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By the same author:
MEMOIRS OF A CORNISH GOVERNESS THE GOVERNESS AT ST AGATHA'S THE HOUSE OF MALDONA THE ISLAND OF MALDONA
THE GOVERNESS ABROAD
Yolanda Celbridge
This book is a work of fiction.
In real lifp rrmke sure you practise safe sex.
First published in 1996 by Nexus
332 Ladbroke Grove London W10 5AH
Copyright © Yolanda Celbridge 1996
Typeset by TW Typesetting, Plymouth, Devon
Printed and bound by
BPC Paperbacks Ltd, Aylesbury, Bucks
ISBN 0 352 33100 3
The right of Yolanda Celbridge to be identified as the Author of this Work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental
This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the publisher's prior written consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
Contents


1
On the Bare
1

2
Intimacy
15

3
Clothilde
33

4
Emily Spanked
47

5
HMS Magnificent
61

6
Pink Panties
71

7
A Swimming Race
95

8
Wrestling Naked
107

9
Captured by Pirates
121

10
Bound and Gagged
133

11
The Queen's Dungeon
141

12
Princess of Socotra
151

13
Taming my Master
161

14
The Captain's Cabin
173

15
Slaves in Paradise
181

16
Birth
191

17
Homeward Bound
213

On the Bare
'Yachting,' I said, 'seems to be a most agreeable pastime. Especially when the sun warms me so and permits me to wear such nice frilly things. And when the ship's captain is such a nice man as you, Rudiger. I think all my friends would agree to that.'
I breathed deeply of the hot Mediterranean air, and felt that the cares of a headmistress in rainy Wimbledon were a million miles away, or, as they say in the South of France, a million kilometres.
'May I get up, now, Mistress?' said Rudiger, the Greyhound King of East London, from his prone position. I considered the matter.
'No, I think not, Rudiger,' I at last replied. 'I don't think you have had ... shall we say, enough.'
'Mistress, I must have taken a good fifty! Surely...'
'But you are pleased with what you've taken, my man. Aren't you? Tell the truth.'
'Yes, Mistress,' Rudiger mumbled, with a smile on his lips. 'You know I shall always tell the truth.'
I rewarded him with another cut from my rattan cane on his reddened bare buttocks. His gasp was a pleasure to my ears. And the sight of a male bottom, naked and squirming under my control, caused me a certain tremor of excitement ... a je ne sais quoi (as I thought - since we were off the port of Marseille -it seemed logical to think in French).
Thus thinking, I idly flicked Rudiger's bare bum with my cane, and got a certain smile from him. Men are such funny creatures! I like them, really, especially my dear Freddie, but they do need to be dominated by a loving woman. It is the only way to make them behave properly! I suppose it is because so many of them have been to boarding schools where they learn to receive the most ferocious punishments. Freddie, who, thanks to my good advice, was not permitted to enter Eton College, told me (as I was attending to him in a most intimate portion of his anatomy), that in one of his prep schools there was a system of punishment called The Weapon'. This consisted of a rugby football sock, loaded with a dozen golf balls, being applied thirty times to the bare bum of a naked male under a cold shower.
As a headmistress I find this quite appalling. Corporal punishment must always be effected with love not brutality.
Rudiger confirmed my belief by whimpering: 'Another cut, please, Mistress.'
I obliged him. The wriggling of his naked fesses was sheer beauty to me.
'Mmm ...' I said to my squirming male captive, i think, Captain, that your dress sense is improper. Even though we are off the coast of France, certain proprieties must be observed. Your frock is a nice crimson, and matches your bum quite well, but it's pulled much too far up your back. Oh dear, I think you deserve another flogging.'
'If I deserve it, so be it, Mistress.'
My lash caressed him once more on his buttocks and he rewarded me with a smile.
'Tell me, Captain, where are you taking us?' I said.
He smiled again. 'That, Mistress, is my secret.'
'Then I shall have to beat it from you.'
'Please.'
And, in that hot sun, I gave him what he wanted and deserved. A good thrashing on the bare, which is what, as I repeated to the Greyhound King of East London, all naughty boys deserve. How lovely it is for a lady to give a naked man what he so richly deserves, and wants!
I still did not know of our destination but, under that hot sun, I did not care. I left my captain, after having tucked him into his dress, and kissed his lips. I had another task. A woman. It is always harder to be kind to a woman, and Veronica Dove was so lovely that my punishment of her would have to be quite painful, both to her and to me.
Veronica was indulging in this new, rather hedonistic, practice of 'sunbathing', in which the body, the naked body, is exposed to the health-giving rays of Mercury or the sun. It seems that a Dutchman in Java - one of those places I long to visit one day - discovered that the sunshine gives what he calls vitamins. That is, the sun's rays made his chickens grow bigger and fatter, and so on. Despite my Cornishness, I know little of chickens, but I do know that a plump young lady will grow even more beautiful upon the judicious application of sunshine to her bare bottom. After, of course, said globes have been soundly attended to with palm, whip or cane ... But I digress.
My steps took me to the opposite deck, where Veronica Dove would be awaiting me. She would be sunbathing nude, as was her custom, as indeed it was mine, and her pert, ripe bum would be splayed just ready for whatever punishment she had deserved. I knew that the artful Veronica could invent some misdeed to earn her a spanking, or worse, from a loving hand. And no hand was more loving than my own.
As I traversed the ship, I felt myself to be delicious and wet between my thighs. I chided myself: I thought that I was the one who deserved spanking, but I always felt so loving towards dear Veronica, and to her father - the Muscled Major, I had mischievously dubbed him. Her mother, too, was the sweetest of ladies, and I had - let us say, tamed her in the fashion of St Agatha's. There is nothing to tame a wilful lady, or any gentleman at all, so well as a good thrashing on the bare.
Funny, I thought, as I proceeded to the waiting bare bum of Veronica, how sweet the bum actually is! I mean, consider dear Freddie's for example, or Veronica's: the man's is taut and muscled (oh dear Major Dove and his sweet lady, Thalia!), the woman's so much softer.
The bottom! My own is fine; peach shaped, or pear shaped perhaps. I love to touch her, caress her, and when I do, then my index finger sometimes strays to my damsel, my rapidly stiffening damsel! There! I have spoken out of turn and have earned myself a spanking with my very own hairbrush!
But a man's bare bum is - how can a lady put it? -so gorgeous and hard, especially when it is squirming under a hard quirt. Yes, a man must squirm to be truly loving. And the smile on his face as his bum reddens is to a woman like no other serenity, no other pleasure.
Now I was to chastise the naked bottom of Veronica Dove! And already, as I crossed the fo'c'sle, I was set.
I became wetter when I saw the naked Veronica Dove, prone on the deck, awaiting my punishment, for whatever misdemeanour she should invent.
'Miss de Comynge,' Veronica said sweetly. 'My dearest Mistress, you can see that I am awfully naughty. Naked on the ship's deck, thus, earning and ready for punishment.'
'Is that so, Veronica,' I said, flicking my cane. 'Well, Veronica. Well, well, well.'
'That is redundancy, miss,' replied the naked young lady. 'You have no need to repeat the word "well", and I am sure that there is something in the rules of our sisterhood that forbids such an impertinence, and would earn you a flogging.'
Veronica smiled with the wicked smile that she knew would melt my heart, then lifted her arm to toss her hair in the summer breeze. I thought just then, as she knew I would, that she was the most beautiful creature imaginable. And - as she also knew - that I should have to give her bare bottom a ripe beating to cure her of her mischief. I looked at her - superb in her nudity - and she knew, the minx, what joy I had in her contemplation.
'Isn't it lovely, miss?' she said. 'I wonder why you don't make yourself comfortable, as I am.' And she yawned.
'You wonder too much, Veronica,' I replied, and flicked her adorably naked bum with the tip of my cane. 'I think you know what's coming to you for this shameless behaviour of yours.'
Now Veronica sat upright, her golden breasts with their lovely ruby nipples standing so straight and proud. I could have kissed her! Kissed her nipples and the sweet round bum that I knew I had to flog quite harshly. I had to teach the sweet minx her manners! But I felt giddy and could not bring myself to do it, just yet.
I sat down beside Veronica and smiled at her.
'A beating, miss?' she said. 'On my bare? For my wicked crime of being naked on the deck, where nobody, I must add, can see me!'
'You must not call me miss, Veronica, but Mistress,' I answered. 'For here I am not a part of your team at Swish, but the Governess of St Agatha's, to which you will soon return, when this jaunt is over.'
'When Mr Rudiger deems it to be over,' said Veronica smugly.
'You know something that I do not?' I asked my voice containing a harshness I instantly regretted, for it made Veronica smile like the little cat she was. And I smiled too, for her insolence, now barefaced in every wayy made me want to tickle her bare bum so hard and so beautifully that I became quite wet at the mere thought.
'Mistress,' said Veronica, 'if you will be called such. But, Mistress de Comynge, why is it that we all have such different pleasures? Mr Rudiger likes to dress in women's clothing, I like to be naked as you see me, Miss Chytte is below decks tugging herself into that yellow corset, or perhaps the red one.'
'Miss Chytte likes to be trussed, it is as simple as that,' I said. 'Sometimes a lady feels most a lady when she is quite helpless.' I accompanied this comment with a caress of the small of Veronica's buttocks. She sighed.
'Oh, miss - I mean, Mistress - you know what that does to me.'
'Yes, and I know what it does elsewhere ...'
'Please beat me, Mistress, as I deserve, but first...'
'Yes?'
'Oh, I don't know. I just know that I need to feel your cane on my bare bum, Mistress. Just to feel you loving me ... for it is love, isn't it?'
I was so wet I could scarcely answer the woman.
'It is love, Veronica,' I replied. 'And I also love your father, Major Dove, and your mother Thalia.'
As I brought the cane down hard on Veronica's naked rump, I saw with pleasure, that her hand had crept to her lush mink and, with a wicked smile on her face (the vixen!), she was rubbing her damsel even as I was lashing her bare. I so wanted to kiss her there, but I knew that my duty ^s headmistress was to continue her just punishment.
When thirty strokes had been administered to Veronica's bare nates, I kissed her lips and said: 'Why on earth do you like being nude, Veronica?'
'Why, Mistress - and thank you for the lovely, lovely flogging - I believe that when you were a girl at St Agatha's, you, too, used to disport yourself in a naked state.'
'That was on Wimbledon Common,' I retorted. That is different.'
Veronica gave me a big grin and bent to kiss my bare feet. This surprised me. I felt Veronica's lips caressing my toes, then her tongue venturing up my bare calves. She tongued my instep, then my heel...
'Stop! Veronica!' I cried. 'What do you think you are doing?'
Her eyes were shining as she replied. 'Your feet are very beautiful, Mistress, just as you are. Don't you like flogging my bare bum? Say yes.'
'Yes,' I said.
'And doesn't Miss Chytte like to be trussed in corselage?'
'Yes. But why .. ?'
'And Mr Rudiger likes to dress in women's clothes, Mistress? Doesn't he? Why do you think that is?'
Veronica kissed my toes once more and I felt quite giddy.
'I don't know,' I said. 'Why should you like to kiss my toes?'
'Because you are my Mistress,' said Veronica.
'And because I am your Mistress, I shall tell you that many men, such as Rudiger, desire nothing more than to share the beauty of being a woman. They wish to dress as us - no, Veronica, don't be shocked! They wish to feel the serenity and beauty that is a woman's lot, to feel the joy of being female. As for Miss Chytte - and, Veronica, I think I share her predilection for being tied -'
'Really, Mistress?'
'Sometimes it's like the pleasure of being soundly beaten, Veronica. The feeling of being sweetly, supremely, helpless, in another's stern care. Then to feel the kiss of the cane on the bare, it's like the lovely glow that you must now be feeling on your own lovely bare bum. As for Mr Rudiger, why, he is no
different from my Freddie, or young Mordevaunt. Both are pleased to be tastefully robed.'
'I have never thought of it that way, Mistress,' said Veronica, i always thought men were ... strange.'
They are not strange,' I said. 'Just incomprehensible. And now we have to go and see about Mr Rudiger, and find out where he is taking us.'
It was possibly the exhilarating effect of the sun, possibly my feeling of love for Veronica's sweet white body, possibly even the love I felt for her strong father and his military bottom, so well tanned by my thoughtful cane, and, as well, for her mother, whose plump 'counties' bum had been graced with similar treatment, but as we passed along the ship's rail, I led Veronica by my palm on the opening of her buttocks. I laid my hand quite lightly on her and she did not resist, but seemed to welcome my touch. I allowed my fingertip to stray down through her cleft, to her anus bud, and when I had my finger firmly tickling her there, she stopped and giggled.
'Mistress, do you think it is proper for me to be unclothed when we beard the Greyhound King of East London?'
'Beard? Why, he has no beard.'
'I mean quiz him about where we are to go.'
'I thought you knew, Veronica. But you are right, it is perhaps not proper for you to be unseemly when we beard, as you put it, our captain.'
'Well, Mistress, to be unclothed, here, under the sun, is it not natural? Over there is Marseille, full of the French. I am sure they spend lots of time unclothed, I mean in this hot climate.'
'Indeed, Veronica, Marseille is full of the French. I trust that comes as no surprise.'
'No, Mistress, but it might to Tess.'
Smiling at Veronica's sauciness, I responded with some of my own, and tickled her cleft. She rewarded me with a smile, then a little gasp, when my finger -expertly, I liked to think - penetrated her anus. Just for a brief, smiling second.
'Tess goes round naked all the time,' said Veronica, pouting. 'If that is not unseemly, what is?'
'Tess is Cornish, and has a right to be unseemly, when she pleases,' I replied firmly. 'But look, Veronica, it is not wise for you to bare your white skin so much to this Mediterranean sun, you know. The French no doubt have their own ways of doing things. For all I know the worthy citizens of Marseille may wear no clothes at all, but I think you should dress for a little while.'
My hand was now stroking Veronica's bare bottom with a gentle, lackadaisical motion, that made her shiver.
'My clothes are all in my cabin, Mistress,' she said.
'Then you may take mine,' I told her, and before she could answer I had stripped myself of my white silk robe. As I handed it to her, she smiled, and said:
'No panties, Mistress? I seem to remember that the first time you gave me a caning - on the bare, and how it hurt! - it was about panties. My bum was so sore I couldn't even bear the touch of any garment.'
Naked now myself, I smoothed the white robe down Veronica's body.
'That was because you were wearing the wrong panties, as you very well know,' I said. 'Here, as Governess, I may wear what panties I please - or none at all. Just as Mr Rudiger, our captain, may wear whatever he pleases.'
'Why is he called the Greyhound King of East London?'
'Oh, because he makes a lot of money gambling at Walthamstow dog track, or something,' I answered. 'These are men's matters, like captaining a ship, not for us women to inquire about.'
'Then why does Mr Rudiger like to dress as us? In frilly things? And Mr Freddie too.'
'You have peeked, Veronica!'
Her eyes were dreamy as she replied:
'Mr Freddie looks gorgeous, Mistress, when he is wearing your things. Don't think that I, and all the girls of Swish, don't know. But look - now you are nude - how can you beard Mr Rudiger robed thus?'
'I am Governess,' I said. 'Here, as everywhere, I may do as I please.'
'Oh, pshaw!' cried Veronica.
'Bad language is not permitted to ladies of St Agatha's, either in Wimbledon or Marseille,' I said sternly. 'Veronica Dove, you will please bend over the guardrail and lift your robe so that I may administer a slight chastisement to your buttocks.'
'Bare bum, miss? I must call you miss, I think.'
'You know that at St Agatha's it is always bare bum.'
Veronica obeyed. \
My hand trembled as I looked at her bare white bum ready for my cane, the full ripeness of her sweet young body. Although I had tended to her before, I scarcely had the heart to do it again, until she looked round and winked at me.
'Six of the best?' I said, wet in my quim at the lovely sight of Veronica's backside awaiting punishment.
'I should prefer ten, miss,' she answered. 'You know it's what I deserve.'
'Ten it is, then.'
'Would you like me to count?'
'I am well able to count!' I cried.
'Are you sure, miss? Please make them the hardest, tightest cuts you can give. Please.'
I lifted the cane and began to flog her. I did make them tight until, as the white beauty of her bottom squirming under my strokes mingled with the brown outline of the city across the bay, I lost count. Veronica was counting for me, when suddenly another bare bottom presented itself for my attention. It was Mr Rudiger, skirt pulled up, and begging for punishment.
He kissed my bare feet before bending himself over the guardrail alongside Veronica.
'Before I start your chastisement, Mr Rudiger,' I said, dizzy with the sun on my naked back, 'you will please tell me where we are going.'
'Tess knows, and Mr Freddie knows, and I think Miss Chytte knows, Governess,' he said mischievously, 'when she is not trussing herself up in all those corsets. I rather wish you would truss me up, Governess, but I suppose a good tanning will have to do for now.'
'Yes, it will,' I said a^l laid the cane on the man's already reddened bum. 'But you must tell me, Captain, exactly where we are going.' He squinted towards the sunbaked city, as his bare bum danced for me in the delicious rhythm of my tickling.
'I thought a night on the town in Marseille would suit us,' he said finally, with a grin. Tess would like it, and Miss Veronica, I'm sure. And ... Mistress, remember, spare the rod and spoil the child.'
Thus admonished by the captain, I made sure that I neither spared the rod nor spoiled the child, and when I viewed the glorious sight of two squirming red bottoms in front of me, bent over the guardrail, I felt all warm and wet and tingly and let my mind wander to what dress I should wear for that night on the town the captain had promised.
I told the captain that he was paying and he agreed. (A lady, especially a Governess, must be businesslike at all times.) I did not, for the moment, tell him what exactly he was to pay for, nor that my own bottom, naked as she was, longed for a stern Master to administer the same treatment I was dispensing to the nates of my willing slaves. Sometimes a Governess must herself be governed. Especially, as is the way of St Agatha's, on the bare!
Intimacy
'I think I'm jolly good at French, you know,' said Freddie.
'French what?' said Tess.
'Why, the French language, of course.'
'Oh, that,' said Tess.
'Yes, you know, la pine de ma tante, and all that sort of thing.'
'I don't think that is quite right, Freddie,' I chided gently. 'But I'm sure you will manage, in that lovely white suit and your Panama hat. You will look so nice against the golden sun of our Marseille evening.'
'Don't I look nice too, Mistress?' asked Tess.
'Yes, Tess,' I answered, scrutinising her. 'Well, you look ... Cornish.'
'Oh, thank you, Mistress,' she said, beaming.
'I look nice also, I think, Mistress,' said Peter Mor-devaunt in a voice I thought a trifle too huffy to be spared a good 'seeing-to' on his bare - at my convenience, of course. I sighed in exasperation.
'My lovely folk,' I said, 'I think we all look nice. We ladies are in simple black dresses down to our ankles, and sport parasols, as is proper, and flowery hats. I am not sure where Tess got her hat, but it is certainly flowery. And she makes sure of her Cornish-ness by having a shoulder strap broken, so that at any minute, one, or both, of her breasts might break loose and thunder into the world like some American tornado. The gentlemen all sport white suits, spats, and canes, so I think we are all attired correctly for our French soiree.'
'I have a black dress, too, Mistress,' said the American, Connie Sunday. 'But I should tell you that I know about tornados, for we have them in Arizona.'
'Well, we are not in Arizona, I'm afraid, Connie. Now here we are at the port of Marseille, and if I am not mistaken, there is a customs officer to greet us.'
'I've got nothing to hide,' grumbled Tess.
'I think we can all see that, girl,' I said frostily.
'Mistress,' whispered Veronica, 'I'm not sure Mr Rudiger hasn't something to hide. Or Mr Freddie, come to think of it. And even Peter Mordevaunt.'
'Whatever can you mean, Veronica?'
'Well, you know ... their manly thing; down there. It is quite obvious, you know, and since I believe the French are noted for jealousy about such things, they might make trouble.'
'Veronica,' I said, 'we will see in due course what the French of Marseille are noted for. Myself, I hope it is a good bouillabaisse, or fish stew to you.'
