her buttocks that stung his hand and tossed her on the bed. He had never struck her before. May-may flew off the bed at him and viciously raked at his face with her long nails. A lantern crashed to the floor as Stuan upended her again and resumed the spanking. She fought out of his grip, and his long nails slashed at his eyes, missing by a fraction of an inch, and scoring his face. He caught her wrists and turned her over and tore off her rope and underclothes and smashed her bare buttocks with the flat of his hand. She fought back fiercely, showing and elbow in his groin and clawing at his face again. Mustering all his strength, he pinned her to the bed, but she slipped her head free and sank her teeth into his forearm. He gasped at the pain and slashed her buttocks again with the flat of his free hand. She bit harder.

"By Good, you'll never bite me again," he said through clenched teeth. Her teeth sank deeper but he deliberately did not pull his arm away. The pain made his eyes water, but he smashed May-may harder and harder and harder, always on the buttocks, until his hand hurt. At last she released her teeth.

"Don't--no more--please--please," she whimpered, and wept into the pillow, defenceless.

Struan caught his breath. "Now say you're sorry for going out without permission."

Her mottled, inflamed buttocks tightened and she flinched against the expected blow, but he had not raised his hand. He knew that the spirit of a thoroughbred must only be tamed, never broken. "I'll give you three seconds."

"I'm sorry--sory. You hurt me, you hurt me," she sobbed.

Struan realized that it was useless to argue or reason with May-may. You canna treat her as a European, he told himself.. Deal with her as through you're Chinese. But how's that! I dinna ken. Treat her as a woman, he ordered himself, deciding on a tactic.

He exploded with pretended rage. "You are a miserable slave, by God! And I've a mind to sell you into the Street of the Blue Lanterns," he shouted, naming the worst of the seamen's streets in Macao, "though who'd want to buy a dirty baggage slave like you I dinna ken. You're nothing but trouble and I've a mind to give you to the lepers. Aye, by God! I paid eight thousand taels of good silver for you, and how dare you make me angry? I was cheated, by God! You're worthless! Dirty slave--how I've put up with you these years I dinna ken!" He shook his fist in her face, and she recoiled. "Am I na good to you? Eh? Generous? Eh? Eh?" he roared, and was pleased to detect fear in her yes. "Well?"

"Yes lord," she whispered, biting her lips.

"You dare to get clothes made behind my back and dare to wear them wi'out my approval, by God? Well, do you?"

"Yes, lord."

"I'll sell you tomorrow. I've a mind to throw you out now, you miserable motherless whore! Kowtow! Go on, kowtow, by God!"

She blanched at his fury and kowtowed quickly.

"Now keep kowtowing until I come back!"

He stormed out of the room, and went back into the garden. He jerked out his knife and selected a thin bamboo from a newly planted grove. He cut it and slashed the air and rushed back into the living room.

"Take your clothes off, you miserable slave! I'm going to flog you till my arm hurts!"

Trembling, she stripped. He seized the dress from her hand and threw it aside.

"Lie down there." He pointed at the ottoman.

She did as he ordered. "Please no to whip me too hard--I'm two months with child." She buried her head in the ottoman.

Struan wanted to take her in his arms, but he knew that this would make him lose face in front of her. And a whipping was the only way to give her back her dignity.

So he slashed her buttocks with the bamboo. Hard enough to hurt, but not to damage. Soon she was crying out and weeping and squirming, but he kept on. Twice he deliberately missed her and slashed the leather violently, so that the noise was terrifying, for the benefit of Lim Din and Ah Sam who he knew would be listening.

After ten blows he paused and told her to stay where she was, and went over to the brandy bottle. He drank deeply, hurled the bottle against the wall, and resumed the whipping. But always with great care.

Finally he stopped and dragged her up by the hair. "Put on your clothes, your miserable slave!" When she was dressed, he bellowed, "Lim din! Ah Sam!"

They were trembling at the door in an instant.

"Wat for nae tea nae food, you miserable slaves! Get food!"

He hurled the bamboo at the side of the door and turned back to May-may.

"Kowtow, your motherless wreck!"

Aghast at the limitlessness of his fury, she hastily complied.

"Clean yoursel' and come back here. Thirty seconds or I'll start all over again!"

Lim Din served the tea and though it was just right, Struan said it was too cold and threw the teapot against the wall. May-may and Lim Din and Ah Sam rushed away and hurried back with more.

The food came with incredible speed also, and Struan allowed himself to be served by May-may. She whimpered with pain and he shouted, "Shut up or I'll whip you forever!"

Then he fell silent, ominously, and ate, letting the quiet torture them.

"Pick the bamboo up!" He screamed as he finished.

May-may fetched the bamboo and handed it to him. He prodded her in the stomach. "Bed!" he ordered harshly, and Lim Din and Ah Sam fled, secure in the knowledge that the Tai-Pan had forgiven his Tai-tai, who had gained limitless face by enduring his righteous fury.

May-may turned around tearfully and went along the corridor towards her quarters, but he snarled, "My bed, by God!"

She ran into his room. He followed and crashed the door shut, and bolted it.

"So, you're with child. Whose child?"

"Yours, lord," she whimpered.

He sat down and extended a booted foot. "Come on, hurry up."

She fell to her knees and pulled off the boots and then stood beside the bed.

"How dare you think I'd want you to meet my friends? When I want to take you out of the house, I'll tell you, by God."

"Yes, lord."

"A woman's place is in the home. Here!"

"Yes, lord."

He allowed his face to soften a trace. "That's better, by God."

"I did na want to go to ball," she said in a tiny whisper. "Only to dress like . . . I never want ball. How for go ball--never never want. Only to please. Sorry. Very sorry."

"Why should I forgive you , eh?" He began to undress. "Eh?"

"No reason--none." Now she was crying piteously, silently. But he knew that now was too soon to relent completely.

"Perhaps, as your with child, I may give you another chance. But it better be a son, not a worthless girl."

"Oh yes--please, please. Please forgive." She kowtowed and knocked her head on the floor.

Her crying was tearing at him, but he continued to undress sullenly. The he blew the lantern out and got into bed.

He left her standing.

After a minute or two he said curtly, "Get into bed. I'm cold."

Later, when he could stand her weeping no more, he put his arms around her tenderly and kissed her. "You're forgiven, lass."

She cried herself to sleep in his arms.

So it came about, the following evening, that Tom and Elaine installed themselves as Mr. and Mrs. T. Smith (Tom was not a very original man) in a blameless little hotel, situated in the main street of a small country town, about a dozen miles west of the site. And it was here, at the unlikely hour of two in the morning, that their bedroom door flew open, and the lights were switched on, revealing to the tousled Elaine and her still sleeping partner, the awful reality of a professional strong woman in the role of outraged wife.

Elaine had no time to do more than blink, rub her eyes, and sit up in bed, before Audrey the Amazon, not even bothering to shut the door behind her, plucked her from bed, and tucked her under her massive arm as though she were a runaway puppy.

Then Elaine knew real fear, and cried aloud, her protests rousing Tom, who sat up very suddenly, looking more like the Kaiser than ever, with his true stature concealed by the bedclothes. Neither was he given any time to exclaim, for his wife, moving with incredible speed for one so huge, whipped round the end of the bed, threw Elaine heavily to the floor, picked up her husband with even less effort than she had lifted Elaine, and tossed him casually into a shallow closet, smartly slamming the door, and blocking it with the end of the bed, which she hooked sideways with her foot.