'Is that all?' said Tess.
'Since yob ask, no, Tess, but bouillabaisse and a good glass of wine come first.'
They did not, however, quite come first. As Mr Rudiger shunted our craft to a deft halt at the quayside, we were greeted by an immaculate, moustached member of the gendarmerie. He gave me his arm as I stepped on to the gangplank, and bade me with all courtesy to accompany him to his office, where my company would be asked a few trifling questions. Well, there is no arguing with the gendarmerie, in France or any other country, so I assented, and we followed him to a large shed, which was, in the heat of the early evening, thankfully cool. Asked if I were English, I replied, yes. The officer spoke passable English, but I made the mistake of answering him in French, thinking to expedite matters. His face lit up, and instead of the thirty forms it seemed he had to fill in, he now produced about ninety. A command of the French language did not, I realised, make one welcome in France; suspicions of spying, smuggling, and all sorts of dastardly practices were, with the greatest courtesy, mentioned. I complimented the officer on this, and, smiling, he tweaked his moustache.
There must be a search, of course,' he said in the nasal accent of his southern patrie.
'Search?' I cried. 'But... we are women! We carry nothing!'
'Except your beauty, mesdames,' he replied. 'And there are some men here too!'
'They are our friends!' I retorted.
'A search is necessary,' he said, handing me a yellow French cigarette and obliging me with a light from a yellow French match, whose flame managed to survive long enough for him to light his own.
'We were looking for bouillabaisse,' said Connie Sunday.
'I am sure that you will enjoy it,' said the officer, 'but meanwhile, as foreigners, you will have to undergo the briefest of corporeal searchings.'
Tm not a foreigner!' shouted Freddie. 'I am an Englishman! You are the foreigner, sir!'
'We do not see it like that,' said the gendarme, and picked up his telephone. He looked at me and said:
'A new French invention, madame. The telephone! What do you proud English think of that?'
'We have the telephone too,' said Veronica. 'And the automobile, you know. My Mistress has a fine one.'
The gendarme barked something into the telephonic receiver, which I could not quite catch, then said that since I was the leader of the party, it would be possible, with the liberality and politeness for which his Gallic nation were famed, to expedite the necessary formalities and make do with just one search. Which would be of my own person.
'It will only be a moment, madame,' he said, 'and then a lady nurse shall be ready to accompany you to the chambre intime, where such searches take place in the most hygienic and respectful conditions. But you intrigue me; you say you are the owner of an automobile?'
'Yes, a very fine Panhard-Levassor,' I replied tersely, aware that whatever Gallic ordeal I might be about to undergo would probably be daunting, but be/executed with exquisite manners, and with the mystery of the unexpected, that perhaps I might not be too displeased with it.
'A PanHard!' cried our gendarme. 'French, of course! We have invented the automobile along with the telephone.' And he stroked his moustache. 'But since you are Mistress, madame, I think that during your very brief search, my colleague shall ascertain what your purpose is in visiting the French Republic, and the port of Marseille.'
'Why, to get some bouillabaisse,' retorted Mr Rudiger. 'And perhaps to see some greyhound races. You do have greyhound races, don't you?'
He proceeded to explain to the gendarme what greyhound races were, and that the glories of Wal-thamstow were second to none. Tess then piped up that there was a jolly good greyhound race at Penzance from time to time, and was rewarded with a rather hearty slap on her ample, Cornish bottom from Connie Sunday, the import of which did not go unnoticed by our temporary (I hoped) guardian. The gendarme informed us gravely that greyhound racing, too, was a French invention, that French greyhound racing was unsurpassable, and that if suitable greyhound races were temporarily unavailable, Mr Rudiger should be provided with one, to illustrate the glory and eternal efficiency of the French Republic.
Freddie's exclamation of 'Pshaw!' was mercifully stifled by the arrival of a lady in a uniform of dark blue, similar to our gendarme's except that she was attired in a skirt, and wore a French tricolour pinned to the breast of her uniform shirt. I was slightly stifled myself, for she stood a good six-and-a-half feet tall, quite bigger than Freddie or Mr Rudiger or Peter Mordevaunt Her face was an impassive mask, hooknosed like an ancient Roman or perhaps an Arab, and I reminded myself that Marseille, the old Greek port of Massilia all those centuries ago, was a melting pot of innumerable races of man. And now, I realised, as, after a nod from our Gallically polite gendarme, she took my hand and led me to the door, it still was. It was not for nothing that bouillabaisse was the symbol and main attraction of Marseille. Perhaps not the main attraction, if the stories of matelots were to be believed, but everything seemed to follow from there.
'I am Officer Clothilde,' she said, not smiling. 'Since you are the Mistress of this gang - I mean group - you shall be searched, madame.'
Her grip on my wrist was perhaps firmer than necessary, and as we walked down a dim corridor, I reminded her politely of that, and that the respect due to a British subject should be accorded at all times. I threw her an affectionate glance and suggested we should strive for cordial relations. For the first time the glimmer of a smile crossed her dark red lips.
'We shall be very cordial, madame,' she said icily. 'In here, if you please.'
A large steel door was opened, and, just as rapidly, slammed shut behind me. For a moment, I fancied myself to be in a dungeon, like that I lovingly kept at St Agatha's, equipped with things of leather, rubber, steel and rope, for the chastisement of the unruly and indecorous, but on looking more closely, I thought the chamber more like a hospital operating theatre. There was one dusty electric bulb fitfully illuminating a table;^covered in white linen, upon which Clothilde indicated I should lie down, on my belly. When I had done so, she announced that I was to be searched 'intimately' and must lift my black dress to the level of my shoulder blades. I began to lift my dress, but when it had reached my hips, I opined that this would leave me in a state of immodesty.
'You will please do as I, an official of the French Republic, tell you,' she said - rather haughtily, I thought. I was moved to gasp slightly when I felt my wrists and ankles smoothly clamped in some kind of cuffs, rendering me immobile and, helpless on my bed. Well, it was not my bed as such, but I felt that it was the only home I had for the moment, so mine it was. Then I felt my dress being pulled up all the way to my shoulder blades. My bottom was bared to this woman's gaze and touched, and my feeling of helplessness began, despite myself, to turn to one of anticipation of pleasure, a pleasure unknown and yet all the more thrilling for that. I did not know what exactly was to happen, and that foreboding made my belly tingle with a strange delight, and my quim began to moisten, There I lay, with my buttocks bared to a foreign woman, whose uniform, I knew, could entitle her to inflict whatever and as many indignities on my person as she pleased!
I heard a rustling sound and twisted my head to look round. My uniformed tormentor was pulling on thin black rubber gloves. Her fingers were long and thin, and the gloves made a very ominous slithering sound as she put them on, in a businesslike way that was born, I had no doubt, of long practice. She told me to keep still, and that the business would be over in a short time.
'What business?' I said. 'Please explain.'
'Why, a search of your intimate parts, madame. I thought that was clear. Hmmm ... I see you wear no panties; that is the English fashion, I suppose.'
'Or else a lady prepared for the evening delights of Marseille,' I replied. 'Of which this is not one, I assure you.'
'Ah, you must be refractory, must you?' she said with a sigh. 'Then it is the gag for you, Mistress, as you are called, until I complete my operation.'
Before I could protest, I felt a tough leather band strapped around my lips, with a steel ball inside which depressed my tongue and made me speechless. Clothilde then scooped my long hair into a bun, or ponytail as I think certain bright girls call it, and tied it back.
'For your comfort, madame,' she said. But I noticed that just after tying my hair thus, she released her own tresses from their fastening, so that they fell over her shoulders almost to her waist. And then she unfastened the top two buttons of her uniform shirt, revealing some inches of delicate brown breast flesh.
Before I could attempt to comment by moaning through my tight gag, I was moved to cry out in my throat, and to twist my bared body, as I felt two rubber-clad fingers penetrate my most private places. Clothilde had the index finger of each hand inside me, one at my quim petals and the other at my anus bud! As I wondered what on earth, or at any rate in Marseille, she expected, or hoped, to find in such places. She must have read my thoughts and informed me that diamonds, gold, anything saleable in the back streets of the town, generally found a home in a lady's cunt or bumhole.
Her long, supple fingers penetrated me with the sureneks of a surgeon's knife. And when I gasped through my gag, feeling both my orifices so cruelly filled, I found to my annoyance that the sensation was not unpleasant. I felt her fingers probe me, move inside me, and after a while come to rest, without leaving my body. I squeezed my buttocks and quim, and put my thighs together, so that her rubber-clad hand would find exit difficult. The boot was on the other foot, so to speak. At length, she said, rather faintly:
'We know all about you, Madame de Comynge. The French police have dossiers on everyone. St Agatha's, yes. We have our sources of information everywhere. You are the Governess of a very high-class cathouse. I am sorry if my rather American phrase offends you, it was taught me by a very generous gentleman in Port Louis. He taught me a lot of things. He was from Tucson, Arizona, as he called it.'
As she spoke, Clothilde's fingers were searching my innermost parts in a way neither unpleasant to me nor, I suspected, unpleasant to her. Her voice had become a little dreamy and melancholy as she spoke, but strangely, as her melancholy increased, the force of her lovely fingers poking into my anus and quim -a force that should have made me cry out in anguish - instead made me wriggle in real pleasure; joy which was well proved by my soaking wet thighs and the oily juice of my cunt.
I heard another shuffling noise. It seemed that Clothilde felt the heat, and had doffed her uniform shirt. At that point - and it was a point indeed -Mademoiselle Clothilde's fingers had begun to dance in my anus and cunt in a way that was not a search for contraband. The pressure of her fingers in my body was so tender and so profound, that, gagged and trussed as I was, or perhaps because so, I felt my pulse race and my sex become very wet with the thrill of my domination by this strange but exciting woman. I wondered where Port Louis was. I had already guessed that Tucson, Arizona, must be not far.
'I think I shall release you from your bonds, Miss de Comynge. And your gag,' said Clothilde. 'You are an English lady, and a nod will suffice to indicate that you shall behave properly in the presence of a French official. I note, by the way, that your sex is very wet, and this shall of course be presented in your dossier. It seems that your reputation for, how shall I say, whoremongering at St Agatha's, causes you as much excitement as it does me. I am obliged to inform you that a lady's arousal, as shown by a wet sex, is not an offence here.'
A lady of businesslike qualities must always be able to bow to circumstances and, since in these circumstances I was unable to bow, I did the next best thing, and nodded. Mademoiselle Clothilde's rubber-gloved fingers abruptly removed themselves from my well explored anus and cunt, I felt the shackles being removed from my wrists and ankles, and my mouth was freed of her gag.
'Where is Port Louis?' was the first thing I said. But Mademoiselle Clothilde did not answer directly, instead she took me by the hands and turned me over on the bed. At that, I saw Mademoiselle Clothilde in her full beauty.
She was no longer dressed in a police uniform but, as she had been exploring my person for diamonds or other contraband, had stripped herself almost as bare as 1 was. She was not quite as nude as I was, though, for she wore a corset, rather of the type Miss Chytte preferred, and this one was in black rubber, covering her torso from hips to breasts. The corset was strapped at the back very tightly by an arrangement of pins, so that her bare breasts were pushed high and outwards, in a conical shape like ripe pears. These smooth olive breasts, I saw, were very full and topped with dark brown nipples, whose areolae were almost as large as my own. They were caressed intriguingly by the tresses of her long black hair which bobbed on her, making her seem like a lustrous sea creature.
Mademoiselle Clothilde was lustrous in every way. Beneath her tight corset of rubber - for which I resolved to advise her she had no need, although we women frequently robe ourselves when we have no need - she was wearing panties of the same fabric, which were perhaps too tight. They stretched from just below her dimpled bellybutton to the tops of her heavily muscled thighs, allowing strands of shiny black hair to peep from both top and bottom. I surmised therefore that she was blessed with a mink as large as my own would be, if I did not maintain the practice of shaving myself quite naked, everywhere, every day, so that my armpits and pubis are as bare as each other, and all of me is as smooth as a baby's bottom!
I have been kindly told that my bottom is as smooth as a baby's too, though a little larger. Considerably larger. For shaving I generally use a blade of the cut-throat type, given to me by Major Dove, which is quite effective and also thrilling in a strange way.
The feeling of being shaved bare in one's lady's place and touching one's naked pubis, so beautifully shorn, is quite thrilling in itself, but so is the feeling of the act of shaving, especially when the act is performed by another: sometimes I order Freddie or Miss Chytte to serve me thus.
As the blade touches my bared cunny, she seems an invader, an oppressor, making me deliciously helpless as she serves me. I call the blade 'she', as I find the nomenclature makes her so much more adorable. I make a practice, an order, of shaving Freddie too. How lovely is his perhaps oversized organ when unencumbered by hairs! And when I press my lips to the shiny crimson helmet and put my tongue to the pee-hole, why, it becomes most beautifully sized. A man's male part becomes most truly beautiful when it becomes full and proud at the fingers, the lips or merely the sight of a woman, just as we can become wet at the knowledge of our power, for is not all power female?
It is the same with bottoms (not that all bottoms are female!), bare bottoms of course. A man's naked croup, when I am giving it a good drubbing with cane or whip, I generally call 'she', but a lady's nates, such as Miss Chytte's or Veronica's mother Thalia, or the faithful Tess, I prefer to think of as 'he'. Of course I do not always talk to these bare bums as I give them their proper treatment: the proper treatment is quite demanding enough.
The bared bottom is the loveliest of nature's creations, all the more when it is squirming under willow or ash or yew, for in its movement, in its reddening as of quim petals or mouth or cheeks, it shows the unity and beauty of the body, male or female.
Once, while I was in the process of awarding Tess, my faithful Cornish servant, a caning - some four strokes of a willow on a bum I had kissed many times with both willow and mouth - for a servantly misdemeanour, she asked me why I called her bum 'him' but called Mr Freddie's bum or Mr Peter's, 'she'. I tried to give a rather flustered explanation, until Tess asked me to complete her punishment, then said: 'Perhaps men are just women in disguise, then, Mistress, and women are just men in disguise.'
'Perhaps so, Tess,' I replied, and laid my willow straight on her bare bum, really harder than she had anticipated, for her buttocks clenched quite alarmingly. Then she said that my punishment had certainly taught her a lot of lessons, and smiled.
Tess does not shave herself, thinking that such a thing is against nature. She knows that loving lips buried in a mink as lush as hers are man and woman's true nature indeed. But, once again, I digress ...
Below her knickers, Mademoiselle Clothilde wore stockings, also of thin black rubber, which in other circumstances would be called sensible, but here seemed to me quite stimulating. There is something about black rubber which makes a lady's heart beat at the feeling of her own power. I felt that Clothilde's very clothing dominated me, and as our eyes met, she saw that I enjoyed her domination.
'Port Louis is a long way from here,' she said with a sigh, and I knew that she was looking at my body with an interest more than that of an interrogator, and that she sighed not just because of the distance of Port Louis.
I suggested that she must be very hot in those rubber things of hers, and she awarded me a shy smile, explaining that it was so, but that they were convenient and hygienic for intimate explorations.
'Now that you have completed my intimate exploration, then,' I replied, 'perhaps you would like to make yourself more comfortable?'
She smiled, and then pursed her lips, but as I gazed at the mink hairs that shone on her thighs and belly, she took a deep breath and snapped open the back of her rubber corset, releasing her bare breasts. She opened the corset halfway, then stopped.
'I noticed, Madame de Comynge,' she said, 'that your sex became quite wet as I was performing my intimate investigation. Why, may I ask?'
'Perhaps it is for the same reason that your own sex, mademoiselle, is as wet as mine,' I retorted.
At this boldness, her smile turned to a pout. I suddenly suspected that she was displeased at my calling her mademoiselle, when she, with scrupulous though inaccurate politeness, addressed me as madame.
'Though I am unfettered, mademoiselle,' I said, 'you can see that I am not making any attempt to move. Could it be that your intimate investigation of my person is not over?'
'No, I think it is not over,' she replied. There are always more questions to ask a suspect. Such as, why do you shave your mink bare?'
'And there are always more questions to ask an interrogator,' I said, parting my legs and placing my outstretched fingers on the quim petals which Clothilde had so recently and pleasurably explored with her rubber-gloved fingers. I determined that she should soon explore them again, bare this time, and that I should do the same to her. Thinking of this, I began to rub my wet cunt and damsel, who was standing quite pink and hard to my captor's gaze. Although by now I felt that it was I who was the captor, as sometimes one realises that in administering the cane to a naked bottom, and sometimes, to a willing body trussed by wrists and ankles, one is the joyful captor of one's slave. I asked Clothilde why she did not make herself as comfortable as I was.
'You wish me to be as shameless as yourself, mad-ame?' she said drily.
'In this heat, mademoiselle, it would be advisable. We are women together and, as you have noted, I am a woman of low repute, a brothel-keeper,' - how my own words thrilled me! - 'so there are no secrets from me.'
Her fingers moved towards the waistband of her black panties, and stayed there, toying, as though she was in two minds as to whether to perform the simplest and nicest action any person, man or woman, can perform, that of taking off their knickers!
So I sat up, and, putting my own fingers in her waistband, tugged at the lustrous rubber that corseted her. She did not resist.
'Let us both be comfortable, mademoiselle,' I said, as I slowly stripped the thin fabric from her. She blushed and sighed, but still did not resist, as her bare skin was revealed to my eyes, and to my heart. She was so lovely, and I had been right to call her mademoiselle, for I could sense that she was truly virginal. I did not wish to be cruel to her, so removed my fingers from the waistband of her panties and smiled what I hoped was a friendly smile.
Clothilde ignored my smile and now stripped herself of the rubber panties, placing them neatly beside her folded blue uniform blouse and skirt. Her naked pubis was inches from my lips and I had to restrain, for an instant, the desire to place my mouth and tongue on that lush forest of black curls which adorned her. She had the largest cunt-petals I had ever seen, or imagined, peeping from beneath that curly mink like the lips of a giant, succulent oyster. Her damsel was as stiff as my own, two lovely pearls, and she knew my eyes were on her, for her own eyes told me shyly to taste for myself. I kissed the glistening petals of her cunt and she flinched. At once I withdrew.
'Oh, madame,' she cried. 'Do not stop, please. You see that I am naked for you, I am no longer a police officer, I am yours.'
'I want you,' I replied, and took her by her buttocks to press my lips firmly inside her slick pink quim, with my tongue rapidly finding her throbbing clitoris and darting there for her and my own joy. She knelt beside me to facilitate my access.
'You know so many things,' she moaned, as I tongued her clit, at the same time discreetly directing her own fingers to mine.
'I know what all women know, mademoiselle,' I said. 'We all know these things, deep inside.'
'Ah!' she cried in what I thought was a rather melodramatic fashion. 'You have said deep inside! So, madame, go deep inside!' She took my fingers and moved them inside her quim, which was a hot oily bath of pure pleasure for me, but I wanted to know her motives. Mine were plain enough! Lustful desire, the wish to give and feel love ... but Clothilde, I knew, wanted something more.
My fingers were deep inside her, as I waited for her to explain. But no explanation was really necessary. I had my whole hand inside her quim, I bunched my hand into a fist, and still I could not fill her. She was not a virgin, but as I stroked my fist inside her lovely wet cunt, I knew what she wanted, and when she told me that my own cunt and anus were 'so lovely and tight' and that she would adore to shave her big mink, except that she preferred her 'camouflage', I had an inkling.
'I called you Mademoiselle Clothilde because I thought you a virgin. But you are no virgin.'
'In body, no virgin. In spirit, yes. Please, with your other hand, touch me there.'
She put my fingers first into my own cunt and then placed them directly on her anus bud, and sighed. By now my own juices were flowing so that I applied my lips between her buttocks for only a moment before sliding my fingers into her anal cleft. Their passage was so smooth that I gasped.
'Now you have me in sex and cut.,' Clothilde moaned. 'It is lovely, madame, but you see why I am still called mademoiselle, a virgin. I have had men, many men, but ... alas, I am so big inside! It is impossible for me to give them the pleasure they require. Oh, madame, please help me. I promise your dossier shall be forgotten.'
'If that is a promise,' I said, 'then I agree. You are a silly girl, Clothilde. As for the pleasures men require, they are simpler than you realise, and I know
all about them. There are many men who would find you, with your size, splendid in all respects, the sweetest woman on earth.'
I removed two fingers from Clothilde's quim and began to rub her stiff clit. It was not long before she cried out, softly.
'Are there really such men?' she sobbed with tears of joy.
'There are indeed, Mademoiselle Clothilde,' I answered, 'and I just happen to know a few of them.'
'Then perhaps you would introduce me, madame.'
'There would be certain conditions.'
'Name them, then.'
I named them.
Clothilde
The conditions I named to Clothilde were adequate for my purposes, but not complete: these things never are, and things must always take their proper course. As Governess, I insist upon propriety at all times. My first act was to inform Clothilde that she was quite wicked in not telling me where Port Louis was situated, and in further informing her that as Governess, I had a duty to punish her appropriately. I think that Clothilde's eyes moistened a little as I made her bend over my knee, perched on the edge of my bed of interrogation. Her belly was quite heavy on my thighs as I stroked her. I told her that she knew what was to happen and my stroking of her lovely cleft, which invited the fondest of slaps to her naked bottom, did not make this magnificent policewoman's body refuse. She was perhaps stronger than myself, certainly larger, and certainly in authority. She could have refused the punishment she knew was to come, but did not.
As the first slap of my palm descended on Clothilde's bare bum, she sighed, and her bum squirmed a little; so nicely that I made my second smack firmer, and my third and fourth firmer again. By this time she was making lovely little sighing noises, and I realised both that she was enjoying her chastisement, and that she did not want it to stop. A Governess must always be gracious in all things. My spanking of Clothilde did not stop.
As my hand caressed the woman's naked bottom with sharp slaps, each slap just a little harder, Cloth-ilde's moans and little wriggles became as bright as her smile. I knew that she was enjoying my spanking, had perhaps craved one for a long time. As her bottom became redder and redder, she placed her hands behind her neck and told me that I was to be harder on her and, with each squirm, said that I was not hard enough and that I should renew the force of my beating.
I was in no position to refuse, because the friction of her cunt hairs against my bare thighs, as I spanked her bum, was making my quim wet. My blows became vicious and at each blow Clothilde's bum looked more lovely. Her eyes were dreamy as my bare hand spanked her, her lips moist and red with strange desire. How she wriggled, and how the brush of her mink against my thighs excited me! I wanted her to speak to me, to tell me about herself and, as I flailed her bum with, I must say, a rather practised hand, I debated how to go about persuading her to oblige.
Then I remembered that I am, above all, a businesswoman and that the best way to make a customer understand what she or he wants is to let them realise it. I could have told Clothilde that hers was one of the loveliest bums I had ever reddened, but the best sales talk is no talk at all. As Governess, I have always found that the act of spanking, or of being spanked, is the most profound form of communication. A Governess speaks to her pupil through her hand, or perhaps a whip or supple cane, and a pupil replies with a nicely wriggling bottom. Frequently one finds that both giver and receiver of this tender pain have much in common. How could it be otherwise? Does the fastener of cuffs not share a frisson of sympathy and understanding with the plight of the cuffed?
Thus, I spanked Clothilde's bottom until her gasps of surprised joy turned into words.
'It is not the first time I have endured such a hard fessee,' she whispered. 'I have endured the whip. A fessee is delight compared to the whip.'
I said nothing, but continued her fessee.
'The whip too is a delight in her own way,' Clothilde continued. 'Is that one of your conditions, madame?'
'My main condition, mademoiselle,' I replied, making sure that the accompanying slap really bit, for my hand touched her soft upper thigh, 'is that you shall never know my conditions until I permit you.'
'You are harsh, madame,' she said.
'No harsher than you, Clothilde, my sweet. Here you are an officer of the gendarmerie, while I am a simple English lady.'
'Oh, madame, my sweet English lady, my Governess, please say what you wish, but do not stop. Your palm's strokes on my naked cul are magic to my soul. Please! Can you know the joy of a loving fesseeT
'Yes, Clothilde, actually, I can,' I said.
It was this gentle confidence which caused Clothilde to bare her soul to me, as her magnificent body was bared. So, as she spoke, the force of my beating became lighter, my spanks to her gentler and more subtle, to caress the truth from this proud woman. Each slap to her bottom was now an invitation rather than a punishment. I was still curious as to her origin, for her accent, as she spoke now in French, was certainly not the nasal twang of Marseille.
Clothilde told me first that I might spank her as long as I pleased, for she was accustomed to such treatment, and welcomed it. I thought of the Sapphic Miss Chytte, whose bottom was quite hardened to, and desirous of, the lash. Miss Chytte enjoyed the pain of whipping, as she enjoyed the confinement of a corset or tight panties, because it made her feel wanted and loved; made her feel whole, as a man feels whole when his cock enters the wet cunt of a woman, or has his fesses attended to by her cane! I wondered if Clothilde was the same. And, as I stroked her, she told me something of her story.
Clothilde had not always been an officer of the gendarmerie, far from it. Her beginning in this profession had been as a recipient of the gendarmerie's attentions: as a harlot, or prostitute! Not a common one, though: her favours had been granted on some of the most distinguished gentlemen in Port Louis. Always, she had searched for a gentleman endowed sufficiently to accommodate her in her superb cunt, but, in Port Louis, had never found one. So, to get the money to come to France, where she thought things might be better for her, she had prostituted herself in the best way she knew, which was by taking the whip or the cane. In other words, she became a martinet.
A martinet is a woman who can take a cane on the bare, many times, be paid for it in love or gifts, and enjoy her experience. Clothilde discovered from one Creole gentleman in Port Louis that his greatest pleasure was to beat a lady.
Since my greatest pleasure is to chastise a lady or a gentleman, or indeed to be chastised myself, I could not disapprove. I informed Clothilde that the art of the whore, that of giving pleasure, is the oldest and noblest on earth.
It turned out that, having enjoyed the money she extracted from her gentleman in return for his flogging of her, she actually enjoyed the beating. And from then on, as her buttocks were whipped - usually naked, but often through silken panties, which were meant to be shredded by the whipping - she actually came to her pleasure, or jouissance. Neither this first gentleman, however, nor any of the others, was large enough to pleasure her otherwise, by properly filling her quim. So Clothilde learned that to feel a lady's pleasure, she must take a whipping on the bare from a gentleman, who would reward her with money, and take her jouissance from the cane strokes.
I heartily approve of a gentleman or lady rewarding me with money, so thought Clothilde quite sensible. After all, I had originally seduced my darling Freddie by making him give me shillings just to look at my panties! And to prove myself as Governess, I then made him wear my panties. He looks gorgeous in them! %
Clothilde (my spanking now having turned to a gentle stroking of her inflamed, lovely, bum), said that she found her gentlemen, too, liked her to give them her skirts and knickers to wear whilst she, nude, was whipped by them. There were, of course, some gentlemen who preferred that she wore rubber or leather - very tight things - while she whipped them on the bare. It seemed that the confinement of her clothing, and their helpless nudity, helped them to confide in each other in a mysterious way. There were also gentlemen who enjoyed being robed and adorned as women, but did not wish the love act; there were those who wished to dress as a woman in some simple cotton shift, before flogging Clothilde's willing bare bottom; those who wished to be permitted to wear her finest robe, so that they might be caned by her with the robe drawn high - for the impertinence of wearing it.
Clothilde's move to France was at the insistence of a gendarme, who liked to wear her knickers and petticoats, and thrash her naked bum while wearing them, but thought that, as a gendarme, he should not be obliged to pay. I told her that all men are obliged to pay, and opined that it takes all sorts to make a world, especially if they are paying for it. Clothilde agreed. Ladies can agree on things, while men prefer to fight over them! I remembered Freddie and Peter fighting over me in Wimbledon -1 made them wrestle nude - and when they both had lovely hard cocks, I awarded them both the victory, which was to take me at the same time, in my quim and in my bum-hole. To encourage them to duly pay, men must be given a little treat now and then!
It is always nice to be the one who awards a victory and, as Clothilde told me that her physical grandeur and the size of her lady's place had made her both an object of desire and apprehension to the males of the town, I assured her that she should have no worries here in Marseille, or anywhere else. She said that she had had enough of Marseille, unless the English visitors could satisfy her. I told her that I was an English visitor and would do exactly that.
I removed Clothilde from my lap and spread her on the bed with her thighs wide. Both naked, and both wet in our cunnies, we kissed, and then as I pursed my breast, and tickled Clothilde's quim petals, she said yes, so that I did something so delicious and frightening that I had never done it before. I parted the lips of her cunt and pushed my naked breast fully into her. I fucked Clothilde with my bosom and, as my swollen nipple thrust into her, I buried my lips in her garden of pubic hair and kissed her there, a long and full kiss, with all the tenderness of my tongue.
'You are very tight, mademoiselle,' I said. 'Have you been fucked by a lady's breast before?'
'Oh, no. And, my Governess, you are kind to say that I am tight. And so kind to love me thus. I think you are a heavenly Governess. Your tongue on my demoiselle - my damsel, you would say in your English - is ecstasy to me. Your breast deep inside my sex ... Oh, I can feel your nipple hard against my womb's mouth. I only hope you are getting such pleasure as I am.'
'Pleasure is love, Clothilde,' I answered. 'And I assure you that my pleasure comes from yours. But I tell you, too, that there is more pleasure for you. A little pain too, perhaps.'
'I gladly accept your pain, Governess.'
At that point, my finger was on my own demoiselle, and as I proceeded with my breast-fucking of Cloth-ilde's wettened sex, I knew I was going to spend. My spend came as hers did: a glorious rush of warmth and excitement mingling with the joy of being alive and with another's giving body.
After we had embraced, I ordered Clothilde to escort me to whatever bathroom was in this place, and she smiled, explaining that she had her own cabinet de dames. She suggested we should go together. There was no need to dress for the moment, as the place was down a corridor reserved for her; an intimate corridor where no men entered. Clothilde put her arm around my waist as we ventured through this to her bathroom, which, I discovered, was equipped with all the things a lady requires. There was also a simple commode in the Turkish style, a squatting affair like one Miss Chytte had ordered from Paris, although I thought this particular one had not come from Paris.
'Please, Governess? You permit?' said Clothilde.
'Of course.' I watched Clothilde, as she wanted me to, as she squatted, and then she looked at me as I did the same. Then we used the bidet, laughing a little, kissing, and washing each other's intimate places with soap and towel. The bidet is one of those French inventions, like the Panhard-Levassor, and now I ordered Clothilde to squat upon it, with her thighs well opened.
From the lavabo I fetched a razor, soap, brushes and cream, and then shaved Clothilde's mink until she was as bare as myself. At each gentle caress of the razor her smile grew bigger, and when her pubis was completely nude, she scampered to the mirror with a cry of delight, and stroked herself on her newly bared cunny.
'I am lovely!' she said to me. 'I never knew! Just as the chief of gendarmes in Port Louis never knew he could be happy until I dressed him in my silk nightgown!'
There is more, Officer Clothilde,' I said. 'You will please use your telephone to summon the other prisoners. But first, you and I, Clpthilde, shall fulfil another of my conditions.'
Freddie, Peter Mordevaunt and Mr Rudiger soon arrived, to find that Mademoiselle Clothilde was naked, thighs apart, on the interrogation bed, with her wrists and ankles tied, while I wore her clothes. I felt quite nice in black rubber, with a blue gendarme's uniform over my underwear, and a leather baton in my hand.
I ordered Freddie and Peter to strip bare and show Mademoiselle Clothilde their cocks. I slapped myself with the baton on my rubbered behind, to indicate that for our purposes, these cocks of theirs should soon be stiff.
'I say, Mistress!' said Freddie.
'I say, Mistress!' echoed Peter.
'Do as you are told, men,' I replied. They obeyed, as men are born to do! When they were bare, and I saw their cocks, both knew that the half-stiffness, while exciting in a certain way, to a woman, was not quite the thing.
Mademoiselle Clothilde waited anxiously from her bed and I knew what I had to do.
'Mistress, 1 was promised bouillabaisse!' cried Freddie.
'Me too!' said Peter Mordevaunt. Mr Rudiger said nothing.
'You'll get bouillabaisse,' I said. 'But first you will both bend over and take seven of the best. And then you will be kind to our captor, Mademoiselle Clothilde. Freddie, you first - bend over, touch your toes, and take the cane that is coming to you.' Freddie obeyed like a perfect schoolboy.
After his flogging, Freddie asked if he could bend further, and kiss my toes. I allowed him to do so. Then, after I had caned Peter's bare bum, he asked me if I could take off my rubber panties and allow him to kiss my bum. Naturally, I refused, and ordered him to bend over once more and take a further seven on the bare before Mademoiselle Clothilde was ready for her delight.
My beating of Freddie and Peter had made them hard, as I knew it would, and as I stroked their poor hurt bums, 1 stroked their balls too, so that their cocks would be as proud as Clothilde desired.
It is nice that a beating makes a man har#. I know it, Major Dove knows it. Freddie and Peter know it. After I had made their bottoms quite red with my baton, both young men were fully erect, like proud stallions. The trussed Clothilde's face was pure desire.
'That gentleman first!' she cried. 'No, I mean that one! Oh, I don't know at all, they are both so big!'
Freddie and Peter both dawdled, as men tend to do, so I decided that I should take matters in hand. I took hold of Freddie's stiff cock, and then Peter's, and guided them towards Clothilde's open quim. Both, being perfect gentlemen, offered the other first caress. While they were exchanging politenesses, I saw that Clothilde was full of desire, not for politeness, but for a gentleman's proper caress. So I spurred my young men on with a further few strokes on their bare bums, and told them to do what was wanted. Sometimes, the only way to get a male to do his duty is to apply a cane to his naked bum!
Peter Mordevaunt took her first, kissing her on the mouth as his stiff cock entered her open cunt. He began to fuck her with slow, measured strokes, but I could see that Freddie's hard penis was becoming impatient, so used my baton to spur Peter on. It was a pretty sight to see a man's already red bottom squirm under my lash as I made him fuck.
kSo big!' cried Clothilde. kSir, you must be at least thirty!' (1 think she meant centimetres.)
As I whipped Peter, his fucking grew harder and harder, until Clothilde actually screamed eight or nine times with the force of her orgasm. Peter retired, after kissing her bound hand, with a rather ungen-tlemanly smirk of satisfaction. Then it was Freddie's turn, and he, too, performed with exuberant perfection. His cock was so big and so lovely that I hoped it would never go soft. Nor did it for a long time as he pleasured Clothilde. I watched his taut bum move softly and gently as his cock massaged Clothilde's cunt - her thighs glistening with her love-juice until I was quite overcome with my own excitement, and began to touch myself through the thin black rubber panties.
Clothilde moaned: fcAt least thirty-two. Oh, yes!'
My damsel was stiff and, as I watched Freddie fuck Clothilde, I felt a gorgeous wetness in my cunt and a feeling of love in my belly that was fiery and soft and sweet. 1 was inspired to give a very firm stroke to Freddie's pumping bare bum and, after I had done so, he smiled the most beautiful smile at me, and pressed his lips to Clothilde's nipples, then brought himself and Clothilde to a climax. Their sounds of joy made my fingers quicken; I rubbed my clitty, my own sweet damsel, through the black rubber, to achieve my pleasure. Then I took Peter and Freddie by their balls (now well-drained!) and allowed them to kiss Clothilde as we released her from her bonds. Clothilde likes being kissed everywhere, and Peter and Freddie, being gentlemen, must always oblige a lady, say, Freddie! Can't I ... you know?' It was Mr Rudiger, our captain. He was nude, and had a penis that stood well I don't know the exact height of Mount Everest, but it certainly reminded me of that. Clothilde blinked, and opened her mouth, and placed her fingers on her cunt-petals to open them as wide as she could. Mr Rudiger entered her, and as his vigorous attentions made her glow, reaching another orgasm, she cried: Thirty-three! Perhaps thirty-five! Oh!' I took advantage of the moments of ecstasy enjoyed by Mr Rudiger and Clothilde to ask the gentleman where he was planning his cruise for us; and her where Port Louis actually was.
i thought we might go to Mauritius," said Mr Rudiger. There is this Suez Canal thing that 1 have always wanted to have a go at.'
Clothilde, who was being fucked so tenderly that I thought her whole body a smile, cried out in her pleasure: Tort Louis is the capital of Mauritius.' 'Have they got bouillabaisse there?' asked Peter. fcYes . . Oh yes!' cried Clothilde, her belly and thighs quivering.
"Jolly good,' said Freddie.
'First,' 1 ordered, fcwe shall join the others and have some in Marseille.'
fcYes, Governess,' said Peter, Freddie, Clothilde and Mr Rudiger.
Emily Spanked
The half-moon was bright over the old port of Marseille and the various scents of strong tobacco, absinthe and Grasse perfume were in the air, as Clothilde led us to the restaurant where she assured us that the best bouillabaisse in town was served. The gentlemen of my company were once more looking sprightly in their white suits, after their brief delay by the port gendarmerie. I felt rather wicked in Clothilde's hygienic rubber and excited by the sight of her in my own clothing, which was a little too tight for her. Miss Chytte had on my best corset, which I had granted her for the occasion, and her face was very proud, despite the heat and resultant inconvenience. But I suppose inconvenience is one of the allures of a corset.