Although Audrey's disposal of Tom occupied but a few seconds it presented Elaine with her sole chance to escape, and she took it.

Breathlessly she scrambled to her knees, and dived over the bed towards the door. She had stopped shouting, but her cries were now taken up by Tom from the closet, and by other people, presumably guests, or the proprietor and his wife, who had gathered in the passage, and were now adding their protests to the general uproar.

Elaine did not get very far in her scramble towards this group. Audrey the Amazon turned, seized her by the hair, pressed her face into the pillow, jumped on to the disordered bed, and pinned her down with one knee.

Then, releasing Elaine's hair so that she could turn her head just enough to breath, she tore down her new pyjama trousers, and commenced to administer a spanking that could be heard very clearly in the lobby downstairs.

Mrs. Tappertitt had huge, meaty hands, that were able to cover quite an area, and they were hands that were accustomed daily to tying reef knots in iron bars, and tearing encyclopædias in two. The wild cries of Elaine, squirming on the bed, were soon far louder than those of Tom, folded into the closet, and were certainly penetrating enough to drown the scattered protest of the group standing in the passage, and looking in upon the curious scene.

It was perhaps a full minute before Audrey the Amazon paused and, with a final flip of the wrist, again deposited Elaine on the floor, this time on her side nearest the door. "That," said Audrey, wheezing a little, "is what your mother ought to have done more often! Now get dressed, get your things together, and clear out of here, but don't take nothing he gave you, or I'll start on you again the minute I get me breath back!"

She then seemed to dismiss Elaine, and turned to the closet, kicking back the bed, and pulling open the door, so that poor Tom fell out face foremost, and landed abjectly at her feet.

"You get dressed too, Tom," she said, "and I'll give you your rations the minute we get home!"

Adam, watching them kneeling together at the altar of the garrison church in Deal, did not share his son's sentiments. He had always favoured chubby, well-rounded women, and had often told Henrietta that he married her on the strength of her shapely bottom, the first part of her anatomy he had seen as he rode over the skyline of Seddon Moor and surprised her washing herself in a puddle.

"You damned little fool!" he shouted. "That water was deep and you can't swim a stroke! Don't you ever use your head, except as a post for silly hats?"

She was half-lying in the two or three inches of water they had shipped and her expression, as she raised her head and stared up at him, with her mouth open and her three-storey-and-basement hat half toppled, would have struck him as comical had he not realised how near she had come to over-setting them in a deep and turbulent patch of water. She said, rising to her knees, "How dare you swear at me! Nobody swore at me before!" And to his extreme indication, she slapped him across the face with her wet glove.

It was not really a case of consciously following Sir Clive's hint. The exasperation of months went into his reflex action he threw himself forward grabbed her by the waist, threw her half across his knee, and began to spank her so soundly that her struggles rolled them half out of the boat. Then he loosed his hold of her, so that she pitched half in and half out of shallows where, despite the dry spell, there was still mud in hoof sockets left by the cattle.

"Who is Gilpin?"

"Gilpin?" Her eyes became vague for a moment but then cleared. "Oh, no one special. A groom at a place we had in Hampshire, years ago. He was the only man who hit me but he did it with a riding crop and I had bruises on my behind for nearly a month."

SUMMARY: Hillary, a ten year old girl, has a talk with her father ...

He felt a complete revulsion from her. She was trying to distract his attention from the main issue by a pack of blasphemous lies. He said, wrathfully, "Hillary, did you, or did you not, throw a stone at that poor old man?"

She gazed at him wonderingly. "Yes, I did. But I've told you why."

Charles gave way to his righteous anger, His blue eyes grew hot with disgust, his lips trebled. To think that his child should have so little feeling for the weak and helpless! Heroically, he took some of the blame upon himself. His neglect of her must have been fearful to have led to this!

"That's all I wanted to know," he said in a ominous voice and, taking her arm, led her to a convenient tree stump at the side of the field. He sat down and, clasping her wrists, held her prisoner in front of him.

Listen to me," he said. "That man you read about in the newspaper is in prison. So you lied to me. That is quite bad enough. But you did something much, much worse. You threw at stone at a cripple, at a poor sick man who had never done you any harm. And then tried to make me forget about it by telling me a lot of wicked lies." His voice shook with emotion. "Don't you see that this was a dreadful thing to do?"

"But he is the man," she cried, confused, "and he is the Devil." "That's blasphemy. But I'm not going to punish you for that. Not for lying to me. I'm going to punish you for wanting to hurt someone who was poor and old and frightened." He remembered Peregrine's burnt lips and his resolve was strengthened. "I hope this will be a lesson to you will remember all your life."

She saw his intention and her eyes dilated. "No," she screamed, and tried to pull away from him.

He flung her, face downwards, across his lap. Fighting against him, arching her back, she saw, with terrible clarity, Cooper, standing at the gate and looking in their direction. With a anguished cry she clutched at the skirt. Charles did not notice Cooper. He was full of distaste for what he was about to do but he was sternly intent on justice and preventive punishment. Knowing that humiliation would make her remember the occasion more than any pain he would be willing to inflict, he deliberately raised her skirt and ripped off her knickers. He caught her flailing arms and gripped them between his knees. He beat her, with sharp, ringing slaps, until her plump behind was rosy. The sight of the red weals on her bare flesh roused in him a painful sympathy. Afraid that he might be diverted from his purpose by soft-heartedness, he continued to spank her with a heavier hand than he had intended. She hung, limp and screaming, across his knees. The birds, alarmed by her cries, rose from the trees and wheeled and called above them. When he had finished, he released her hands and pushed her of his lap. He rubbed his stinging hands against his trousers. She grovelled on the ground, choking, the saliva running out of her mouth. He was bitterly ashamed. Violence accomplished nothing and was always wrong. There was no excuse.

"Get up," He said. "Put your knickers on."

She obeyed him, fumbling with her underclothing. He averted his eyes. When she was tidy, he said wretchedly. "I've never done that before, have I?" I hope you will never forget it. I hope I never have to do it again."

"I've hate you," she said, between sobs, burning with shame and injustice. "I hope God will strike you dead."

"Get in the car," he said, and pointed to the gate. She turned and ran, yellow skirt blowing like a flower under the blue arch of the sky. She ran straight into Cooper, her head striking him hard in the softness of his ageing belly. He grunted and held her away from him, an amused grin on his face.

"Been a naughty girl, have you?" he said cheerily. "A bit big to have your bottom smacked, aren't you?"

He was a horrible, hateful, vulgar man. Hilary longed to die: life, in face of this disaster, was insupportable. She covered her face with her hands and wept.

The dean did not hestitate to react to the stunt. Before he knew it, Charlie found himself standing in the middle of Nolan's office an the dean himself paced friously. "Wipe that smirf off your face," Nolan hissed. "Who else was involved in this?"

"No one, sir," Charlie said. "It was just me. I do the proofing for the paper, so I inserted my article instead of Rob Crane's."

"Mr. Dalton," Nolan said, "if you think you're the first one to try to get thrown out of this school, think again. Others have had similar notions and the have failed just as surely as you will fail. Assume the position."