At the end of a winding little street we found the Restaurant Maritime, a large room full of deafening chatter, tobacco and clinking glasses, which could not mask the most heavenly fishy smells from the kitchen. We were greeted by a lady in a pale blue dress, who obviously knew Clothilde, as we were at once shown to a large table made vacant for us.
This is splendid," said Freddie, as we sat and were at once brought glasses of absinthe, a drink it seems is de rigueur in the south of France. The poet Mr Oscar Wilde called it the 'glaucous witch", or 'green goddess', or some such. It is certainly green, and turns milky when you add water, and I could not have put it better than Connie Sunday, who took a large Arizona swallow, and opined that it certainly packed a punch. She also said that it was refreshing to find a chow joint where all the servers were women, and well-robed, not like a bunch of stuffy male waiters with their suits and fancy airs.
Clothilde told me that I had wished to sample the best bouillabaisse in Marseille, and that she had decided to make that happen. This restaurant was unusual in that there was no menu and I gathered that they just served bouillabaisse. Fresh hot bread was brought by the lady in the blue dress, along with more absinthe, and jugs of some coarse white wine, of the Var region, and 1 gathered that in this restaurant the customer had very few rights at all. However, rights are not necessary when there is fresh bread and butter on the table and wine flows. I told Freddie to desist from absinthe, as it might not be good for his circulation, and like a good slave he obeyed. The 'servers', as Connie Sunday put it, attended us as good servers should; a flurry of women in long frocks, whether blue or green or even pink, and all of them very fetching so much so that I pondered on the idea of recruiting them to my college in cold, rainy England!
The bouillabaisse arrived. It was served in steaming tureens by the ladies of the establishment, in their various colours, and the radiance of our servants mingled very tastefully with the sumptuous sheen of our dishes of fish stew. Even Tess grunted that it was almost as good as she had got in Newquay.
Almost as good! It was heavenly. Clothilde leant over and told me that the secret to a good dish was a particularly savorous fish called the rascasse, which was only to be found in the waters off Corsica, where the people were ferocious and protective of their ras-casses.
The bouillabaisse was savoured and the lady in blue supervised our eating in the matronly way that only French waitresses possess. She brought us napkins to wipe our mouths of the fish oil.
Our party, fuelled by absinthe, coarse wine and fish stew, soon became animated. When my slave Freddie was ungentlemanly enough to accuse Tess of never having known a napkin before, she drunkenly replied that when she had received a flogging, and a good fucking - fcif you please, sir!' - in the summerhouse in Wimbledon, she had no need of napkins. On hearing this, the lady in blue whispered to me that there were rooms upstairs for those that wanted them.
Clothilde, wearing my dress, as I was wearing hers, smiled a secret smile. I could see that the lady in blue admired me and admired my costume, and Clothilde saw that too. As the lady in blue brought us our next jug of wine, she allowed her hand to stray very briefly to my shoulder, and gave a smile of pure affection.
'Madame is beautifully robed,' she said in her lilting voice.
I thanked her for the compliment, and returned it, saying that she was quite nicely robed herself. At that, I received a winning smile, and a whisper in my ear, to the effect that the service of bouillabaisse had reached its end, but that if madame would like to see an interesting array of frocks and gowns, then she might care to visit the top room on the left of the corridor. I nodded politely, and we drank more wine. Freddie winked at me, Peter Mordevaunt scowled in his Jamaican way, and Tess pouted, while Clothilde pressed her hand on mine.
'Go up there,' she said. 'You will be surprised at what you will find.'
At the same time, the lady in blue gave me a nod from the far end of the restaurant, and I saw that all the other servers in their pretty frocks were smiling at me as well. I must admit that there is nothing to stir a woman's heart so much as the thought of seeing, and trying, a pretty frock. It is so easy to be a man, for a man dresses simply in a uniform and needs not think about it once he is garbed. We women must constantly think of what we wear and how we look.
I took my leave of the company, explaining that it was only for a little while, and ascended the stairs to the top room on the left. The lady in blue opened her door to me, and I was surprised to find her room curiously male: there were pelota bats, pictures of bullrings, matadors, and photographs of what I took to be Corsican desperados.
I was welcomed with a kiss on the cheek, and a hug. The lady in blue was quite lathered in perspiration, and I took out my kerchief to wipe her brow. 1 suppose that being a waitress is fairly tiring, just as it is being the Governess of an establishment for young ladies. The lady in blue introduced herself as
Emily, pronounced, 1 noticed, in the English fashion. She asked me if 1 would like to see her frocks, and 1 agreed warmly to this. A wardrobe of mahogany was opened and I was dazzled by an array of dresses, underthings and corsets that 1 had never thought to see in my life. I could not help but touch them with loving hands, and the garments seemed to respond to my touch, filling me with a strange dizzy feeling of joy that such tender fabrics could make a woman feel whole and loved for her beauty.
Emily excused herself, saying that she must wash, and, as I looked at her clothes, she lifted her blue robe, took down her matching knickers and squatted on the bidet, an admirable invention. I detached my gaze from the tempting array of frocks and observed Emily's bare nates and her very large mink, which was just as tempting as her selection of frocks. She blushed as she washed herself and I could not help but ask if I might do the same.
After Emily had finished her ablutions, I commenced my own, happy that Emily was watching me and feeling now very loving towards her.
'Oh, I must change my dress and underthings now,' she said, it is so hot.' And at that, she lifted her blue dress completely and pulled down her knickers, or panties (as Connie Sunday would say), and stood before me completely undressed. Then, blushing, she brought me a roll of 'hygienic paper' so that I might cleanse myself after my ablutions. 1 thanked her with a smile, wiped my intimate orifices, and said that I should be honoured to try on some of her garments, a proposal she accepted.
Emily was now naked and I watched her searching for another robe. Her eyes were very large and blue, and blue suited her, as her hair was as blonde as my own. Her skin was very pale, unusual for these Mediterranean parts, but her bottom was very large larger even than mine. Her breasts, however, were as small as a man's, and I sensed she was embarrassed by this. But size is not everything and I wished to make Emily feel wanted, so as I stripped to my rubber corset and panties, to try on some of her robes, 1 touched her bare bottom.
She did not flinch, but gave a little sigh. So I touched her bottom again, now with a stroking motion which did not make her blush at all, but made her thrust her fesses at me, as though she wished me to stroke them some more and, perhaps, with something harder than a mere hand.
I tried on a crimson dress, which was quite hot over my rubber things, while Emily robed herself in green knickers and a green frock, but I soon realised that I would prefer to be naked with Emily. I think she understood this, for she quickly disrobed, and knelt before me, her bare bottom high.
fcYou are an English Governess,' she said shyly, i should be honoured if you would govern me. Please tell me that you find my fesses beautiful enough to punish. My breasts are so small and, if you consent to punish me for that, madame, I shall tell you the secret of this place, which is not our cuisine.'
I made Emily rise, and placed my lips on her breasts, which made her pink nipples swell to a most pleasing stiffness. As 1 did that, I caressed her bottom, and then gave her a little slap. Then another. After that I kissed her lips, full and hard, with my own.
She responded by touching me between my thighs, on the rubber knickers I had acquired from Clothilde and then, when I did not object, but gave a little sigh of pleasure of my own, she knelt again and kissed me there, on my panties, while caressing me from behind. After this she kissed my feet, licking my toes with some fervour.
My pleasure, signalled by the wetness of my quim, was becoming too intense for me to tolerate such impudence, and I ordered Emily to bend over my knee.
it is one thing to exchange frocks and underthings,' I said, in as stern a voice as possible. kBut kissing and licking my toes - why, I think it is you who needs a licking, Miss Emily.'
Emily's proud fesses were presented to me in all their white splendour. She spread them so that I had a clear view of her pink cunny and her anus bud, which was quite prominent and high. I could not resist the temptation to tickle her there, which made her squeal and squirm and make little moaning sounds. Nor could I resist the temptation to touch her clitty, then to insert my index finger into her wet quim.
In this position, I began to spank her bare nates. I proceeded gently at first, but as my own excitement grew with her own, and I felt her clitty swell, my spanking became harder. Emily's bottom began to squirm beautifully as my hand reddened her. There is a beauty in spanking or caning a lovely naked bottom, whether a man's or a woman's, and there is a beauty in receiving such treatment oneself; for the touch of hand, whip or cane is an act of love. Freddie understood this when I first birched him on his bare backside, in Cornwall, and Miss Chytte insisted, when I whipped her naked, that it was her greatest pleasure. Major Dove, like his daughter Veronica and his wife Thalia, loves to be caned on the bare. As do I. But sometimes it is not quite enough.
I desisted my spanking and said to Emily that she must tell me this secret about which she was most coy.
'Governess, I have not had enough spanks from your sweet hand,' she said. There are two leather belts in my room. If you tie them together, and give me a sound whipping, then I think I shall be ready to tell you the secret."
I told Emily that she was a veritable minx and would certainly be punished for her cheek. Then, I found the leather belts and knotted them together with the buckles out. Emily stretched herself on the bed with her thighs spread wide and I began to chastise her bare bottom, already reddened by my hand's spanking.
As the cruel lashes of my whip descended upon her naked fesses, the squirmings of her body and cries of pleasure became more intense. My quim was wet at the pleasure of whipping this, lovely, bottom and at the knowledge that she was taking pleasure from my discipline.
'What is the secret?' I asked, as I delivered the tenth stroke. 'Emily, tell me, or I shall flog you without mercy.'
'You are already flogging me, Governess," she replied, 'but with too little mercy. Clothilde knows. Another twenty strokes and I shall tell you.'
I felt that this was insolent, and I was inclined to inflict more, but the sight of that bare bottom squirming so beautifully under my lashes had made me so wet and so loving that I decided to inflict a more exquisite torment on sweet Emily.
I lay down on her bed and instructed her that she was to sit on me. She did not fully understand at first, but when 1 stroked the magnificent orbs of her bare bum, and tickled her in the cleft, then on cunny and damsel, she did. Her smile was not so shy now, as she knew that even a Governess must at some times herself be governed.
Emily was wet in her lovely swollen quim and, at the thought of what was to happen, I myself grew very excited and my inner thighs were moist. Emily positioned herself above my face as I lay on her bed. She moved gently, teasing me in a strange ballet of temptation as she crouched across my breasts, her feet nestling at my armpits, making her naked fesses swirl like two gorgeous crimson moons above my face. I was so wet that I could not help caressing my stiff damsel, my cunny tingling and generous with the juices of my love.
'Please, Emily,' I said. 'Please.'
Emily was now my Governess. She slapped my hand away from my cunny, with a little click of pretend dissatisfaction from her tongue, and took my hands in her own as, finally, she sat on me where I wanted her Emily's bottom caressed my face and her wet cunt was on my lips as she smothered me with joy. I was straddled beneath her, helpless as her bum pressed on me, queening me. I tasted her juices and thought that there was scarcely a greater joy in the world. I felt blissful and serene, under the control of this lady, as I knew my own servants were serene under my guidance. Emily's bare nates and cunt quite crushed me and, as she moved on my face, my tongue found itself artfully placed between the petals of her wet quim. Artfully placed so that I could - nay, had to - lick her stiff damsel. I was unable to speak, but my moans of joy must have given Emily an idea of my pleasure, for now, helpless, I felt firm fingers on my own wet cunny. As I felt pleasure rising in my belly, my legs began to thrash and the more 1 thrashed and moaned under the pressure of Emily's bare bottom, the more assured and tender were her caresses to my damsel. With this woman squatting on my face, I truly felt myself to be in heaven. Gone were the cares of a Governess! I was truly governed.
A queening is something that men like; but a woman likes it too. Oh, to feel completely subdued by the weight of a woman's fesses and to feel that all the cares of this world are softened by the scent of her juice, and the delicious pressure of her bare buttocks and bare cunny, on one's tongue! To know that with the pleasure of being subdued, one is also serving another's pleasure. It is the same when I award the cane or whip to the bottom. I know that as my pleasure increases with the force of my lashes, so does the recipient's.
Emily pleased me, not least because her fingers were in my wet quim, and her thumb was flicking tenderly against my damsel. 1 knew that I should spend soon and, as my tongue licked her own damsel, and I felt her bottom writhing quite hard on my pressed face, I felt that she would spend too. Her juices which cascaded now over my nose and lips were proof of that.
The secret, madame?' said Emily, as her gentle fingers brought me nearer and nearer to my spend, and as my tongue bathed in the juices of her love.
Trapped under the beauty of her bare bum, I could only moan, which she took correctly as an expression of assent. The tingling warmth in my belly was so strong now, that I could not stop myself from wriggling as she frigged my wet cunt, nor from tonguing hers quite without mercy.
i am the only woman in this house,' said Emily, breathing hard as I caressed her, yet with a dreamy quality to her voice.
I did not understand this, but my own feelings were not quite in order at this time, so 1 said: fcMmm?' in a questioning tone.
"All the women here are men,' said Emily. That is, they are men who like to dress as women. In my wardrobe, I keep frocks and knickers and frilly things for them. You may find that strange, madame, but they are no less men for their preference. In fact, they are more manly, because they have discovered the joy and serenity of being a woman. When they put on my frocks and things, why, their manhood becomes quite ... engorged, for ladies. That is why Clothilde is a hopeful visitor here. Is there not something pleasant about a man who is not ashamed to show that he is also a woman?'
I was in no position to answer this, because Emily's hand had brought me to a heavenly plateau of joy, which was increased when, without taking her bare bum from my face, she suddenly bent over and applied her own lips to my cunt and damsel.
%A man,' added Emily, replacing her tongue with her fingers, once more, 'becomes more of a man when he has the courage to adorn himself as a woman, or to be naked under a woman's whip.'
I thought of Mr Rudiger, and knew that this was so. Then, as I was coming to my spend, I thought of Freddie and Peter, and knew that I had chastised them in many ways. I had made Freddie wear my frilly things, as Emily put it, and I had locked his maleness (to curb his lusts) in one of my restrainers. But I realised now, as I sucked the juices from Emily's cunt, that I did not want to restrain Freddie, or Peter, who had stolen a pair of my knickers after 1 had caned him at St Agatha's. I wanted them to be free; free to be women, and greater men for that.
Emily's hand on my quim brought me now to a lovely spend, just as my tongue brought her damsel to a joyful climax. And just as we were embracing on Emily's bed, kissing each other on the lips - our hands still pressed to each other's quim - there was a knock on the door. Before I could tell the intruder to wait, he burst in. It was Freddie, still in his white suit, and looking flustered.
'Oh, Mistress!' he cried, i am so sorry.'
'Never say sorry, Freddie,' I answered. I saw his eyes on Emily's open wardrobe. 'It's just that, well, these women here, why, I've had no luck at all with them. Neither has Peter.'
'Freddie,' I said, still embracing Emily, 'that is because they are not women at all. Do you remember when I first birched you, in Cornwall?'
'Yes, Mistress,' he said, uncomfortably, i do.'
'And I put flowers in your hair? Dressed you in my clothes, as Mr Rudiger dresses, and made you bend over to take a good birching on your bare, then entered you in your bum-hole with a device I had strapped on?'
Freddie smiled. 'Yes, Mistress, I do remember that.'
His eyes were still on Emily's wardrobe.
'Would you like to try something on, Freddie?' I asked and was pleased to see his lovely face blush.
'Well ...' he said.
I rose from the bed. Emily rose too, and together we selected an ensemble for Freddie. The poor lamb was so embarrassed, but when we had stripped him of his male finery, then robed him in a pink gown, with pink knickers underneath, a pink corset to match and pink stockings, the smile on his face made me proud that he seemed so happy. It was late, so Emily and I chose pink nightdresses.
'We are all leaving for Mauritius tomorrow, Freddie,' I said, as the three of us lay on the bed together. Freddie and Emily were in my arms and Emily questioned my use of 'all'.
'Yes,' I said. 'You are coming with us on our voyage. And Freddie, there are lots of birch twigs in Mauritius.'
'I hope I shall taste them, too,' said Emily.
'You shall. Goodnight, sweet ladies,' I said.
HMS Magnificent
There is something most exhilarating about a sea voyage. It is liberating to mind and body, not least from the constraints of society's sometimes oppressive rules. Thus it was, that as Mr Rudiger's ship took us cruising across the calm blue water of the Mediterranean, towards the Suez Canal, our relations on board took on a new, perhaps quaint, but honest turn: it was as though, on the azure paradise of the sea, we were all free to be as we wished.
I was Governess of a college, and now felt myself Governess of a ship! However, I felt a duty to allow my students free rein to be themselves. As the lazy days proceeded, it became apparent that Freddie and Peter were good at diving for our supper, although there were copious supplies on board. Mr Rudiger seemed particularly fond of the products of one Mr Heinz, of Pennsylvania. Freddie and Peter would dive golden and naked into the sea, and emerge, after a sometimes alarming interval, with fish for our supper. Mr Heinz's concoctions accompanied these fish quite admirably.
All of us adapted our clothing to the requirements of hygiene and personal taste. Our lazy days were spent in such thrilling sports as deck quoits and sunbathing, which for those of us who enjoy it, is most enjoyable in a state of complete nudity. Connie and 1 have honey skins, and so bronze easily: Veronica is very alabaster pale, a beautiful English white rose, and thus too much sun was not for her. She sat under a parasol and pouted. I resolved that pouting was against the rules of Swish, the name of our elite group, and that Veronica needed a sound seven on the bare.
In the cooler evenings, 1 delighted in wearing my new, very tight, black rubber stays and knickers, which Miss Chytte, radiantly swathed in one of my most uncomfortable corsets, begged me to lend her.
Clothilde was already brown and did not see why anyone should need to bronze her skin further. But she enjoyed her nudity, and especially enjoyed the sight of Freddie and Peter's glistening members as they emerged from the sea with their prey - fish almost as big as their cocks. I liked that spectacle too. It was lovely to lie on the deck, my thighs spread, and let my fingers caress my damsel, feeling the petals of my quim becoming wetter and wetter, and pretending not to watch the men's cocks. 1 secretly watched them, of course, and felt a mischievous delight as 1 knew they were watching me, and Clothilde too, at our gentle masturbation. 1 liked to watch their shafts stiffen and rise at this expression of our just female power. Their cocks were very big indeed; Clothilde thrills to that, and I thrill to it too. When the men had gone to towel themselves, Clothilde and I would kiss and touch ourselves between the thighs, smiling in the sun, and stroke ourselves very lazily, until we would come to a spend. I knew that my naked Freddie was spying on us from his porthole, and that, whatever he was doing as we women masturbated, he would be well whipped for it!