Charlie obeyed, and Nolan pulled out a huge, old paddle. The paddle had holes drilled in it to speed its progress. Nolan took off his jacket and moved behind Charlie.

"Count aloud, Mr. Dalton," Nolan instruckted as he slammed the paddle into Charlies's buttocks.

"One." Nolan swung the paddle again, this time putting more power into it. Charlie winched. "Two."

Nolan dilivered, and Charlie counted. By the fourth lick, Charlies voice was barely audible and his face was contorted with pain.

Mrs. Nolan, the dean's wife and secretary, sat in the outer office trying not to listen as the punishment proceeded. In hte adjacent honor room, three students, including Cameron, worked at easels, sketching the moose heads on the wall. They heard the paddle hitting Charlie and were filled with fear and awe. Cameron couldn't draw the moose.

By the seventh lick, tears flowed freely down Charlie's cheeks. "Count!" Nylan shouted.

By the ninth and thenth licks, Charlie choked on the words. Nolan stopped after the tenth lick and walked around to face the boy. "Do you still insist that this was your idea and your idea alone?" He asked.

Charlie choked back the pain. "Yes . . . sir."

"What is this 'Dead Poets Society?' I want names," Nolan shouted.

Feeling faint, charlie hoarsely replied, "It's only me, Mr. Nolan. I swear. I made it up."

"If I find that there are others, Mr. Dalton, they will be expelled, and you will remain enrolled. Do you understand? Now stand up."

Charlie obeyed. His face was blood-red as he fought back tears of pain and humilitiation.

"Welton can forgive, Mr. Dalton, provided you have the courage to admit your mistakes. You will make your apology to the entire school."

SUMMARY: The narrators son Oliver is caught tracing a illustration from Punch, in order to win a prize at school for the best freehand drawing. The narrators religious wife want him to punish the boy.

I got up. "Quarrelling will get us nowhere," I said. "What do you think should be done about Oliver?"

"I think he should be thrashed."

"I don't."

"You haven't got the strength to do your duty."

"Put it that way if you like. If you have no other suggestion, I may as well go."

I went. In my room I drew the curtains but did not light my lamp. I sat in the dark, in no mood to read or to write. I heard Nellie's step pass the door, and assumed that she was going to bed. A moment later Oliver's voice could be heard, murmuring uncertainly, as though he had been awakened from sleep. Then the voice sharpened to a cry of protest: "No! Don't!"

I leapt from the chair, and as I hurried across the landing that divided my room from his, he gave a howl of pain. The door was open. Nellie had placed a lighted candle on the table. She had pulled back the bedclothes and stripped off his pyjama jacket. With her left hand she was holding Oliver faced-downward on the bed. With her right hand she was lashing his back with a cane. "Cheat! Liar! Thief!" she cried. Her face was inhuman with cold fury. The child's cries was terrible They tore my heart, and every blow seemed to bite into my own shrinking flesh.

I was across the room in a stride, and seized her wrist as her hand was aloft for another blow. "Stop!" I shouted. "Are you mad?"

She turned to wards med, panting. "I am doing your work," she gasped.

Oliver had stopped shrieking when the blows ceased. He lay with his head buried in his arms, his body shaking with sobs. In the dim light I could see the weal's livid on his skin.

SUMMARY: The narrator's right hand has been possessed. In this part, he is walking down Champs Elys�es with his wife and Ludo, his brother-in-law.

Suzon was walking between us, and so that she could hold my arm, she had given me her fashion magazine which I had rolled up in my right hand. Walking ahead of us were two girls, the type of girls which, for some mysterious reason, tourists consider as so typically Parisian and who, of course, are not -- you know, the sort of girls that are just a little too well dressed, with heels two centimeters too high, skirts two centimeters too short, a little too tight around hips that swing just a little too much. Ludo grinned at me and winked, and I grinned back and Suzon shrugged her shoulders as we swung out to pass them. As we did so, I raised the rolled up magazine in my hand and brought it down with a resounding smack on the girl nearest me! I was far more dumbfounded and shocked than the girl who turned, white with rage, and was evidently going to slap my face when her companion dragged her away, saying: "Can't you see he is drunk!" Suzon did not speak to me for two whole days.

SPOILER: In the end of the story, it turns out that the hand has been under control by Ludo!

Molly (wearily) Omigod! (Lights her cigarette)

Teddy watches her. There is a pause

Teddy Hey you, come here! (Pause) Come on, come here, I said.

Concealing her irritation, clearly knowing what is going to to happen, Molly goes over to Teddy

Molly Sir?
Teddy Now my girl, how many's that since lunch?
Molly Only one sir.
Teddy Come on, Moll, the truth now. All the time you were gadding about out there.
Molly Well, three. (Pause) Four. (Pause. She holds up five fingers) Ten. Twenty.
Teddy (not hearing) Five, eh? Well, add on another four and one on top of that, makes-

He motions to Molly. She lays herself over his knees. He spanks her while counting, laughing

one-two-three-four-five-six-seven-eight-nine. Now get us another drink, girl.

Molly takes his glass with a curtsy

Molly My lord. (She pours himself another drink)

Molly puts her bag in the trolley, takes out a cigarette and lights it

Teddy That's how we knew he was a Catholic. (He laughts) Wish we'd had you around, boy, to beat him to death with a stick. (He sits on the sofa)
Hey, girl, come over here. Come on.

Molly makes a unbelieving gesture

Come on, girl. Here, I say.

Molly goes to Teddy

How many's it been, eh? How many seen her smoke, boy? Two hundred three hundred since I was laid up - say five. Let you off with five, Molly, eh?

Molly lies over Teddy's knees. He smacks her five times

One-two-three-four-five. (He helps her off his knees) There, letting you off lightly, eh, girl?

Oliver's face is set

Molly (seeing Oliver's face) Evie, is there some tea for Oliver.
Eve Come with me, Oliver.

Eve exits to the corridor

Lunch began with tagliatella alla Bolognese, fine strings of pasta in tomato sauce, with minced meat. Giulietta, as usual, handed it as they sat round the table. Fanny took some; Hugh, sitting next to her, helped himself, keeping his eyes down. Caddie shook her head. Rob took his and guilietta came to Pia. Pia, her hair brushed, her hands and face washed, her napkin unfolded on her knee, sat quietly though she was breathing in strange little snorts down her nose. Caddie felt cold with apprehension. Giulietta held the dish. Pia shook her head. Giulietta was taking it away when, "Un momento, Giulietta," said Rob. He reched across Pia and helped her himself. "Give some to Signorina Caddie."

"Servo la signorina?" asked Guilietta startled.

"Si."

"Permesso," said Giulietta to Caddie and put some on her plate. Rob sprinkled cheese for them both and, "Eat it," he said.

Nobody moved. Pia and Caddie looked straight in front of them.

"I said eat it," said Rob. He took a spoon, chopped some of the tagliatll and held it to Pia's mouth. Pia kept her lips shut and breathed through her nose. "Eat it." With his other hand Rob gave Pia a sharp slap on the back of her head. It sent her forward against the spoon with such a jerk that she opened her mouth. The spoon went in. As Rob took it away, he too was breathing hard. "Now swallow."

Pia looked at him with her small black eyes and spat out the tagliatelle. As with everything she did, the spit was direct and it landed on the tablecloth in the stain of tomato and gravy. Caddie gave a little hiss of terror, and Rob lost his temper.

He jerked Pia out of her chair and, in a second, she was face downwards across his knee. He turned up her skirt, showing her little rump outlined in snowy-white briefs edged with lace. "You asked for it; now you shall have it," said Rob and, before all their eyes, he gave her a good spanking.

Hugh and Caddie sat too shocked to speak; Fanny was white to the lips, only Giulietta watched with amusement in her eyes as if this were entirely natural. At last the sound of slaps ceased and Rob lifted Pia off that powerful knee.

'Sleep tight,' Lars said. 'Don't let the bedbugs bite.'

Terry was gone. Mona murmured, 'bedbugs. It's been a long time since I even heard the word. You ever see bedbugs?'

Lars put his hand behind her head and drew her toward him. They touched lips. He thought of Terry and how ridiculous it was to prefer anyone to this gorgeous acre of femininity. 'No.' He said. 'You got any to show me?'

She laughed. 'You break me up.' She pressed her lips to his. 'You tough little bastard.'

It didn't bother him. It was a kick for her and a kick for him. The mismatch of the century. He took her i his arms, bending over her as she stuck her legs straight out and slouched lower. He kissed her hard, slid his lips down her neck to her breasts. She wiggled her legs and said 'Ummm, baby.' He found a zipper near her armpit and worked it. The dress loosened, and he drew it down from her shoulders. He found the hook in back. 'Introducing,' he murmured, and took off her brassiere. Big, all right. A feast, and not only for the eyes. He feasted.

After a while she led him to her bedroom and stripped, turning and posing for his pleasure. She stopped him from undressing. She wanted to do it herself. She undressed him as if he were a baby, cooing over him and doing everything but carry him to the bed. She even tried that, but couldn't make it. He laughed and it was still a kick and he was ready. But she wasn't. She kept stalling, kept playing. An hour passed, a full hour, and he grew tired and testy. 'Be a big girl,' he said, and pushed her down and pulled at her legs. She rolled over onto her stomach, but her backward glance was melting. He realized this was what she wanted. She wouldn't ask for it because asking adulterated true toughness, but she wanted a hard man, a mean man, the man who had kicked Sommy in the nuts. He smacked her big rear end. She said, 'No, I won't!' He smacked it again, the sound ringing out in the silent house. He thought of Terry. Was she next door, listening to them, jealous and sexually excited?

He smacked Mona's rear five times, his hand stinging from the force of the blows, the sound loud enough to waken anyone in the house. Mona whimpered and rolled onto her side. 'You hurt me.' Her eyes blinked back tears. He grabbed her shoulders and shoved her flat on her back. She tried to draw up her legs. He slapped her face. She said, 'Not that.' He slapped her again and jammed his knee between her thighs. 'Not that,' he mocked. 'You want me to pat the famous fanny all night. Not that. You want Lars to perform by the script.'

She wept, pressing her legs together. 'I've changed my mind. Go away. You're not-'

He grabbed a breast. 'If you don't open-'

She cried out. Her legs opened. He stroked her face and kissed her. He told her how beautiful, how desirable she was, and she wept softly and called him a rat and rapist and hugged him and bit his shoulder.

It went very well. As soon as it ended her eyes closed and she began to doze, mumbling that she hadn't slept well all week and please phone her soon.

Anna came in.

"How much longer are you going to tag along with the Grisson mob?" she demanded. "How much longer are you going to lick that old bitch's boots."

"And don't start that again," Eddie yelled, struggling into his coat. "I'm getting out of here. I had all I want from you for one day."

Anna sneered.

"Small-time. What I ever saw in you! Run along, gigolo. Start your boot licking."

"Don't say you didn't ask for this," Eddie bellowed. "I've had enough of your big mouth. I'm going to teach you who's boss around here."

He pounced on her. Scooping her up, he slammed her face down across the bed. Holding her securely under the angle of his arm, he whisked up her clothes and began to spank her long and hard.

Kicking and struggling, Anna screamed like a train whistle. Eddie continued to slap her until his hand was burning and sore and the neighbours either side of the apartment began hammering on the walls.

Then leaving her wriggling and screaming on the bed, Eddie left the apartment, slamming the door behind him.

Joan bawled and shook her head. He spoke loudly: 'Rockford!'

'Yes, sir?'

'We'll be out in a moment or two. Keep the reactor warm.'

He stepped to the wall and squeezed down the intercom to zero, then said gently, 'Get dressed, dear.'

'I won't! If we leave now, you'll have to stuff me into the car bare naked.'

He sighed and picked her up; she stopped crying and looked suddenly happy.

The expression did not last. He turned her in his arms as he sat down on a straight chair, got a firm grip on her, and walloped her right buttock. She yelped. And struggled.

He got her more firmly, placing his right leg over both of hers, and applied his hand smartly to her left cheek. Then he alternated sides, stopping with ten. He set her on her feet and said, 'Get dressed, dear. Quickly.'

She stopped and rubbed the punished area. 'Yes, Jake.'

Neither said another word until he had handed her into the car, climbed in after her, and they had been locked in. Then she said timidly, 'Jake? Will you hold me?'

'Certainly, darling.'

'May I take my robe off, please? Will you take it off me?'

With the robe out of the way she sighed and snuggled in. After a bit she whispered, 'Jake darling? Why did you spank me?'

It was his turn to sight. 'You were being difficult ... and it is the only thing I know of which will do a woman any good when a man can't do for her what she needs. And right then - I couldn't.'

'I see. I think I do.'

She remained quiet a while, enjoying his arms around her and breathing against his chest. Then she said, 'Dear? Did you ever spank Eunice?'

'Once.'

'For the same reason?'

'Not quite. Well, somewhat. She teased me into it.' (I tickled him, dear. And got the surprise of my life.)

'Then I'm glad you spanked me, too. But I'll try not to tease you -- though I'll never be the angel she was.' (Fallen angel, Boss. And enjoyed it all, clear down to the Pit.)

'Jake?'

'Yes, Eunice?'

'I didn't really mind being spanked by you. Even when I was crying. But -- Well, I'm paddled now -- Built to take an spanking. And when you are spanking me, you aren't ignoring me -- and any attention is better than none. And besides --' She hesitated.

'Besides what, Eunice?'

'Well, I don't know -- but I think it happened.'

'What happened?'

'Female orgasm. Well, maybe. I don't know what one is supposed to feel like. But while I was crying -- and hurting; you have a heavy hand, sir -- suddenly I felt very warm inside and something seemed to grow and explode -- that's the best I can describe it. And I was ecstatically happy an didn't mind the last few wallops, hardly noticed them. Was that a female orgasm?'

The boy and a little stout man were playing chess at a table, and both were in a deep study of the game. The boy's back was toward him, but the man observed the newcomer and gave a nod. Then he dropped his eyes again to the table.

Kenneth was frowning sullenly.

"You're bound to lose the pawn, whichever way you play," said the little man quietly.

The boy gave an angry cry, and thrust the table from him, sending the chess-men clattering into a corner. Instantly the little man leaned over and grasped the boy by the collar, and with a sudden jerk landed him across his own fat knees. Then, while the prisoner screamed and struggled, the man brought his hand down with a slap that echoed throughout the room, and continued the operation until Master Kenneth had received a sound spanking.

Then he let the boy slip to the floor, from whence he arose slowly and backed toward the door, scowling and muttering angrily.