As we proceeded towards Port Said and the Suez Canal, under a hot sun, most of us spent the day quite naked, playing simple games, or watching Freddie and Peter dive for fish, or just sunbathing.
Connie would be naked except that she insisted on wearing boots, which were ornate affairs of tassled leather, but which she assured me were good for the feet. I remembered how I loved binding and beating Connie in the dungeon at St Agatha's, and seeing her in those long tight boots, I thought to myself that I should repeat her treatment quite soon. I touched her bare bottom, very gently, and she grinned at me.
kDo you think that it's time again, Mistress?' she whispered.
"Very soon, Connie,' I replied. fcWe shall see.'
It was true that I had passed days of our indolent sea life without administering a stern chastisement to my subjects. I began to think of ways in which I could apply a sturdy cane to one or more naked bottoms, and ways, too, in which I might be tied and trussed to have a good ten very tight ones on my own bare. I began to think that Clothilde was perhaps the lady to do it and thought that it might be interesting to wrestle her, naked, on the foredeck, In a friendly spirit, of course. I wanted to let Clothilde vanquish me, then whip me as she sat on me, pinioning me with her lovely bare bum!
Like the pleasure of being at sea, there is a pleasure and serenity in total nudity, which is not exhilarating, but calming. As I lay naked and masturbating on the deck of Mr Rudiger's yacht (he slaving, as it is a man's duty, on his bridge), I felt friendly to all the world.
Freddie and Peter always insisted on dressing for dinner. When Freddie appeared, however, one night, under the moon, my sweet Selene, dressed gorgeously in pink corset, white petticoat and flowing skirt, I realised that he would have no further interest in his snappy yachting blazer.
I looked at Peter's eyes, and saw them envious. 1 whispered to him that he shold robe himself properly, if that was what he wanted, and should go to my cabin, or Emily's, if she permitted she nodded her assent - and make himself a selection of fitting vestments and perfume if he wished.
Peter was gone quite a long time. I do not think men understand, or shall ever understand, how complicated it is to be a woman, until they pretend to be women themselves. We must spend so many hours on our adornment and accoutrements; so many hours shopping for them (which we love), and so many hours choosing which combination of skirt, stockings and petticoats, to wear. How to dress our hair, paint our lips, perfume ourselves - why, it is a wonder we ever get anything done at all! Yet these are joys; and Freddie and Peter had now discovered the joy of womanhood.
Peter emerged from his toilette quite radiant in a blue dress which I recognised as Emily's. She smiled at his blush and he took a deep breath.
i never knew that .. well Mistress, you remember when you caned me for stealing your panties?' i do indeed, Peter,' I said severely, it is just, Mistress, that wearing them made me feel like you and 1 thought it the sweetest feeling on earth. To be a woman. To be you, Mistress.'
I rewarded him for his kind thought with a kiss to his lips and a perhaps naughty finger pressed to his skirt and panties. His cock stiffened to my touch and rose to its full height under his woman's skirts. My hands went to his balls, which were very hard and tight, and then 1 slipped my fingers beneath his corse-lage to feel his nipples, which were as stiff as his cock. 1 saw that Clothilde was eyeing the swelling under Peter's dress with envy and desire.
'Young Peter Mordevaunt," I said, 'you seem to be very naughty. And you know that the punishment for naughtiness is ten of the best.'
i do. Mistress,' he murmured, 'and I shall accept from you what I deserve.'
I smiled and told him to finish his supper, after which he should be taught not to robe himself as a lady, yet continue to be a naughty boy.
'We are just approaching Port Said!' sang Mr Rudiger's voice from the bridge. 'I say, this fish is very good!'
'Eat your fish, gentlemen,' 1 said to Peter and Freddie, in their finery. 'Our captain says it is good.'
Connie wore her boots and nothing else but a fetching white silk shift. Her eyes were bright.
'Are you going to flog Peter?' she asked. 'Lift his skirts and petticoats, and make him take it on the bare?'
I smiled and nodded. When supper was over, and we were all well-filled with garlic-grilled fish (fish is very good for you, as is garlic, which farmers in Cornwall give to cattle by pushing a clove into their anus!), I instructed Peter to go out on deck. All the ship's company were required to witness the punishment. The lights of Port Said glistened off one of our beams as I ordered Peter to bend over the ship's rail and spread his legs. He did so with a moan which was either apprehension or satisfaction. Well, I thought that his bottom was already acquainted with my rod, so I was none the wiser.
I lifted his skirt and petticoat, very carefully so as not to spoil them, and then pulled down his panties to his stocking tops. Then I ordered him to stand on tiptoe, so that his flogging would hurt more, as he would be unable to move his beaten nates to dissipate the pain.
'Yes, Mistress,' he said. 'But please allow me first to kneel and kiss your feet.'
I was barefoot, and having doffed my own robe, was wearing only rubber underthings, so 1 consented. Peter detached himself from the guardrail and knelt before me. I felt his pink young lips on my toes and ankles and became quite giddy with desire. My quim was wet and I could see from the corner of my eye that Freddie and Miss Chytte and Veronica looked enviously at the cane in my hand.
I kicked Peter's lips from my foot, and told him to resume his tiptoed position on the guardrail, assuring him that as he was flogged, he should have a nice view of the port and the ships of our Royal Navy,
How I loved Peter's bottom, as I love Freddie's and
Clothilde's, and Veronica's and Miss Chytte's, and Emily's and Connie's, and Mr Rudiger's! How I love to see them blush and squirm, which is like a kiss to my own lips! The bottom is such a lovely goddess.
Peter's skirts and petticoat were lifted high as I raised my cane to him. But before I could deliver the first stroke, I had to kneel and press, my lips to him; kiss the bare bum I was about to chastise. My pussy was wet and my breath was as tight as my rubber corselage. Now I lost no time. His panties were dawn over his stockings, his bum so delicious and bare, that after giving him the first stroke, I was so wet between my cunt-petals that I did not know if I could continue. But continue I did. I laced young Peter Mordevaunt with a tender fury that had him wriggling against the ship's rail as the lights of Port Said approached. His naked bottom began to glow for me as my cane laced it and such was the wetness in my quim that I thought I should faint. But a Governess does not faint. I gave Peter Mordevaunt ten of the best, ten of the very best indeed, on his bare bum, and he did not cry out once. I loved him, and still love him, for that.
After I had finished my task, Freddie stepped forward. There had always been friendly rivalry between him and Peter.
'He's only got ten, Mistress!' cried Freddie. kWhy, I can do better than that!'
I was quite bewildered as Freddie leant over the guardrail and lifted his own robe, revealing his panties, garter belt and stockings.
'Please, Mistress,' he begged, and I had not the heart to refuse the lamb.
His loveliness was bared for me, beside Peter's, and I laid a dozen hard lashes on him, until I saw that both the men's cocks, with the reddening of their bums, had risen to their full gorgeous heights. This was almost too much for me! But it was not too much for Clothilde, who crept from behind and lifted her own robe, a simple gown in a flowery pattern, under which she was naked. Her intention was clear. She took both men by their balls and held them, squeezing tightly, as her fingers stroked their erect cocks.
Her lips smiled the most beautiful smile as she saw again that these anglais had the power to satisfy her. I watched entranced as Clothilde opened the petals of her quim and began to stroke her stiff clitty as she stroked the red bottoms of the young men under their dresses, while making sure that their panties were still down, leaving their cocks naked. 1 think that all of us watched in rapture as this drama unfolded, except myself, because suddenly other globes of beauty presented themselves for my attentions. They were Clothilde's.
I felt myself obliged, and pleased, to lace her thoroughly. A full twelve on the bare. And, as I delivered the last stroke to Clothilde's magnificent bare bum, 1 touched myself on my rubber knickers, and came to a spend: all knew it, for I cried out.
Clothilde wanted the swollen cocks of Freddie and Peter, and to get them, she simply positioned herself on the guardrail, her thighs wide apart. She leant backwards, bending herself almost double, and holding on to the bottom of the rail, so that the spectacle was quite miraculous: massive thighs, bare feet, and a sumptuous open cunt, the lips so pink and wet and sweet that I should have kissed them myself had not Freddie's cock got there first. I watched his red bum, dress well lifted, as he fucked Clothilde's wet cunt. Then, after Freddie had spent, Peter, his dress lifted quite correctly, embraced the lady in the same vigorous way. Both men cried out a little and gasped as they spent in Clothilde's cunt. It is quite a nice sound for a lady to hear, as it reminds us that men are our slaves and, as they finished, Clothilde's fingers went to her recently pleasured quim-petals. 1 could not resist, but knelt and pressed my own lips there. My tongue was on her engorged clitty, and soon my hand was inside her, feeling the warmth of the lovely place where Freddie and Peter had been. She began to moan and 1 invited her to right her position and tried to help her back on deck. But before I could do so, as I was licking her clitty and tasting the juices of her love, 1 was interrupted by hands which I felt pulling down my rubber knickers. I looked round and saw that it was Freddie, with a rather wicked gleam in his eye, and a cock which was still pleasingly large.
It is very wrong to say that ladies are not interested in the size of a gentleman's sex organ. We are!
Freddie straddled me on the ship's rail and without mercy (I did not want mercy), took me from behind, his massive cock flooding me with love as his fingers caressed my clitty. There was a particular pleasure as I felt his robes brush so delicately against my shoulders and I certainly did not resist his lovely attentions. His cock was so big and the thought that it had just pleasured Clothilde made me feel warm to everyone.
Next, it was Peter who took me, this time in the anus. I loved him for it, and 1 cried out with joy as 1 felt his hands stroking my knickerless bottom, and his hot sperm bathe my most intimate passage. My own hand was on my quim as he fucked me and my belly was all warm and shivery and lovely as I spent with his beautiful big cock inside me. The feeling of that hot cock!
I saw lights! In fact they were the lights of Port Said, coupled with the lights of a dreadnought which had pulled alongside us, preparing also to enter the port. Mr Rudiger sounded his siren; the ship did likewise, and a handsome officer with a bullhorn took to the deck.
'GREETINGS FROM HMS MAGNIFICENT; he cried. 'WELCOME TO PORT SAID. I SEE YOU ARE PREPARING FOR THE DELIGHTS OF THE CITY! CAPTAIN DOVE, R.N., AT YOUR SERVICE!"
Veronica Dove, despite the fact that all she had on was a pair of frilly knickers, rushed to the guardrail and began to wave energetically, so that her white breasts bounced quite gorgeously under the Egyptian moonlight. A crew of matelots aboard HMS Magnificent emerged on deck as if by magic and began to cheer.
Veronica waved and waved.
'Captain Dove?" I asked. Clad scantily myself, I was pleased when the matelots began to cheer at me! Well, a lady likes to be appreciated.
'Yes!' cried Veronica. 'I am sure we are going to have a good time in Port Said. It is my Uncle James."
Pink Panties
Mr Rudiger, who had some acquaintance with the place, informed us solemnly that Port Said was a place of easy virtue and that we must watch our pockets and purses as we went ashore. We were moored for the night, before passing through the Suez Canal, and I found myself curious to see this town of easy virtue. Egypt is nominally an independent country, with a king called Farouk or Mohammed or some such, but is firmly under the protection of Her Majesty's High Commissioner, as the Suez Canal is the route to India, the jewel in our crown. Ships of the Royal Navy come and go as if they own the place, which of course they do.
Our ship moored, and after Mr Rudiger had dispensed an enormous amount of baksheesh, that is, money, to a scallywag called Ahmed, whom he greeted as an old friend, he pronounced our craft secure. He explained that in order to protect oneself from scavengers, thieves and villains, one must pay baksheesh to the most ruthless scavenger, who will fend off the others and, if the baksheesh is sufficient, will not scavenge too much for himself. Mr Rudiger had the prudence to leave ample cigars, food and wine for Ahmed, so that we felt able to go into town and disport ourselves. Ahmed's brother Mahmoud, also liberally awarded with baksheesh, would be our guide and protector through Port Said's exotic streets. At first, Mahmoud tried to sell exotic postcards to Freddie and Peter. The nature of these postcards was enough to make Freddie blush, while Peter simply sneered. 1 looked at them: ladies and gentlemen in all forms of lustful activity, mostly naked, and the postcards all claimed to be published in Paris.
'Napoleon was here a hundred years ago,' said Mahmoud gravely. 'A very great man.'
I thought of dear Mr Izzard, my faithful pharmacist back in Wimbledon, and his cousin Mr Napoleon Bonaparte Izzard (Nobby) my most useful reporter on the Sunday Intelligencer. I looked at Mahmoud's postcards and became really quite excited. Gentlemen and ladies were doing all sorts of things. One daguerrotype showed a lady with her legs spread and what appeared to be a cucumber inserted into her open quim, while a moustachioed gentleman buggered her from the rear! I told Mahmoud that if he took us on a proper tour of the town, and acted well, I would buy the lot.
My gentlemen were dressed in their best white yaching clothes now, while the ladies, including myself, were in black, as Mr Rudiger had explained that since Egypt was a Moslem country, women were expected to be modest. I decided that I had no intention of being modest in this town full of sailors and baksheesh seekers, but still we dressed in demure black frocks that covered our shoulders and ankles. My one concession to gaiety was a white parasol a high conceit since it was a dark night.
I instructed Mahmoud that, inspired by his postcards, he should take us somewhere interesting. He smiled and said we could walk to the place called Happy Street. This sounded exciting to me, so I nodded assent.
Now the first thing one notices in Port Said is the smell, or rather the various smells; some of them sweet and succulent, like the roasting lamb or goat-meat, some of them of the pre-roasted, ambulatory kind, who seem to be nice animals but with no shame as to what smells they leave behind. Of course it would be unladylike to go into further detail. There was the smell of oil, and powerful ships from the harbour, and the wafting aroma of roasting Turkish delight and all sorts of pies and sweetmeats which were sold by the vendors from little stalls on the outskirts of Happy Street. Baksheesh, of course, was demanded at all points, but Mahmoud, happy with the sale of his Parisian postcards to me, was adept at shooing away the hunters of baksheesh and, after I had treated the company to Turkish delight (noticing that an English shilling goes a long way!), we entered Happy Street.
This is way different from Arizona/ said Connie Sunday, still wearing her boots.
it is a bit different from Wimbledon,' said Veronica, rather nervously.
Happy Street seethed with life and made me happy! I realised that in Port Said a woman could never go hungry for anything at all. There were stalls selling yet more food, there were snake charmers and fire-eaters, there were women dressed as men and men dressed as women; Arabs, Greeks, Levantines, and throngs of swaggering sailors of Her Majesty's navy, relishing the delights of this place.
I was particularly taken with one of the fire-eaters, a tall fellow in a jellabah, or Arab robe, because I saw that as he ate his fire, his penis under the robe was at full and glorious height. The naval chaps seemed rather interested in this phenomenon as well! Clothilde certainly noticed, because his penis must have extended to a good twelve inches, and I, too, found the spectacle quite exciting.
I remembered how, as a student at St Agatha's, I used to run naked under the moon, and bring myself to orgasm, enthralled by my nudity and by the chill of the cold air on my naked body. I feel that the moon is a woman, and that I am that woman: pure, cool and white, in charge of the tides that govern this world.
The sun is a man: flaming and hot, spurting fire and energy, but needing, in all cases, a woman, a moon, to reflect him and tame him. And make him behave!
The Greeks realised that the sun has a penis! If you look at it, reflected in a very dark lens, not with the naked eye, you will see a red extrusion from the flaming mass of light, which is like a cock and, like a cock, sometimes it stands high. The Greeks call it the aula and I think that is why they understood the balance between the sun and the moon; the male and female powers.
Of course, the female power is stronger, because, as the astronomers tell us, the sun, like all stars (apparently), will fizzle out one day, or explode, or something. There are a few million years involved in this, so 1 am happy to bask in the sun's rays for my lifetime. The moon, being bare, a naked pure rock, is eternal, as is the female.
Entertained by these thoughts, I allowed myself and my company to be led by Mahmoud into a dark cavernous place full of tinkly music, perfume and the smells of roast lamb. Mahmoud explained we were also to see 'belly dancers'. The clientele, consisted of gentlemen of various nations, along with a fine complement of Her Majesty's matelots. They seemed to have a great appetite for wine and roast lamb (the bones thrown ceremoniously on the floor), and also a great appetite for the belly dancers.
These were women of ample proportion who wore the most delicious spangled costumes: little glittering panties which barely covered their shaven minks, and corselets to cover their large breasts, with lovely little tassles, which whirled as they danced. 1 noticed that from time to time a belly dancer, who had completed her twirlings, was accompanied upstairs by a moustachioed gentleman.
Freddie and Peter were quite enchanted and, as we were served our meal and our drink, I decided that I wished to become a belly dancer. I sipped rough red wine, threw a lamb bone on the floor and anticipated a gay evening.
The floor was well-covered with lamb bones as the merry evening progressed. We had more wine, quite a lot of Turkish delight, and then there was a fiery drink called arak, of which I took one sip and pronounced it too fiery for the rest of my company. Mahmoud took my glass and drained it in one swallow, then grinned at me.
He knew that I was watching the belly dancers, whose writhings became more and more beautiful with every dance. Their bottoms, almost naked under those tantalising spangles, twisted so eloquently, almost as though they were enjoying a sound spanking. I understood that the belly dance illustrated the power of woman, as, by the writhing of her belly, she shows a man that she possesses the power that he cannot have, which is the power to grow new life. A man may only provide the seed of life, but it is the female who creates it. The bottom of a female can speak! Not a language of words but a language of the soul. A man's bottom can speak too, but must be goaded into motion by the application of sharp chastisement. A woman's bottom, naked, is beauty and peace: caned or whipped, she becomes radiant joy.
I suppose that these thoughts were far from the minds of the sturdy matelots of HMS Magnificent, whose eyes were glued to the swirling torsos of the dancers, and who were no doubt imagining the delights of the shaven quims that hid beneath those spangled costumes. Perhaps they also halted at engaging a visit upstairs, for the moustachioed gentleman seemed to have a lot more baksheesh than the English matelot. 1 thought that to leave these sterling chaps unsatisfied would be letting the side down a bit, so I whispered to Emily that she should secure a room for me, and that I should be most delighted to wear one of those spangled costumes. She departed on her errand and came back smiling.
Negotiations had been carried out in the usual oriental way, that is, involving more baksheesh, and shortly, I found myself in a room furnished with the most exquisite rugs, silk drapes and pictures naughtier than those Mahmoud had sold me. They depicted ladies and gentlemen in various stages of dress and undress: engorged members, open cunnies, some lovely silky underthings and, I was pleased to see, some scenes of chastisement.
I was beginning to feel quite at home in Port Said.