"How will a spanking do?" Martin asked.

Brissenden considered judicially, and nodded his head.

The next instant Martin was seated on the edge of the bed with the cub face downward across his knees.

"Now don�t bite," Martin warned, "or else I�ll have to punch your face. It would be a pity, for it is such a pretty face."

His uplifted hand descended, and thereafter rose and fell in a swift and steady rhythm. The cub struggled and cursed and squirmed, but did not offer to bite. Brissenden looked on gravely, though once he grew excited and gripped the whiskey bottle, pleading, "Here, just let me swat him once."

"Sorry my hand played out," Martin said, when at last he desisted. "It is quite numb."

He uprighted the cub and perched him on the bed.

"I�ll have you arrested for this," he snarled, tears of boyish indignation running down his flushed cheeks. "I�ll make you sweat for this. You�ll see."

The pupil drew him inside the door, which he shut. It was dark, and the boy, coming in out of the bright daylight, could distinguish nothing; what he made out little by little assumed shapeless outlines to his frightened imagination. Voices laughed and growled confusedly in his ears, and hands that seemed to him enormous pulled him about. Terror seized him, and with it came crazy, disconnected recollections of stories of robbery and murder, and he began to scream with fright. A big hand covered the whole of his face, and in the silence that followed his stifled scream, he heard a voice out in the yard, calling to the maids to come and see something funny.

He was too paralyzed with terror to know what was being done with him, and only wondered faintly what there was funny out there in the sunshine. Would he ever see the sun again, he wondered?

As if in answer to his thought, the door was at that moment thrown open. The light poured in and he recognized the faces about him, and found himself standing half naked in the full daylight, his trousers down about his heels and his shirt tucked up under his waistcoat. The pupil stood at one side with a carriage-whip, with which he flicked at the boy's naked body, crying in a tone of command: "Run!" Pelle, wild with terror and confusion, dashed into the yard, but there stood the maids, and at sight of him they screamed with laughter, and he turned to fly back into the coach-house. But he was met by the whip, and forced to return into the daylight, leaping like a kangaroo and calling forth renewed shouts of laughter. Then he stood still, crying helplessly, under a shower of coarse remarks, especially from the maids. He no longer noticed the whip, but only crouched down, trying to hide himself, until at last he sank in a heap upon the stone paving, sobbing convulsively.

(...)

They took the sun's measure. Rud declared that if you could see it when you bent down and looked between your legs, then it was five o'clock. Pelle began to put on his clothes.

Rud was circling about him. "I say!" he said suddenly. "If I may have it, I'll let you whip me with nettles."

"On your bare body?" asked Pelle.

Rud nodded.

In a second Pelle was out of his trousers again, and running to a patch of nettles. He pulled them up with the assistance of a dock-leak, as many as he could hold, and came back again. Rud lay down, face downwards, on a little mound, and the whipping began.

The agreement was a hundred strokes, but when Rud had received ten, he got up and refused to have any more.

"Then you won't get the money," said Pelle. "Will you or won't you?" He was red with excitement and the exertion, and the perspiration already stood in beads down his slender back, for he had worked with a will. "Will you or won't you? Seventy-five strokes then!" Pelle's voice quivered with eagerness, and he had to dilate his nostrils to get air enough; his limbs began to tremble.

"No--only sixty--you hit so hard! And I must have the money first, or you may cheat me."

"I don't cheat," said Pelle gloomily. But Rud held to his point.

Pelle's body writhed; he was like a ferret that has tasted blood. With a jerk he threw the coin at Rud, and grumbling, pushed him down. He wept inwardly because he had let him off forty strokes; but he made up his mind to lay into him all the harder for it.

Then he beat, slowly and with all his might, while Rud burrowed with his head in the grass and clasped the money tightly to keep up his strength. There was hatred in every stroke that Pelle struck, and they went like shocks through his playmate's body, but he never uttered a cry. No, there was no point in his crying, for the coin he held in his hand took away the pain. But about Pelle's body the air burnt like fire, his arms began to give way with fatigue, and his inclination diminished with every stroke. It was toil, nothing but hard toil. And the money--the beautiful half-krone--was slipping farther and farther away, and he would be poor once more; and Rud was not even crying! At the forty-sixth stroke he turned his face and put out his tongue, whereat Pelle burst into a roar, threw down the frayed nettle-stalks, and ran away to the fir-plantation.

There he sat for the rest of the day under a dune, grieving over his loss, while Rud lay under the bank of the stream, bathing his blistered body with wet earth.

And then Master Charley would take a malicious pleasure in consoling him, by saying, "Of course, you know, you'll only have to fag for the first two or three years; then - if you get into the fourth form - you'll be able to have a fag for yourself. And it's awful fun, I can tell you, to see the way some of the fags get riled at cricket! You get a feller to give you a few balls, just for practice, and you hit the ball into another feller's ground; and then you tell your fag to go and pick it up. So he goes to do it, when the other feller sings out, 'Don't touch that ball, or I'll lick you!' So you tell the fag to come to you, and you say, 'Why don't you do as I tell you?' And he says, 'Please, sir!' and then the little beggar blubbers. So you say to him, 'None of that, sir! Touch your toes!' We always make 'em wear straps on purpose. And then his trousers go tight and beautiful, and you take out your strap and warm him! And then he goes to get the ball, and the other feller sings out, 'I told you to let that ball alone! Come here, sir! Touch your toes!' So he warms him too; and then we go on all jolly. It's awful fun, I can tell you!"

Among the new class which came to the second-grade teacher, a young timid girl, was one Tommy, who for naughty deeds had been many times spanked by his first-grade teacher. "Send him to me any time when you want him spanked," suggested the latter; "I can manage him."

One morning, about a week after this conversation, Tommy appeared at the first-grade teacher's door. She dropped her work, seized him by the arm, dragged him to the dressing-room, turned him over her knee and did her duty.

When she had finished she said: "Well, Tommy, what have you to say?"

"Please, Miss, my teacher wants the scissors."

"One day my parents drove to the capital of the district. My aunt determined to take advantage of their absence, and to exercise judgment over me. She entered unexpectedly in her fur-lined kazabaika,[2] followed by the cook, kitchen-maid, and the cat of a chamber-maid whom I had scorned. Without asking any questions, they seized me and bound me hand and foot, in spite of my violent resistance. Then my aunt, with an evil smile, rolled up her sleeve and began to whip me with a stout switch. She whipped so hard that the blood flowed, and that, at last, notwithstanding my heroic spirit, I cried and wept and begged for mercy. She then had me untied, but I had to get down on my knees and thank her for the punishment and kiss her hand.

(...)

I looked at the agreement. Her name was written there in bold letters. I peered once more into her eyes with their potent magic, then I took the pen and quickly signed the agreement.

"You are trembling," said Wanda calmly, "shall I help you?"

She gently took hold of my hand, and my name appeared at the bottom of the second paper. Wanda looked once more at the two documents, and then locked them in the desk which stood at the head of the ottoman.

"Now then, give me your passport and money."

I took out my wallet and handed it to her. She inspected it, nodded, and put it with other things while in a sweet drunkenness I kneeled before her leaning my head against her breast.

Suddenly she thrusts me away with her foot, leaps up, and pulls the bell-rope. In answer to its sound three young, slender negresses enter; they are as if carved of ebony, and are dressed from head to foot in red satin; each one has a rope in her hand.

Suddenly I realize my position, and am about to rise. Wanda stands proudly erect, her cold beautiful face with its sombre brows and contemptous eyes is turned toward me. She stands before me as mistress, commanding, gives a sign with her hand, and before I really know what has happened to me the negresses have dragged me to the ground, and have tied me hand and foot. As in the case of one about to be executed my arms are bound behind my back, so that I can scarcely move.

"Give me the whip, Haydee," commands Wanda, with unearthly calm.

The negress hands it to her mistress, kneeling.

"And now take off my heavy furs," she continues, "they impede me."

The negress obeyed.

"The jacket there!" Wanda commanded.

Haydee quickly brought her the kazabaika, set with ermine, which lay on the bed, and Wanda slipped into it with two inimitably graceful movements.

"Now tie him to the pillar here!"

The negresses lifted me up, and twisting a heavy rope around my body, tied me standing against one of the massive pillars which supported the top of the wide Italian bed.

Then they suddenly disappeared, as if the earth had swallowed them.

Wanda swiftly approached me. Her white satin dress flowed behind her in a long train, like silver, like moonlight; her hair flared like flames against the white fur of her jacket. Now she stood in front of me with her left hand firmly planted on her hips, in her right hand she held the whip. She uttered an abrupt laugh.

"Now play has come to an end between us," she said with heartless coldness. "Now we will begin in dead earnest. You fool, I laugh at you and despise you; you who in your insane infatuation have given yourself as a plaything to me, the frivolous and capricious woman. You are no longer the man I love, but my slave, at my mercy even unto life and death.

"You shall know me!

"First of all you shall have a taste of the whip in all seriousness, without having done anything to deserve it, so that you may understand what to expect, if you are awkward, disobedient, or refractory."

With a wild grace she rolled back her fur-lined sleeve, and struck me across the back.

I winced, for the whip cut like a knife into my flesh.

"Well, how do you like that?" she exclaimed.

I was silent.

"Just wait, you will yet whine like a dog beneath my whip," she threatened, and simultaneously began to strike me again.

The blows fell quickly, in rapid succession, with terrific force upon my back, arms, and neck; I had to grit my teeth not to scream aloud. Now she struck me in the face, warm blood ran down, but she laughed, and continued her blows.

"It is only now I understand you," she exclaimed. "It really is a joy to have some one so completely in one's power, and a man at that, who loves you�you do love me?�No�Oh! I'll tear you to shreds yet, and with each blow my pleasure will grow. Now, twist like a worm, scream, whine! You will find no mercy in me!"

Finally she seemed tired.

She tossed the whip aside, stretched out on the ottoman, and rang.

The negresses entered.

"Untie him!"

As they loosened the rope, I fell to the floor like a lump of wood. The black women grinned, showing their white teeth.

(...)

She laughed aloud. It was an evil, shrill laugh which made cold shivers run down by back.

"You used to dream of being the slave, the plaything of a beautiful woman, and now you imagine you are a free human being, a man, my lover-you fool! A sign from me, and you are a slave again. Down on your knees!"

I sank down from the ottoman to her feet, but my eye still clung doubtingly on hers.

"You can't believe it," she said, looking at me with her arms folded across her breast. "I am bored, and you will just do to while away a couple of hours of time. Don't look at me that way�"

She kicked me with her foot.

"You are just what I want, a human being, a thing, an animal�"

She rang. The three negresses entered.

"Tie his hands behind his back."

I remained kneeling and unresistingly let them do this. They led me into the garden, down to the little vineyard, which forms the southern boundary. Corn had been planted between the espaliers, and here and there a few dead stalks still stood. To one side was a plough.

The negresses tied me to a post, and amused themselves sticking me with their golden hair-needles. But this did not last long, before Wanda appeared with her ermine cap on her head, and with her hands in the pockets of her jacket. She had me untied, and then my hands were fastened together on my back. She finally had a yoke put around my neck, and harnessed me to the plough.

Then her black demons drove me out into the field. One of them held the plough, the other one led me by a line, the third applied the whip, and Venus in Furs stood to one side and looked on.

(...)

Yes, tie me," the painter replied dully. Wanda tied his hands on his back and drew a rope through his arms and a second one around his body, and fettered him to the cross-bars of the window. Then she rolled back the fur, seized the whip, and stepped in front of him.

The scene had a grim attraction for me, which I cannot describe. I felt my heart beat, when, with a smile, she drew back her arm for the first blow, and the whip hissed through the air. He winced slightly under the blow. Then she let blow after blow rain upon him, with her mouth half-opened and her teeth flashing between her red lips, until he finally seemed to ask for mercy with his piteous, blue eyes. It was indescribable.

Next we took from the side of the room a long broad bench, made easy to lie at length on by a soft cushion in a callico-cover; and every thing being now ready, he took his coat and waistcoat off; and at his motion and desire, I unbutton'd his breeches, and rolling up his shirt rather above his waist, tuck'd it in securely there: when directing naturally my eyes to that humoursome master-movement, in whose favour all these dispositions were making, it seemed almost shrunk into his body, scarce shewing its tip above the sprout of hairy curls that cloathed those parts, as you may have seen a wren peep its head out of the grass.

Stooping then to untie his garters, he gave them me for the use of tying him down to the legs of the bench: a circumstance no farther necessary than, as I suppose, it made part of the humour of the thing, since he prescribed it to himself, amongst the rest of the ceremonial.

I led him then to the bench, and according to my cue, play'd at forcing him to lie down: which, after some little shew of reluctance, for form-sake, he submitted to; he was straightway extended flat upon his belly, on the bench, with a pillow under his face; and as he thus tamely lay, I tied him slightly hand and foot, to the legs of it; which done, his shirt remaining truss'd up over the small of his back, I drew his breeches quite down to his knees; and now he lay, in all the fairest, broadest display of that part of the back-view; in which a pair of chubby, smooth-cheek'd and passing white posteriours rose cushioning upwards from two stout, fleshful thighs, and ending their cleft, or separation by an union at the small of the back, presented a bold mark, that swell'd, as it were, to meet the scourge.

Seizing now one of the rods, I stood over him, and according to his direction, gave him in one breath, ten lashes with much good-will, and the utmost nerve and vigour of arm that I could put to them, so as to make those fleshy orbs quiver again under them; whilst he himself seem'd no more concern'd, or to mind them, than a lobster would a fleabite. In the mean time, I viewed intently the effects of them, which to me at least appear'd surprisingly cruel: every lash had skimmed the surface of those white cliffs, which they deeply reddened, and lapping round the side of the furthermost from me, cut specially, into the dimple of it such livid weals, as the blood either spun out from, or stood in large drops on; and, from some of the cuts, I picked out even the splinters of the rod that had stuck in the skin. Nor was this raw work to be wonder'd at, considering the greenness of the twigs and the severity of the infliction, whilst the whole surface of his skin was so smooth-stretched over the hard and firm pulp of flesh that fill'd it, as to yield no play, or elusive swagging under the stroke: which thereby took place the more plum, and cut into the quick.