The theme of the room was pink and the centrepiece was a lovely four-poster bed with a perfumed pink coverlet. There was a delicate spiced scent about the whole room. Well, it was a whore's bedroom and, not to put too fine a point upon it, I discovered in my early days as Freddie's Governess in Cornwall, that 1 too am a whore. I became a whore not by necessity, for I had my tutorial post at Rakeslit Hall, but by choice and, I think, by mischievous curiosity. I had every man, every respectable, dour Cornish citizen in that village, and got my shilling for it. I think Tess had probably had them all as well but thought it demeaning to ask for shillings. 1 do not: 1 think it businesslike and 1 think that men respect a lady who is businesslike. When shillings and pounds are exchanged as part of a transaction, then a man does not feel obliged to fall in love with one, and one can have a friendly chat as he smiles at the redness of the bottom which 1 have bestowed on him.
On the pink coverlet of the bed lay what 1 had asked from Emily. The aromatic air of the room, and my own excitement, made me feel giddy and girlish. I wanted to do anything and I wanted to do everything. There on the coverlet lay the most gorgeous costume.
There was a pair of pink spangled panties, the spangles glittering like the moon and the whole sky of stars; a corset, also pink; and a silk petticoat to match. To cover my breasts, a silk soutien-gorge, which I believe has now been named a brassiere. This brassiere had golden tassles that hung almost to my belly button. 1 was delighted with my new costume. 1 pressed my new panties to my lips and nose and smel-led the aroma of their previous owner. Then I did the same to my other things and this musky perfume made me so wet, and so excited, that I wanted to emulate her on the dance floor. The panties were perfumed, I thought, by the excitement that she herself felt when dancing almost naked in front of lusting men. The feeling of such power produces copious love-oil in a lady.
I stripped myself and looked in the mirror as 1 tried on my new things. I thought myself the most beautiful dancer in the world although I think the smell of the other lady's perfume had intoxicated me.
Naked, I took a razor from the cabinet, and squatted over the bidet where I made sure that every inch of my body was properly shaven. It feels so wonderful and serene when one touches oneself on a purely shaven mound of Venus! Shorn of our hairs, we women can know our true purity!
Then I sat at the vanity table and applied rouge to my lips, kohl to my eyebrows and treated myself generously to the heady perfume. I noticed that, under the vanity table, there was a selection of very large dildoes of the type that a lady may strap around her waist in order to pleasure a man in his anus. They were very pretty things, with flowered waistbands and, knowing the pleasure of having a stiff cock in my own anus, I could understand why a man loves to have a woman caress him in this way after a sound beating on his bare bottom. How men love that, and how they love to be penetrated to the full, by a loving Mistress, just as we women love to be filled by a well-sized cock. When a lady is being pleasured by a gentleman, she feels a little bit swoony, and does not think of mathematical things, although I think ten inches is about right, but I cannot be sure, because the tenderness of the lips and fingertips, and the love in a man's eyes, are more important.
As I dressed myself, I reflected upon the relation between a loving woman and a loving man, and knew, here in Port Said, as indeed in Wimbledon, that it is power. A man needs to know power because, when fucking a woman, he gives his sacred seed and is in her power. When she feels him in her cunt, she knows that he is powerless.
In the room there were a dozen canes of cedar-wood, which had a perfume and a menace all their own, and 1 took one of these canes, a good four-foot long, with me. As I descended the stairs to begin my belly dance I felt myself the proudest and most daring lady in the world.
I ascended the small stage, to the loud applause of my own company, the matelots from HMS Magnificent and from the various other gentlemen. Upon my arrival on stage the band struck up a tinkling melody, which seemed quite appropriate, for it made me dance in a rather teasing and lascivious way which excited me almost as much as it excited the patrons of the establishment. I could see that the men were quite aroused by my gyrations, as was evident from the swellings in their bell-bottoms or jellabahs.
I began my dance. First, I spun my pink skirt around, and received cheers from the matelots and the moustachioed gentlemen. When I slipped my skirt off to reveal my bare thighs and pink knickers, I discovered a strange but rather lovely thing, which is that when gentlemen see a lady in nothing more than her corset and frilly knickers, they will place pound notes inside the knickers that the lady is wearing. It is very odd, but extraordinarily nice, to have a shaven bare pubis, spangled panties, and some crisp money caressing one's intimate places! The more I danced, the more notes were placed into my panties, and the more applause I received.
There is an intoxication in the dance. As I writhed, my belly and hips squirming in artful simulation of the sexual act, I discovered that a good belly dancer has power of the most lustful and beautiful kind. That is, she has the power to arouse men's desire, but to leave it unfulfilled. I danced more and more lewdly, becoming more and more entranced with the rhythm of my body and with the eyes of the men on me. I sensed my power. I saw my own company looking at me with awe and, as I smiled, I knew that my quim was perfectly wet with excitement.
The art of dancing is frequently that of improvisation and I found that, as the sweat poured from my nearly naked body, and my pleasure increased, so did the lustfulness of my improvisation. I bent over, bent backwards, always with thighs well apart, to great applause as it was plain to see I was wet between my legs. The roll of pound notes in my spangled panties was soaking!
Applause, like the dance, is intoxicating. We women are vain creatures and love to be applauded, and men, bless them, love to applaud our beauty. They also love to bare themselves for our stern pleasure.
The tassles on my brassiere whirled as my body moved faster and faster. I learned that, as 1 was moving my bare belly in and out, I could whirl these tassles in a circular motion, either clockwise or anticlockwise. It was thrilling to discover these new powers in my body. As I performed with greater expertise, I saw that the moustachioed gentlemen were now brandishing white paper: five-pound notes. Each one wanted the privilege of keeping my brassiere. I waved my cedar cane at them, in mock defiance, and the roar of people waving five-pound notes became positively deafening. A lady must always be businesslike and, even in the excitement of the dance, must remember that there are shillings to be had, or, here in Port Said, five-pound notes.
I undid the straps of my spangled brassiere and was well-pleased with the cries of appreciation at the hint of my naked breasts. It is very pleasant to tease men - as pleasant as it is to have five-pound notes thrust into one's panties. By now I had so many that I was uncertain what to do with them. My panties bulged as though I were a male with a hard cock, but I continued with my dance.
The garment that covered my bare breasts filled me with delight, and yet I longed to be rid of it, and show everyone my engorged nipples. I began to caress my teats, and also stroked between my thighs, where the money was . ..
In thus caressing myself, 1 knew suddenly that 1 was quite close to a spend. I remembered that once I had brought my sweet Freddie to a climax (he was tied hand and foot), just by stroking his nipples with my own. Men need to be taught that they are just as sensitive as we are, in their own way. They do not always need to smell of leather and cricket bats. Men, too, can have sensitive nipples.
As I teased my audience with the movements of my body, and felt the delicious sliding of the spangles against my nipples, I knew the true joy of a successful actor, which is to entrance an audience. It is also the joy of a successful businesswoman. I decided to auction myself.
I danced and folded my belly in and out but kept my breasts covered. By pouting and seeming coy, I indicated that the sight of my naked breasts could only be bought by a very generous man, a man whose five-pound notes would have the privilege of residing in my pink panties. The matelots were cheering but a little disconsolate, as I think they were short of paper money.
The music suited me, unclad as I was, as it became more intense according to the rhythm of my dance. I began to love the feeling of the spangled brassiere caressing my nipples as my cunt became wetter, and the gentlemen and matelots knew it. To be a good whore, one must take pleasure in being a whore and, since my time at Rakeslit Hall in Cornwall, I have always been a perfect whore! Naked for those who want me; stern for those who need a caning on the bare - but always loving and truthful. And I like money.
It was this thought that caused me to divest myself of my pink panties. First, however, I revealed my bare breasts, with their stiff nipples, which was appreciated by my audience I thought of them as my audience now and sold my brassiere for twenty pounds to a gentleman of the moustachioed variety, who kissed it and put it under his jellabah, where his cock was pleasantly erect. I think my garment went there, anyway.
Now my breasts were bare and my nipples had grown very large because of the excitement I had from dancing and yes! parading myself. I began to stroke the nipples, not to make them larger than they were, but because every touch of my fingertips kept them at their most tender and joyous state of hardness. The sight of a woman's bare breasts excites men, whereas it is the feel of one's own, or another woman's breasts, which excites women. It is the same with a cock. Freddie's and Peter's - huge things and utterly gorgeous - do look nice in a rather menacing way, but most of all, they feel nice.
As I brandished my cedar cane, I realised I had a slight problem, which was how to carefully store the notes which were already in my wet panties. Perhaps Freddie or Peter could be charged with the task, but then, in the impetus of the dance, I had another idea.
A woman's belly is sacred, the fountain of life, just as a woman's whole body is sacred, and that is the idea of the belly dance. A woman's clothes, too, are sacred, which is why men worship us when properly adorned and perfumed, and why they long to kiss us on our skirts and on our panties, before their lips are permitted to touch the naked quim. A man is sacred too, when properly adorned as a woman, for then he knows his true manhood.
My breasts were bare, and the applause, from the male and female guests, made me almost spend with excitement. Now I was stripped to my pink panties, well-filled with banknotes, and I knew by the roars of the crowd that I should have to be nude for them. The music had gathered volume and I felt so excited that I rubbed my breasts with my cedar cane, taking special care to erect my nipples, then peeled off my panties, pressed them (very wet), to my lips and waved them to tantalise the audience. It was a lovely feeling to slowly roll my panties down my naked thighs, as I love the caress of the silk on my skin. Freddie and Peter were there with my company, but I was so excited by the ecstasy of my dance that without ceasing my sensuous gyrations, I took my roll of banknotes, wound them stiffly into a very tight coil and began to tickle my clitty with their tip. This was very exciting to me and was, I think also exciting to the gentlemen and to the matelots. As I masturbated in front of these men, they offered me more and more money. My panties were over my wrist, but I was not yet ready to give them away, or sell them. My quim was very wet and, to madden these virile individuals still more, I would wipe my soaking cunt with my pink panties, hold them to my nose and lips and smile a beatific smile with my glistening mouth. I was in love with all these men; I was in love with myself and with the heavy flow of my own juices.
I was also in love, as a good lady should be, with my roll of banknotes and, to drive the men in my audience to further ecstasy, 1 continued to masturbate my clitty with the wet paper. The music was driving to a climax, and driving me as well. As bids were called for the privilege of buying my soaked panties, I pressed my roll of banknotes into my wet cunt, as though it were a lovely big penis. I pressed it all the way into myself and held it there, and then, by elastic muscle, I pushed it out and sucked it in. Oriental gentlemen particularly are fond of the manipulations of money.
I was a lady, I was coy: I demurred. I took my roll of money and smiled at the gentlemen, then waved my cedar cane to tell them that like all naughty boys they should behave themselves, or else. This increased their fervour. All men are naughty boys and, when one reminds them of it, they become sweet and loving, and generous.
As I concluded my dance, I thought that a good trick, as well as a safe one, would be to hide my banknotes where nobody could find them, unless I wished. There was a young matelot in the front seat of my audience, who was looking at my naked body with a wistful expression - men do get wistful! - and I told him he should find me an envelope. He smiled at my attention and produced a small paper slip which he said had contained his pay for the last week.
'But I've spent it all, ma'am, except for my last shilling.'
'Where are you from, boy?' I asked.
'From Plaistow, in London,' he said.
'Plaistow to Port Said, and you have only a shilling?
What would you propose to do with your last shilling?"
i ... I should like to buy your pink knickers, ma'am," he said with a blush so lovely that 1 resolved to transfer it to the cheeks of his tight bottom.
'A lady's knickers, for just a shilling, boy?' 1 said to him.
'It is all I have, miss,' he replied.
'You must call me Mistress. Give me your shilling and perhaps - perhaps - you shall have my panties.'
The young matelot from HMS Magnificent handed me a shilling. Still holding my panties away from him, I took his shilling and, with a smile, placed the coin into the lips of my open cunny, where it sat for a time before my fingertip pushed it all the way inside. It was obvious to all, now, that I was very wet. My naked thighs glistened with my oil and both my pussy lips were red and swollen. I took the young matelot by the hand and whispered to him that he was a very cheeky boy to expect a lady's panties for only a shilling and that he should have to be punished for his cheek.
'I expect,' I said, 'that in the Royal Navy, you are accustomed to a touch of the whip for misbehaving.'
'Well, yes, miss, but that is different,' he said.
I touched his erect cock with my cedar cane. 'You have been whipped on your ship?' I asked. 'Naked, as I am going to whip you?'
'Yes, miss,' he stammered. 'On the bare back and in front of the ship's company.'
'Well,' I said, touching his hard cock again, 'I am a Governess, and I am not going to whip you at all. I am going to cane you with cedarwood on your bare bottom. And since you are used to being flogged in front of the ship's company, I take it you shall have no objection to being properly flogged in front of my company. The price of a lady's panties is not just a shilling, my dear. The price of a lady's panties is to submit to her will.'
I had intended to take this pretty young man to my room for his chastisement but, since it seemed that aboard HMS Magnificent the matelots were flogged at the yardarm, or the mainbrace, or something like that, 1 thought it would be suitable to give him his earned treatment in front of his peers.
I ordered him to remove his clothing: his bell-bot-toms and shirt. Then he was to take down his underthings and present me with a bottom suitably bared for chastisement with my cedar cane.
Trembling, he undid his belt.
'Will I have your panties after my whipping, Miss?'
'More impudence!' I said, i was only going to give you a good six but now I think it will be more. Your trousers off, please, and neatly folded. And you shall address me as Mistress.'
'Yes, Mistress,' the young matelot said, with a shy blush as he removed his bell-bottomed trousers, followed by his undergarment.
The spectacle of his nudity caused great delight and humour amongst his fellows, but my delight was different. I looked at his tight bare bottom and knew that I had to redden it as no bottom had ever been reddened before.
He stood, wearing only his naval shirt, and I ordered him to turn round. The band played their music more loudly and I was excited with the punishment 1 was about to inflict on the bare bum of this young matelot. He obeyed my order to turn around and the whole audience gasped in joyous astonishment, apart from his fellow matelots, who cheered and shouted rude things in matelot style.
The young man from Plaistow had a penis so big that I blush to write. Well, it was a penis of a size that perhaps is normal in Plaistow and I resolved to visit this exotic place one day. For the meantime, I could not take my eyes from his enormous member -bigger, even, than Freddie's, or Peter's or Mr Rudiger's. And still only half-erect at the thought of the beating he was to receive from my cedar cane. The state of a man's half-erect penis is very exciting, as it hints at future pleasure.
I ordered my matelot to bend over my knee, to take his flogging on the bare and, being accustomed to taking orders, he obeyed. I pulled his shirt up well over his buttocks, so that my aim would be sharp. Of course 1 knew it would be unpatriotic to damage Royal Navy property.
I felt his cock stiffening as it rested against my bare thighs and 1 knew I was beautiful. 1 raised my cedar cane and delivered a very harsh stroke to his flesh. I was pleased to see him squirm and give a little moan as his bottom reddened. I was also pleased to feel that his cock stiffened measurably as 1 flogged him on his nates.
Measurably! It seemed almost impossible to measure. I wondered if all matelots were thus endowed. As I flogged my young man's buttocks, I noticed that he did not cry out, being, I supposed, used to the treatment. However, he squirmed somewhat and, in order to make my treatment more effective, I took hold of his balls and pressed them to indicate that he should behave and take his punishment. As I squeezed his balls, I found that he smiled, and that his cock rose to its full, and quite enormous, height! 1 saw my company looking with eyes of envy, or perhaps jealousy. Clothilde looked at my sailor's cock, fully erect as I caned him, .with eyes of the purest lust.
'So,' I said, delivering a tenth and very tight stroke to my matelot's delicious squirming bare arse, 'you are from HMS MagnificenfC
'Oh yes, Mistress,' he squealed. 'Oh, how you can hurt!'
'But your prick is hard as an oak tree,' 1 said, lifting my cane and bringing it down to give the sweetest and juiciest lash so far. His bottom was so lovely and his cock so hard, that I tightened my grip on his balls, making him sigh with pleasure.
The room was quiet now, all watching our drama, as I caressed the matelot's bottom with my cane and his balls with my palm. The more I tightened my grip on his balls, the more my cane strokes reddened his nates, the more his prick stiffened, and the more my juice wettened my thighs. At last I could bear my excitement no longer and put my cane down.
'Is it over, Mistress?' he asked. 'That was a very harsh flogging and I think you are a very harsh Mistress. You have made my bum so sore.'
'And having a proper flogging, and a sore bum, makes your penis stand like a tree?' I said. 'I think I shall have to do something about that.'
I put my young matelot to the floor, and knelt, then put my pink panties on his face.
They are yours, now,' I said. 'But these balls and this cock, are mine; At that, 1 placed my lips on the engorged helmet of his cock and began to tongue it. He had not cried out when I had given him his flogging, but he cried now, as my tongue licked his pee-hole. He cried with pleasure and the more I licked his cock, pressed his balls, and took him deeper into my mouth, the more pleasure he cried. His penis, now, must have measured a good twelve inches and, as I sucked her, I felt a little drop of seed bathe my mouth. 1 knew that my whipped matelot was going to spend and my own fingers, as 1 licked his big penis, were on my clitty. I was so wet I could not resist. In full view of my audience, I removed my lips from my friend and placed him so that his large cock was visible to all.
Then, with my matelot's face swaddled in my pink panties, I emptied my quim of the banknotes, and his shilling, and mounted him as though he were a splendid horse. I felt that enormous cock slide so gracefully into my soaking cunt. With my fingertips I flicked his balls and, at each one, he groaned his pleasure. His balls were very tight and I knew that I would soon bring him to a spend. As I rode him, I squeezed his cock, bringing him to a luscious stiffness, and at the same time touched myself on the clitty.
It is gorgeous to make love and be naked in front of an admiring audience. I think all women know this, because all women like being admired. I straddled my sailor and felt his high cock thrust deep into me, right to the neck of my womb. My calves were around his face, still adorned with my pink panties, and 1 loved the feeling of controlling this man as I milked him of his seed. I felt the lovely trembling of his member as he prepared to spend - something a woman always recognises - and I squeezed him harder and harder until I felt the first lovely jet of heat from that enormous cock. Now it was my turn to gasp! The strength of his spend was quite commensurate with the hugeness of his lovely cock! Again and again, a hot jet caressed my womb and I almost fainted with my pleasure. I thought him a good man because, after all, a man's role in this life is to make a woman happy. Possibly, a woman's role is to make a man happy.