I was however already so mov'd at the piteous sight, that I from my heart repented the undertaking, and would willingly have given over, thinking he had full enough; but, he encouraging and beseeching me earnestly to proceed, I gave him ten more lashes; and then resting, survey'd the increase of bloody appearances. And at length, steel'd to the sight by his stoutness in suffering, I continued the discipline, by intervals, till I observ'd him wreathing and twisting his body, in a way that I could plainly perceive was not the effect of pain, but of some new and powerful sensation: curious to dive into the meaning of which, in one of my pauses of intermission, I approached, as he still kept working, and grinding his belly against the cushion under him; and, first stroking the untouched and unhurt side of the flesh-mount next me, then softly insinuating my hand under his thigh, felt the posture things were in forwards, which was indeed surprizing: for that machine of his, which I had, by its appearance, taken for an impalpable, or at best a very diminutive subject, was now, in virtue of all that smart and havoc of his skin behind, grown not only to a prodigious stiffness of erection, but to a size that frighted even me: a nonpareil thickness indeed! the head of it alone fill'd the utmost capacity of my grasp. And when, as he heav'd and wriggled to and fro, in the agitation of his strange pleasure, it came into view, it had something of the air of a round fillet of the whitest veal, and like its owner, squab, and short in proportion to its breadth; but when he felt my hand there, he begg'd I would go on briskly with my jerking, or he should never arrive at the last stage of pleasure.

Resuming then the rod and the exercise of it, I had fairly worn out three bundles, when, after an increase of struggles and motion, and a deep sigh or two, I saw him lie still and motionless; and now he desir'd me to desist, which I instantly did; and proceeding to untie him, I could not but be amazed at his passive fortitude, on viewing the skin of his butcher'd, mangled posteriours, late so white, smooth and polish'd, now all one side of them a confused cut-work of weals, livid flesh, gashes and gore, insomuch that when he stood up, he could scarce walk; in short, he was in sweetbriars.

Then I plainly perceived, on the cushion, the marks of a plenteous effusion, and already had his sluggard member run up to its old nestling-place, and enforced itself again, as if ashamed to shew its head; which nothing, it seems, could raise but stripes inflicted on its opposite neighbours, who were thus constantly obliged to suffer for his caprice.

Part 9

My gentleman had now put on his clothes and recomposed himself, when giving me a kiss, and placing me by him, he sat himself down as gingerly as possible, with one side off the cushion, which was too sore for him to bear resting any part of his weight on.

Here he thank'd me for the extreme pleasure I had procured him, and seeing, perhaps, some marks in my countenance of terror and apprehension of retaliation on my own skin, for what I had been the instrument of his suffering in his, he assured me, that he was ready to give up to me any engagement I might deem myself under to stand him, as he had done me, but if that proceeded in my consent to it, he would consider the difference of my sex, its greater delicacy and incapacity to undergo pain. Rehearten'd at which, and piqu'd in honour, as I thought, not to flinch so near the trial, especially as I well knew Mrs. Cole was an eye-witness, from her stand of espial, to the whole of our transactions, I was now less afraid of my skin than of his not furnishing me with an opportunity of signalizing my resolution.

Consonant to this disposition was my answer, but my courage was still more in my head, than in my heart; and as cowards rush into the danger they fear, in order to be the sooner rid of the pain of that sensation, I was entirely pleas'd with his hastening matters into execution.

He had then little to do, but to unloose the strings of my petticoats, and lift them, together with my shift, navelhigh, where he just tuck'd them up loosely girt, and might be slipt up higher at pleasure. Then viewing me round with great seeming delight, he laid me at length on my face upon the bench, and when I expected he would tie me, as I had done him, and held out my hands, not without fear and a little trembling, he told me he would by no means terrify me unnecessarily with such a confinement; for that though he meant to put my constancy to some trial, the standing it was to be completely voluntary on my side, and therefore I might be at full liberty to get up whenever I found the pain too much for me. You cannot imagine how much I thought myself bound, by being thus allow'd to remain loose, and how much spirit this confidence in me gave me, so that I was even from my heart careless how much my flesh might suffer in honour of it.

All by back parts, naked half way up, were now fully at his mercy: and first, he stood at a convenient distance, delighting himself with a gloating survey of the attitude I lay in, and of all the secret stores I thus expos'd to him in fair display.

Then, springing eagerly towards me, he cover'd all those naked parts with a fond profusion of kisses; and now, taking hold of the rod, rather wanton'd with me, in gentle inflictions on those tender trembling masses of my flesh behind, than in any way hurt them, till by degrees, he began to tingle them with smarter lashes, so as to provoke a red colour into them, which I knew, as well by the flagrant glow I felt there, as by his telling me, they now emulated the native roses of my other cheeks. When he had thus amus'd himself with admiring and toying with them, he went on to strike harder, and more hard; so that I needed all my patience not to cry out, or complain at least. At last, he twigg'd me so smartly as to fetch blood in more than one lash: at sight of which he flung down the rod, flew to me, kissed away the starting drops, and sucking the wounds eased a good deal of my pain. But now raising me on my knees, and making me kneel with them straddling wide, that tender part of me, naturally the province of pleasure, not of pain, came in for its share of suffering: for now, eyeing it wistfully, he directed the rod so that the sharp ends of the twigs lighted there, so sensibly, that I could not help wincing, and writhing my limbs with smart; so that my contortions of body must necessarily throw it into infinite variety of postures and points of view, fit to feast the luxury of the eye. But still I bore every thing without crying out: when presently giving me another pause, he rush'd, as it were, on that part whose lips, and round-about, had felt this cruelty, and by way of reparation, glews his own to them; then he opened, shut, squeez'd them, pluck'd softly the overgrowing moss, and all this in a style of wild passionate rapture and enthusiasm, that express'd excess of pleasure; till betaking himself to the rod again, encourag'd by my passiveness, and infuriated with this strange taste of delight, he made my poor posteriours pay for the ungovernableness of it; for now shewing them no quarter the traitor cut me so, that I wanted but little of fainting away, when he gave over. And yet I did not utter one groan, or angry expostulation; but in heart I resolv'd nothing so seriously, as never to expose myself again to the like serverities.

You may guess then in what a curious pickle those soft flesh-cushions of mine were, all sore, raw, and in fine, terribly clawed off; but so far from feeling any pleasure in it, that the recent smart made me pout a little, and not with the greatest air of satisfaction receive the compliments, and after-caresses of the author of my pain.

Then they addressed themselves to carousel, till the wine began to work upon them, when the eldest lady rose and making an obeisance to her guests, took the cateress by the hand and said, 'Come, sisters, let us do our duty.' And they answered, 'It is well.' So the portress rose and cleared the middle of the saloon, after she had removed the table service and thrown away the remains of the banquet.

Then she renewed the perfumes in the censers and made the Calenders sit down on a sofa by the dais and the Khalif and his companions on a sofa at the other end; after which she called to the porter, saying, 'How dull and slothful thou art! Come and help us: thou art no stranger, but one of the household!' So he rose and girt his middle and said, 'What would you have me do?' And she answered, 'Stay where thou art.'

Then the cateress rose and setting a chair in the middle of the room, went to a closet, which she opened, saying to the porter, 'Come and help me.'

So he went to her and she brought out two black bitches, with chains round their necks, and gave them to him, saying, 'Take them.'

So he took them and carried them to the middle of the saloon; whereupon the mistress of the house tucked up her sleeves and taking a whip, said to the porter, 'Bring me one of the bitches.'

So he brought it to her by the chain; and the bitch wept and shook its head at the damsel, who brought the whip down on it, whilst the porter held it by the chain.

The bitch howled and whined, but the lady ceased not to beat it till her arm was tired; when she threw away the whip and pressing the bitch to her bosom, kissed it on the head and wiped away its tears.

Then she said to the porter, 'Take it back and bring the other.'

He did as she bade him, and she did with the second bitch as she had done with the first.

SEXUAL intercourse can be compared to a quarrel, on account of the contrarieties of love and its tendency to dispute. The place of striking with passion is the body, and on the body the special places are:

• The shoulders
• The head
• The space between the breasts
• The back
• The jaghana, or middle part of the body
• The sides

Striking is of four kinds:

• Striking with the back of the hand
• Striking with the fingers a little contracted
• Striking with the fist
• Striking with the open palm of the hand

On account of its causing pain, striking gives rise to the hissing sound, which is of various kinds, and to the eight kinds of crying:

• The sound Hin
• The thundering sound
• The cooing sound
• The weeping sound
• The sound Phut
• The sound Ph�t
• The sound S�t
• The sound Pl�t

Besides these, there are also words having a meaning, such as `mother', and those that are expressive of prohibition, sufficiency, desire of liberation, pain or praise, and to which may be added sounds like those of the dove, the cuckoo, the green pigeon, the parrot, the bee, the sparrow, the flamingo, the duck, and the quail, which are all occasionally made use of.

Blows with the fist should be given on the back of the woman while she is sitting on the lap of the man, and she should give blows in return, abusing the man as if she were angry, and making the cooing and the weeping sounds. While the woman is engaged in congress the space between the breasts should be struck with the back of the hand, slowly at first, and then proportionately to the increasing excitement, until the end.

At this time the sounds Hin and others may be made, alternately or optionally, according to habit. When the man, making the sound Ph�t, strikes the woman on the head, with the fingers of his hand a little contracted, it is called Prasritaka, which means striking with the fingers of the hand a little contracted. In this case the appropriate sounds are the cooing sound, the sound Ph�t and the sound Phut in the interior of the mouth, and at the end of congress the sighing and weeping sounds. The sound Ph�t is an imitation of the sound of a bamboo being split, while the sound Phut is like the sound made by something falling into water. At all times when kissing and such like things are begun, the woman should give a reply with a hissing sound. During the excitement when the woman is not accustomed to striking, she continually utters words expressive of prohibition, sufficiently, or desire of liberation, as well as the words `father', `mother', intermingled with the sighing, weeping and thundering sounds.1 Towards the conclusion of the congress, the breasts, the jaghana, and the sides of the woman should be pressed with the open palms of the hand, with some force, until the end of it, and then sounds like those of the quail or the goose should be made.

There are two verses on the subject as follows:

The characteristics of manhood are said to consist of roughness and impetuosity, while weakness, tenderness, sensibility, and an inclination to turn away from unpleasant things are the distinguishing marks of womanhood. The excitement of passion, and peculiarities of habit may sometimes cause contrary results to appear, but these do not last long, and in the end the natural state is resumed.'

The wedge on the bosom, the scissors on the head, the piercing instrument on the cheeks, and the pinchers on the breasts and sides, may also be taken into consideration with the other four modes of striking, and thus give eight ways altogether. But these four ways of striking with instruments are peculiar to the people of the southern countries, and the marks caused by them are seen on the breasts of their women. They are local peculiarities, but Vatsyayana is of opinion that the practice of them is painful, barbarous, and base, and quite unworthy of imitation.

In the same way anything that is a local peculiarity should not always be adopted elsewhere, and even in the place where the practice is prevalent, excess of it should always be avoided. Instances of the dangerous use of them may be given as follows. The king of the Panchalas killed the courtesan Madhavasena by means of the wedge during congress. King Satakarni Satavahana of the Kuntalas deprived his great Queen Malayavati of her life by a pair of scissors, and Naradeva, whose hand was deformed, blinded a dancing girl by directing a piercing instrument in a wrong way.

There are also two verses on the subject as follows:

About these things there cannot be either enumeration or any definite rule. Congress having once commenced, passion alone gives birth to all the acts of the parties.'

Such passionate actions and amorous gesticulations or movements, which arise on the spur of the moment, and during sexual intercourse, cannot be defined, and are as irregular as dreams. A horse having once attained the fifth degree of motion goes on with blind speed, regardless of pits, ditches, and posts in his way; and in the same manner a loving pair become blind with passion in the heat of congress, and go on with great impetuosity, paying not the least regard to excess. For this reason one who is well acquainted with the science of love, and knowing his own strength, as also the tenderness, impetuosity, and strength of the young women, should act accordingly. The various modes of enjoyment are not for all times or for all persons, but they should only be used at the proper time. and in the proper countries and places.'

(WARNING: Pedophilia)

I knew a man, said she, whose passion consisted in hearing children wail and cry; he had to have a mother with a child of no more than three or four. He required this mother to give her offspring a sound thrashing; it had to be done before him, and when the little creature, aroused by this treatment, began to bawl, the mother had next to catch hold of the rogue's prick and frig it industriously, directing the glans at the child, in whose face he would discharge when the little one was singing his loudest.

Good steed, bad steed, alike need the rowel's prick, Good wife, bad wife, alike demand the stick.

(...)

Thereupon Giosefo took a stout cudgel cut from an oak sapling, and hied him into the room whither the lady had withdrawn from the table in high dudgeon, seized her by the hair, threw her on to the floor at his feet, and fell a beating her amain with the cudgel. The lady at first uttered a shriek or two, from which she passed to threats; but seeing that, for all that, Giosefo slackened not, by the time she was thoroughly well thrashed, she began to cry him mercy, imploring him not to kill her, and adding that henceforth his will should be to her for law. But still Giosefo gave not over, but with ever fresh fury dealt her mighty swingeing blows, now about the ribs, now on the haunches, now over the shoulders; nor had he done with the fair lady, until, in short, he had left never a bone or other part of her person whole, and he was fairly spent. Then, returning to Melisso:--"To-morrow," quoth he, "we shall see whether 'Get thee to the Bridge of Geese' will prove to have been sound advice or no." And so, having rested a while, and then washed his hands, he supped with Melisso. With great pain the poor lady got upon her feet and laid herself on her bed, and having there taken such rest as she might, rose betimes on the morrow, and craved to know of Giosefo what he was minded to have to breakfast. Giosefo, laughing with Melisso over the message, gave her his directions, and when in due time they came to breakfast, they found everything excellently ordered according as it had been commanded: for which cause the counsel, which they had at first failed to understand, now received their highest commendation.

Proverbs 13:24
He that spareth his rod hateth his son: but he that loveth him chasteneth him betimes (diligently).

Proverbs 19:18
Chasten thy son while there is hope, and let not thy soul spare for his crying.

Proverbs 22:15
Foolishness is bound in the heart of a child; but the rod of correction shall drive it far from him.

Proverbs 23:13
Withhold not correction from the child: for if thou beatest him with the rod, he shall not die.

Proverbs 23:14
Thou shalt beat him with the rod, and shalt deliver his soul from hell (Sheol).

Proverbs 29:15
The rod and reproof give wisdom: but a child left to himself bringeth his mother to shame.