After my sailor had spent so beautifully, inside my wet cunt, I gave his cock a little kiss. The sweet lamb was so pleased to have the gift of my pink panties! Now 1 was standing naked and I saw his matelot colleagues staring at my bottom with adoring eyes.
Very slowly and very deliberately, I flexed my cane and touched my bare nipples, rolling my breasts to show how stiff they were. Then, holding my roll of banknotes, I lifted my sailor's lovely big cock and said softly that if anyone was man enough, he could follow me upstairs, where my thighs would be open for a real man; a man who could take six of the best. A man who would kiss my cedar cane and kiss my nipples before entering my wet quim.
I made my exit and ascended to my pink room where I was visited by a succession of crewmen from HMS Magnificent. I demanded a shilling from each, which seemed only fair to me. Each of them was obliged to bend over my knee and receive his due caning on the bare, after which he was permitted to fuck me. I felt glorious with my female power as my womb took the hot seed of these men, my arms around them, as they whimpered in ecstasy like babies at their mother's milk. I know that a woman's greatest power is the power to give pleasure and pain.
I was fucked by at least thirty men, all with lovely huge cocks! Perhaps there is something about the sea air that does it. Each of them had, first, a good bare tanning and each of them enjoyed it. I still cannot count the number of times I spent, in Port Said, as I laced those tight bare bums and bared myself to them. Many of them desired a fucking in the anus with my flowered dildo and I was happy to oblige, loving nothing so much as to see a man squirm with pleasure, his bottom tamed with my cane or his anus filled.
There is joy in being a Governess but there is also joy in complete submission to a man's erect cock; in opening one's thighs to one man after another and feeling him fill one and make one wet, and in taking his seed from him, then rewarding him with a kiss. It is the true power of a woman.
Shillings and five-pound notes flowed. My last visitor, after the matelots had returned to their beer, was strangely familiar to me. He knocked politely on my door and I bade him enter. Thinking my pleasant exertions over, I had put on a pink robe and new panties, and had helped myself to a glass of wine. My new visitor was Captain Dove. He had waited until his crew had departed before coming to seek his own pleasure. He looked just like Major Dove of Knights-bridge Barracks, except that, as a naval officer, he sported a beard.
I was in heaven. To have had so many cocks inside me; to have felt so many jets of hot seed bathe my womb; to have chastised so many willing bare bottoms! And now I was going to chastise and receive the homage of a Captain of Her Majesty's Royal Navy.
I came straight to the point and told him that I knew why he was here and that my time would cost him a shilling. I also told him that my cunt was wet from the attentions of most of his crew, all of them having had their bottoms well tanned for their impertinence.
They have swived you, Mistress?' he asked shyly.
'At least thirty cocks have been in my quim tonight,' I said, with my cane in my hand. 'Do you wish to be the thirty-first?' He nodded, smiling, that he did.
'You are a buttered bun, Mistress,' he said. That is, a woman who has been fucked by other men. It excites me.'
'Well!' I said. 'I have never been so insulted in my life! A buttered bun, indeed. I think that you will remove your uniform, Captain Dove, fold it carefully, and bend yourself over for your chastisement. I do not think six of the best will be quite enough for you, for I think as a captain, you deserve twelve tight ones. And on the bare arse. I want you naked.'
'Yes, Mistress, if you order it,' he replied. He obeyed my instruction and removed his uniform.
'Now bend over and touch your toes,' I said, lifting my cane.
'Will this hurt me, Mistress?' he whispered.
'Very much,' I said, as I lifted the cane. 'And there must be no silly wriggling or flinching, you will take every cut like a man and a captain.'
'Yes, Mistress,' he replied.
I then proceeded to deliver twelve of the hardest cuts 1 have ever dealt to a man's bared nates. He took them without a murmur and I was pleased to see that, like all men, his cock stood at the touch of a woman's whip on the bottom.
There!' I said. 'Your punishment for impudence has been effected, I hope to your satisfaction. You may kiss the cane, then
Then what, Mistress?' he said, rubbing his crimson bottom. 'We must sail for India in the morning and, as I have kissed your cane, please allow me the honour of kissing my Mistress's feet.'
I permitted Captain Dove this privilege. Then I stroked his flogged bottom and tickled his beard. Then I cupped his balls in my hand, so that his penis was as hard and massive as the Rock of Gibraltar. I felt very imperial as I rode him, feeling the glory of another English oak in my soaking wet quim, and the beauty of a man's hot spend inside me.
'We are actually going in our yacht to Mauritius,' I said, as I was cuddling him. Through the Suez Canal.'
'Why,' said Captain Dove, 'that is where we must go. I say, why don't you sail beside us, as we can give you an escort. One must be careful in these parts.'
I touched his cock, which was hard, and kissed it tenderly. The skin was so soft yet the hard male blood flowed beneath. A man's penis is like a woman, with all her beauty and danger. I told my captain that I would gladly sail beside him.
A Swimming Race
The Red Sea is not actually very red, in fact her waters are the clearest azure, but the rocks surrounding her are ochre, so I suppose that is why she is so named. She is a pleasant, if rather busy seaway, because on one side there are the red rocks of Africa, and on the other, the red rocks of Arabia. It was a relief to be free of the Suez Canal. Not at all the glamorous channel that folk think of, but a punishing system of locks and long waits as water rose and fell, and I must say that I felt a little homesick for the dear River Thames at Chertsey, where the locks are much simpler and you are not obliged to deliver baksheesh at all times.
However, it was pleasant for me to have our ship escorted by a dreadnought of Her Majesty's Navy, and to know that I was intimately acquainted with her captain, and with most of his sailors. Once we were out of the Suez, and the vista of the Red Sea opened before us, it was bliss. Our little ship, of course, could not match the power of the dreadnought, and we trailed behind her until Captain Dove slowed and delivered a message by megaphone. He told me that he had to proceed to Aden to refuel and that he would see me there. I had no knowledge of Aden, except that it was part of the Empire, and thought it would be nice to meet the crew of HMS Magnificent again. Captain Dove kept his ship beside ours for a while and it seemed fitting to give him a little present to speed him to Aden.
I ordered my men to stay below decks and my women to follow me. Now, such was the heat that we were all in the habit of being naked except for a sun-hat. We paraded ourselves on deck: Connie, Clothilde, Tess, Veronica, Emily, Miss Chytte and I, all of us nude, and waved to the sailors who were crowded on the deck of the great ship. The Red Sea echoed with cheers which redoubled as, like dancers, we turned round and bent over to show our bottoms. I made all my ladies touch their toes and spread their cheeks quite openly, so as to give my matelots a vision of the joys they had known, and the joys which were to come.
The sirens of the ship were at full blast, and the funnel hooted and smoke rose from her, as HMS Magnificent said farewell, blessed with the sight of women's bared bottoms. Well, one must keep the valiant servants of the Empire happy in every possible way.
Now we were alone on the sea and perfectly free to be naked as our craft glided through the blue water. I permitted Freddie and Peter to re-emerge, and told them that they too could be naked if they wished. But 1 noticed that both of them were in a sulk and would not strip themselves of their sweat-soaked white suits.
fcIt is an order,' I said. fcAnd why are you both pouting and sulking like the naughty girls you are?'
Reluctantly, they both stripped, so that now everyone on our ship, alone in the Red Sea, was as naked as a baby. Except of course for my Captain Rudiger, who, at his bridge wore a fetching silk blouse of navy blue and a white skirt.
I resolved to stop my men sulking and thought that perhaps a good thrashing on the bare would do the trick. But then 1 had another idea. As a Governess, one must always be concerned with education, and here we were in a narrow channel between Asia and Africa, where someone had parted the Red Sea in times gone by, and various armies, of Egypt or Syria or Persia, had fought their battles.
The sky was blue and cloudless. My men were reluctantly naked and 1 told them that as there were not more than a few miles between the two continents, with ourselves at the halfway point, they were to take part in a race. They were to dive with me, all of us nude, and swim, first to Africa, then to Arabia. I warned them that the loser would get the naked thrashing he deserved for sulking and 1 was pleased to see that both their cocks rose slightly as my lips formed the word thrashing. Both men were keen to compete with each other and we three prepared to dive as the others watched. Connie had even decided to take her boots off in this heat and I certainly looked forward to a bathe in the cool water. Freddie and Peter looked sheepishly at each other, knowing that the loser should take a good caning on the bare. 1 told them that they should dive together and they should have a start on me. Peter asked me in his slight Jamaican accent what would be the outcome if I, myself, lost. 1 told him that a Governess does not lose.
Then I ordered them to dive. I watched their bare bodies descend to the water like lovely golden fish and, after I had seen them wriggling away, I dived myself and we swam towards Africa as Mr Rudiger hove to.
The sensation of the cool water on my naked body was blissful - no, more than blissful - because as 1 swam, I had the sight of two naked male bottoms in front of me. Freddie and Peter were both good swimmers but neither of them fast, as they kept their heads above the water, whereas I was able to pace them by diving down and cruising beneath the surface, like a fish. It felt so lovely to be a fish that I did not wish to come out of the water at all. My breasts and cunny were caressed by seaweeds and little shoals of darting fish and I felt as though I were one of them, a shark, perhaps, pursuing my two gorgeous naked lovers; the pale fish that were my prey.
We swam for perhaps an hour under the hot sun and, as we approached a barren rocky beach on the red shore of Africa, I dived deep and swam fast, rapidly overtaking my men. I swam under them and turned on my back, flipping myself like a dolphin, so that I had a lovely view of their cocks, which the pressure of the sea had made completely stiff. I had read about this in a rather naughty Indian book, published in English, in Paris. It seems that when a man is naked in the sea, the Great Woman, he can come to a spend just by the motion of the water of life against his stiff penis. I wondered if this was so, though I did not doubt it.
I watched both my men as they flailed in the water, no doubt wondering where I was, and not realising that I was beneath them. I knew I could swim faster than they (1 am an Aquarian, after all), so was content to paddle to see if my naughty Indian book was correct. I thought that it must be lovely to have a man's cock and be able to spend in the sea as though, by giving one's seed, one is loving the whole world.
As we got nearer the shore of Africa, I surfaced briefly for air, then became submarine once more. The men did not see their Governess, as they were too busy racing each other to be first on shore. I became annoyed at this as I thought it impolite for a gentleman to wish to precede a lady, even in a race. However, as I kept pace with them, the sight of those beautiful stiff cocks made me so wet that my warm juices mingled with the cool sea.
Suspended in the sea, my bath of womanhood, and holding my breath, I reached up with both hands, and clasped both men's balls. The effect was electric, as their bodies jumped in surprise and, as the pressure of my fingers on their naked flesh became more intense, I was treated to the joyous spectacle of two generous cocks releasing the contents of their balls in a lovely white stream, into the sea, and slowly cascading on to my mouth and breasts. I rubbed their mingled seeds on my body and, when they had finished spending, I released them and darted forward, still underwater, to beat them to the African shore.
When they arrived, having lost some of the urge for competition, I was standing with my hands on my hips, waiting for them. I told them that if they wished to prove themselves as swimmers they would have to do a lot better, if, that is, they wished to escape punishment. I looked at their limp cocks and told them that I knew their poor performance was due to the emission of seed in the seawater and that there was no point in denying it.
'Mistress!' cried Freddie, i think a shark had us by the balls!' I love Freddie for his silliness.
'And why would that make you spend?' 1 said scornfully.
it was probably a lady shark, Mistress,' said Peter with his customary slyness. 'Lady sharks are good at making a man spend and having him tight by the balls.'
I detected insolence. The three of us were standing wet and nude on the deserted beach of scorched rock, and I said that, since my gentlemen had had the impudence to spend in the Red Sea, they would be excused the swim over to Asia, as they were probably weaklings by now. But they would have to be punished for their impudence in spending their seed without me.
I ordered Freddie and Peter to search around the few scrubby olive trees next to the beach and fetch suitable branches for their chastisement. I felt myself the most beautiful woman in the world. I had two naked males who were doing my bidding, fetching rods for their own chastisement, coming to me for a nude thrashing.
Both Freddie and Peter returned from the top of the beach bearing rods. Each carried a branch quite fearsome in length, perhaps five feet or more. They knelt and presented me with their finds and I scolded them, telling them to get up at once. I had found some seaweed on the seashore and 1 squeezed the oil from the green strands to anoint the bottoms of my men, explaining that when they had received their punishment the oil would be applied again, to soothe their pain. Both men thanked me.
As 1 rubbed in the unguent their pricks became hard again. A lady's hand on a man's bottom always makes him pleasing to her. Peter asked me how many he was going to take on his oiled bum and Freddie asked the same. The two canes were in my hands but suddenly I had an idea, perhaps lustful, perhaps lazy. At any rate it would save me some work.
'Both of you have earned ten on the bare,' 1 said, handing Freddie and Peter their canes. 'But 1 wish to rest and I shall watch you as you each bend over and deal a good ten to each other. You have both been at school and you both understand.'
'Mistress!' cried Freddie.
'Mistress!' repeated Peter.
'That is an order,' I replied. 'Ten, now, and tight. Freddie, you shall be the first to bend over. Touch your toes, please, and do not squeal like the girl you are.'
'Mistress, I am not a girl,' said Freddie, as he bent over.
I told him that he was a girl and that was why I loved him; and that I was going to enjoy the delicious spectacle of two naked young men caning each other.
Peter said wickedly that this girl must have her bottom well tanned. I told him to go ahead. He did: ten on the bare, and Freddie, touching his toes on that African beach, made not a sound as I watched the branch redden him from Peter's hand.
At St Agatha's not long before, I had made my two rival suitors wrestle naked for my favours, chaining their balls together so that they could not flinch from each other. I had pleasured myself by joyful masturbation as I watched the men fight over me, their cocks stiff as trees. Now, naked and wet both from the sea and from the sea which was my cunt, I did the same.
When Freddie had taken his flogging (I don't know if it really hurt very much, as it was only with a single dry branch), Peter handed Freddie the cane and bent over in his turn, his lovely golden bottom shining in the sunlight. He said fiercely that he would not be content with a measly ten but could take a full dozen, as hard as Freddie liked, and that Freddie was nothing but a big girl.
My big girl had powerful arms and, as his cane lashed the bare bum of my lovely Peter, touching his toes as ordered, I could not help myself from stroking my wet quim and stiff clitty until, as Peter took his full dozen, I sighed in a lovely spend. The sight of two naked men fighting, or chastising each other, could not but make me spend in the most intense womanly excitement, for it is the greatest thrill to have men in one's power and also the greatest blessing to the male.
When both chastisements were complete, I took more oil and made both men lie down as I rubbed the unguent into their crimson buttocks which, I was pleased to see, stiffened their cocks again. The sun, the air, the sea and the joy of my female power, made me lustful.
'Well, my proud gentlemen,' I said. 'You have given your seed to the Red Sea, and don't deny it, but I think now you are obliged to give it to my sea, for my cunny is very wet at the sight of your two flogged bottoms and two stiff pricks. Peter shall go first, since he took a good dozen.'
This made Freddie glower, which I loved. As he watched me lie down on the bare rock, I spread my thighs then stretched my legs, so that my ankles were touching my neck. In this position, I received Peter's huge cock into my cunny and, as he fucked me, my fingers touched my clitty once more. My belly heaved and I spent almost immediately in a glorious spasm, my pleasure redoubled as I felt Peter's hot seed wash the neck of my womb, and I held him in my arms as he moaned in the agony of his pleasure. After his orgasm fcthe little death' as the French call it a man is a kitten, or a little baby, and must be cuddled and kissed.
Freddie, however, announced that after all this kissing and cuddling, it was his turn now, and sneered at Peter that it was he who had the bigger cock. I agreed that he should have his turn and, rather brutally, he turned me over so that my breasts were pressed against the hot rock of the beach. He then asked my permission to take me in the style of a proper seafarer. I knew he meant to take me in the anus and, without a word, I lifted my buttocks and spread the cheeks so that he could have a nice view of my anus bud. To be fucked in the anus is to experience the joy of utter naughtiness and utter submission, which are really the same thing.
I had schooled Freddie well, for he knew just how delicately a gentleman's cock must enter a lady's anus. A tickling at the bud, a very slight entry, as though it were an exploration of an uncharted territory; the cheeks pulled apart, gently but firmly, and then the helmet of the cock probes more deeply. Then suddenly there is the glorious moment when the cock finds its way and dives all the way to the lady's belly. It is quite heavenly and, as Freddie's seed came hot from his lovely huge cock, my delicate fingers brought me to another spend. 1 was in heaven!
I instructed my gentlemen, my slaves, that we should swim back to our ship, where Mr Rudiger would no doubt be worrying about us. But first they were to collect more branches and carry them as they returned. Freddie and Peter duly completed their task and launched themselves into the water with armfuls of branches. As I prepared to follow them I said sternly that it was still a race and that the last person back to the ship would get what for and pay a forfeit.
I set myself to a steady swimming pace, watching my slaves gliding before me. I made no move to overtake them. Eventually we arrived back at our maritime home and were cheered by the naked ladies sunning themselves on deck. I was the last to arrive and hoisted myself dripping wet to the guardrail. I had lost the race, to my men's satisfaction, and I had lost it on purpose.
The loser of the race must take a good lacing,' I said cooly. That is our agreement. Slacking, whether swimming or at study, must be firmly punished.'
Freddie looked puzzled but nodded in agreement. Miss Chytte, naked as I was, looked at me with deep eyes and smiled as she realised what I intended for myself. She said that since we were all sailors now, I should know that there was only one way for sailors to receive chastisement. I nodded humbly for 1 knew that at this moment - it comes to us all - I craved chastisement.
Aided by Clothilde and Veronica, Miss Chytte led me to the mast and tied me tightly to her, by ropes around my waist, with my arms tied high by the wrists, and my legs splayed wide and tied to buckles on the deck. In this position I was helpless as I paid forfeit.
Miss Chytte, expert in these matters, took charge of the proceedings as I hoped she would. She took the wet branches from my men and allowed me to watch as she bound nine of them together, to make a whip, and another nine to make a second. One quirt she handed to Veronica, and one she kept.
"Mistress,' she said, 'with your permission, I shall flog you with the cat-o'-nine-tails. It is traditional at sea.'
I told her, with my heart and belly fluttering in anticipation, that she had my permission. As a Governess must be prepared to inflict punishment, she must also accept the lash when she has erred, or lost a forfeit.
I was whipped naked at the mainmast before the whole ship's company. From Veronica I received a dozen lashes with the cat-o'-nine-tails on my back and at the same time another dozen from Miss Chytte on my squirming buttocks. Squirming! The pain was dreadful and beautiful and I could not help but squirm. I writhed and shivered and wondered if this was how my men felt when I birched them. But I had lost a race and knew that I deserved punishment. And a harsh one! To be flogged, naked, by two strong women at once, on back and nates, is pain.
There was a glory in my punishment though. As my eyes watered, my throat clenched and my body wriggled under my cuts, I looked at the setting sun over the sea and felt myself to be a man: a sailor of the olden days, flogged at the yardarm or mainmast, alone with his pain. And with him, his only companion in that pain, the woman who is the sea, his Mistress, his lover, his balm.
Finally, when Veronica and Miss Chytte cut me down and both kissed me in a tender embrace, I whispered to them that it was lovely to be a man.
'Mistress, it is also lovely to be a woman,' said Miss Chytte. 1 looked up at Mr Rudiger in his women's clothes and ordered him to proceed to Aden forthwith. I smiled, for I felt so happy to have taken my punishment like a man.
Wrestling Naked
There is a new cult in Germany known as FKK or Frei Koerper Kultur - Free Body Culture - which in England 1 suppose we would call, more simply, Nudism.
It is a thing I heartily approve of, for while a lady loves to dress in silks and satins, in tight panties and corsets, even in tight black rubber underthings, it is also a great pleasure to be naked, for then one can be free of the cares that clothing always gives.
One is not obliged to worry about straps and garters or about whether one's petticoat is showing or one's silk stockings are laddered. It is so lovely to be nude and forget these things for a while. So, on our ship in the heat of the Red Sea, we all became nudists.
All of us became quite brown from the sun's rays and I felt that my moon goddess Selene had been replaced by the sun god, Apollo, who made me feel like a male. A male is naked but a woman is always robed. On our ship, it was the men who were robed and the women who smiled at the pleasure of our nudity, and at the pleasure we had from robing our menfolk; our slaves.
There were times when I would summon Freddie or Peter to my cabin, in the sultry night, having first ordered Clothilde to ensure that my slave was correctly attired. The man would arrive, deliciously dressed in a long gown, which was usually pink, as men seem to have a penchant for that colour. I loved to kneel, lift my man's skirts and petticoats and kiss him on his frilly knickers, feeling my power as he grew hard at the caress of my lips, and listening to his sighs in that soft Arabian night. When the cock was properly stiffened, the knickers would be pulled down and the lightest of spankings administered to a lovely clenched bare bottom. That would ensure that the cock I desired would stay firm and enter me as, naked, I held my man's skirts up and instructed him to enter my wet cunny. It is true that dressing a man properly - that is as a woman makes him more of a man.
As we slowly passed down the Red Sea, a certain indolent languor took us. We had to go to Aden, not just to revisit the crew of the HMS Magnificent, but because we needed also to take supplies on board. We had enough dried fish for the moment though, and found that, every now and then, a boat full of Arab gentlemen would emerge from the Arabian or Yemeni side of the sea to offer us fruit and vegetables. Of course, it was not seemly to show ourselves naked at such a time, and the Arabs are keen on dealing with men only, feeling that ladies are a threat to their purity, so I deputised Freddie and Peter to conduct the negotiations and dispense the baksheesh for our fresh produce. Mr Rudiger realised that he should sport his male clothing.
The Yemen is well provided with tomatoes and I am very fond of tomatoes. With a little salt and a dash of olive oil they are the most wonderful fruit. A salted tomato, like the apple of knowledge, is the fruit of life.
Freddie negotiated admirably with the gentlemen from the Arab boats, called dhows, and when we were plentifully stocked with tomatoes, cucumbers and salt (the Arab, it seems, takes salt very seriously), we feasted on these, knowing that there were still two days before we should reach Aden. A salted tomato perks a lady up and rescues her from the delicious indolence of the sun, so 1 decided that we should pass our time in a wrestling tournament, and that all, even sulky Cornish Tess, should have to participate. Already I knew that Freddie and Peter were strong wrestlers, so they should have a handicap, which was that they must not wrestle nude, but wear their proper clothes, their dresses and frilly knickers. We women would compete as the ancient Greeks did, quite naked. I ordered Miss Chytte to draw up a list of seeds and rounds, and said that there was a prize for whomsoever should win the tournament, and that I had a system of seeding worked out.
Everyone was quite excited by this promise of a contest. A contest does, after all, pass the time most agreeably. I have always been fond of wrestling, the no-holds-barred variety, since my naked bouts with Mrs Turnpike, the wife of the lascivious vicar back in Cornwall. As we wrestled, pretending to be Greek goddesses fighting for the affections of the god Eros (admirably modelled by my naked and wonderfully stiff Freddie), the Rev Turnpike would photograph us. He called it a classical tableau, although our wrestling was, perhaps, less than classical. When two women fight, they enter into the spirit of the thing, without the sense of fair play that men possess.
The wrestling was to take place on the forward deck and the first match was between Emily and Clothilde. Every woman had to be fully shaven. After inspecting them to see that their legs, arms and quims were properly bare, 1 oiled their bodies before they began to fight. They grinned as my hands applied the oil to their breasts, to their bottoms and to their cun-nies as well. To have a slippery bare body makes wrestling an art.
Clothilde had the advantage of height and weight over Emily but the smaller woman was more wiry and, 1 thought, perhaps more dangerous. I ordered Freddie to serve me with three tomatoes, carved and well-salted, as I settled down in my deckchair to watch the contest. I felt quite judicial as I studied my tournament roster.
The match between Clothilde and Emily gave me every satisfaction as 1 reclined, as naked as my fighters, under my parasol. Neither lady had, as far as 1 knew, any training in Graeco-Roman wrestling, but what they lacked in art they made up for with ferocity. Emily was the aggressor, stunning me with the force of her first kick between Clothilde's thighs, which felled the taller woman, so that Emily was able to fall on her prone body and pinion her as Clothilde wriggled helplessly. Emily delivered quite cruel squeezes to Clothilde's breasts, pinching her nipples and then holding her arms wide as she kept her knee pressed tightly, quivering in a circular motion, against her opponent's quim. I noticed, with mounting excitement in my own belly, that Clothilde's nipples were standing beautifully stiff as she received this pummelling on her sex. The point of oiled bodies in naked wrestling, the Graeco-Roman way, is that art and dexterity must be paramount, as opposed to sheer brute force, because the opponent's body is difficult to grip when oiled. However, sometimes when two women are grappling, sheer brute force comes into play. I lay on my deckchair and watched. My quim was becoming increasingly wet as my excitement grew and 1 realised that Clothilde was allowing herself, indeed wanted herself, to be beaten. From time to time I, as referee, had to call instructions to limit the brutality - for example there was to be no scratching or head-punching - but Emily was a vixen, and quite merciless. The taller Clothilde could not, or would not, resist as Emily twisted and bit her breasts and neck, and rhythmically pushed her knee into Clothilde's spread cunny, which I thought was probably most painful.
Emily cried for submission but Clothilde shook her head, writhing in pain, whether real or simulated 1 could not tell, under Emily's attack. She would not submit because she was enjoying her treatment. At last Emily removed her body from Clothilde's and simply fastened her lips on Clothilde's toes and began to bite and lick them very gently.
Clothilde lay on the deck, moaning now, not in pain but in pleasure. And, as she moved her body gently, with Emily's lips on her feet, her hand clutched her clitty and her fingers began to stroke. My own quim was quite wet and I allowed my own fingers to stray briefly to my stiff damsel. At last, Clothilde howled out loud, which startled all my other contestants, but I understood that she had brought herself to a spend and, when she rose to embrace Emily, she announced proudly that Emily had won and that she was pleased to submit.
The next contest was between Connie and Veronica. It was conducted with true Arizonian tenacity on Connie's side and languid but cruel English beauty on Veronica's. While Connie punched and shouted, Veronica was able to dodge her blows and sometimes get her in an arm-lock, which made Connie whimper in protest. It seemed that Connie's fierce punching to Veronica's breasts and cunny was actually wearing her out, for as Connie dealt a fierce blow to Veronica's quim, my English rose easily got hold of the American's hand and flipped her on to her belly on the ship's deck. Then she straddled her, clutching her back with her thighs tightly clenched. At that, Veronica announced that Connie, as a member of Swish, was going to get what she deserved, until she submitted, and then proceeded to spank her.
Connie's bare bottom squirmed quite beautifully as Veronica's expert hand fell on her with harder and harder slaps. Connie looked at me with misty eyes and begged me to say that this was not in the rules of wrestling but I was obliged to tell Connie that it was. And to be honest the spectacle made me so wet that I was now quite open in tickling my own clitty.
As I watched Veronica, the taller woman, straddle Connie, and administer the soundest of spankings to her bare bum, Connie's wriggles were a joy to behold. I admired the gradual crimson that suffused her lovely bottom under Veronica's severe lacing and I counted that Connie must have taken thirty hard slaps until she stopped protesting and settled to take her punishment. At each slap, Veronica demanded that Connie should submit, and at each slap, Connie shook her head to say no. Then Connie smiled at me and mouthed that she would submit when she was ready. She knew that my fingers were busy on my stiff damsel and soon her own fingers caressed herself as Veronica sat on her delivering her fierce spanking.
Connie's wriggling bottom was now moving with joy and I saw she had a new technique at wrestling. It was a technique of wearing out one's opponent. There was bliss on Connie's face as her friend spanked her; but the harder Veronica spanked the more Connie smiled. Her bottom was as red as the rocks of the Red Sea and now, as Veronica, crosser and crosser, made her spanks more severe than ever, Connie smiled at me, knowing that I knew she loved to take it. How the sweet lady had loved to be trussed and whipped in my dungeon at St Agatha's! A mere spanking was pure pleasure.
It was not pleasure for my darling Veronica. With every slap to Connie's bare bum she grew more exasperated and cried that she should submit at once. Connie moaned with pleasure each time that she was spanked. I had begun to count the number of slaps she took but, after 84 or 85, I lost track. I think Connie must have taken at least 150 spanks, so that her bottom was glowing like the setting sun, and still she would not submit. By this time Veronica was exhausted and Connie's smile was so wide and her lips so red that I knew her submission to Veronica's spanking had brought her a great innermost joy.
Her joy was greater when, as the exhausted Veronica paused to mop her brow, Connie effortlessly escaped from her thighs' embrace, and took hold of Veronica, reversing their positions so that now it was Connie who straddled Veronica. Veronica was belly-up, though, and Connie held her breasts between her thighs. Then, with one hand, she touched Veronica's quim, inserting three, then four of her fingers deep inside, and held her there.
'So, Miss Veronica,' said Connie softly. 'You like to spank? I guess you won't mind a little spanking yourself and when you've had enough you may submit and I shall be the winner.'
'Never!' hissed Veronica, i am Mistress of Swish, Connie, and you are my underling.'
i think it is you who are now my underling, Miss Veronica, since I am sitting on you and, having received a very sound spanking from you, which I must admit I enjoyed, I feel it only proper to give you the same in return.'
'And how can you spank me when my back is on the deck, and my bum well-protected, you American minx?' said Veronica with a sneer.
'Mistress of Swish, there are other places where a spanking may be administered,' replied Connie. 'I propose to spank your breasts, these large, lovely white globes that I have trapped between my thighs. Is that in the rules of wrestling, my Governess?'
Veronica looked at me with pleading eyes and I had to nod that indeed it was. If Connie had taken so many spanks on her nates, I thought it fair that her opponent now pinioned, should receive something of the same. So I nodded to Connie that her punishment of Veronica was in order.
With a very sly smile on her lips, she placed her palms on Veronica's white breasts and began to stroke them, making sure that her fingers caressed the big strawberry nipples that 1 loved so much.
Tm going to spank you on your bosoms. Miss,' said Connie, hissing. Tm going to spank them so hard they will really hurt for days. My Governess has said it's in the rules of wrestling, so you can't complain.'
'No, please,' cried Veronica. 'Please, Governess, stop her! It cannot be in the rules of Swish! The bum, yes. You know I can take it on my bum, Governess ~ but my breasts? Connie is cruel to me.'
I was curious to see what was to happen and said that if Veronica wished to escape from Connie's grasp she should wrestle like a proper lady. She groaned and tried to escape from Connie's embrace but Connie's thighs were too strong for her. Veronica lay pinioned to the deck as Connie began her breast-spanking. She had one hand holding Veronica tightly by the quim, with four fingers inside her while her thumb caressed my darling's damsel, and now Veronica, moaning with pleasure and dread of what was to come, felt Connie's hand begin to spank her naked breasts.
Connie's spanking entailed taking each of Veronica's engorged nipples in turn, with her free hand, and stroking and squeezing it between finger and thumb. She rubbed Veronica's full nipples and, at the same time, pressed her hand firmly into her cunt until Veronica was squirming with pleasure. Connie still had her in the vicious grip of her muscled thighs and, as she stroked Veronica's nipples, she said softly that there was more than one way to get a breast-spanking and that Veronica was to take hers in the harshest way possible. So saying, she shifted herself on top of her opponent, and squatted with her quim directly over Veronica's erect nipples. With one deft hand, Connie took hold of Veronica's right breast and opened her own cunt wide. Then she squeezed the breast until the nipple stood out like a hard plum, and lowered herself so that Veronica's breast entered Connie's cunt, with the nipple touching her damsel. Connie began to thrust her whole hand quite vigorously in and out of Veronica's cunt, while her own sex embraced the woman's naked breast, the engorged nipple firmly massaging Connie's clitty. Connie's hand moved Veronica's lovely breast flesh against her pink sex-petals as Veronica moaned in the joy of her submission.
'You give in?' said Connie.
fcNo, no, Connie, I shall never give in,' sighed Veronica. 'Not unless you stop - and please do not stop.'
By this time I was quite openly masturbating myself, and I did not want their luscious spectacle to stop, but I knew that it was time for another match. Miss Chytte versus Tess.
I called to my contestants that one of them should submit. Veronica's breast in her cunny brought Connie to her own spend. The accusations of who was to submit continued until I had brought myself to my plateau of joy, watched by my envious slaves, and at that point I ordered Freddie in his pink dress to mop the love-oil from my bare thighs and called the match a draw.
Both Connie and Veronica, as they kissed at the conclusion of their bout, protested that the other had submitted but I declared that the next contest should commence.
Tess sulked as usual, regarding it as yet another task in her maid's life, while Miss Chytte was eager for a proper fight. She had equipped herself with an olive branch and asked me if that was permitted in the rules of Graeco-Roman wrestling.
i do believe it is, Miss Chytte,' I answered.
Tess looked surly, as usual, and said that it was not fair that she should be without the same weapon, if that was what these Graeco-Romans were fond of (although in Padstow a simple English oak branch was enough to give a geezer a proper thrashing). I explained that we were not in Padstow and that an olive branch should have to suffice.
Tess was nude but Miss Chytte insisted on wearing one of my tightest corsets: a yellow one which left her breasts pressed high and her buttocks bared.
Tess, her bare breasts swinging quite deliciously, lost no time in delivering a stinging blow to Miss Chytte's ample bottom. Miss Chytte responded with a swing of her cane which landed squarely across Tess's belly and made her squeal. I was a little worried and told the ladies firmly that this was supposed to be a wrestling match and thus there should be some actual wrestling of the nude body involved. A lady's bare body must, at some point, touch another's. The use of a branch to flog was a welcome extra but not the main aim of the operation which is respect, domination and love. But the two ladies continued to keep their distance, preferring to exchange lashes rather than having a proper wrestle. I was cross.
Tess complained that she was not allowed as big a branch as Miss Chytte, because she was just a Cornish girl of the serving classes, so I told her that all women in my employ were of the serving classes; that is, they were obliged to serve me.
I ordered both Miss Chytte and Tess to throw away their canes and wrestle properly and now I received the satisfaction of watching a proper wrestle. It was a very short one, though. I expected the agile Miss Chytte to fell the cumbersome Cornish beauty quite soon but, in fact, she did not fell her at all. It was Tess who did the work and I understood that the secret of wrestling, as in all fighting, is to do as little work as possible. Connie Sunday told me once that in Arizona, where everybody carries a gun, the best gun to carry is no gun at all but to let everybody guess that you have a gun.
Tess's method of wrestling was more abrupt. Perhaps more English. She simply yawned and flipped Miss Chytte onto her back, then sat on her face with her buttocks spread.
i like doing this, miss,' she said, yawning still, i have done it to my Governess. My Governess likes it.'
Tess began a little dance with her bare bum on Miss Chytte's face and told her opponent that she was not asking her to submit, or any other thing that would make her feel ashamed, but simply to enjoy the pressure of her bare bum and juices on her face.
i would take it as a great compliment, miss,' said Tess.
Miss Chytte, smothered just as I had been by the gorgeousness of Tess's naked bottom, was in no position to reply except for a muffled moan of pleasure. I decided to call the match a draw but let the ladies continue their sport as we proceeded to our next contest. Miss Chytte was quite happy to have her face firmly pressed by Tess's squirming bum and her breasts caressed by Tess's firm Cornish hands.
Lazily 1 rose from my deckchair and, with a crooked finger, beckoned Freddie and Peter. They were beautifully attired, although Freddie's pink frillies were damp with sweat. 1 told them that 1 was number one seed in the wrestling match and they were jointly number two, so that whoever wished to be champion, and win the prize, would have to wrestle me. 1 should be oiled and nude but my opponents would have the encumbrance of proper clothing. Peter smoothed his dress and asked me who should wrestle me first.
There is no going first,' 1 replied. 'Both of you ladies shall wrestle me at the same time. In a threesome.'
So saying, I moved my puzzled slaves into our makeshift arena and at once began the fight. It is actually very easy to wrestle with men when they are garbed in the sweet confusion of proper clothes. Their decency, and the serenity of being robed, takes from them the aggression which the female predator must have.
My method was simple. As my two ladies circled me, uncertainly, I took Freddie by his skirt and lifted it so that his naked cock and balls were clear for all to see. Then I took him firmly by the balls and, as Peter looked a little nervous, I lifted his dress, and did the same to him. I felt so powerful, holding two men, their cocks bigger than Clothilde could have hoped for, by their balls, making them into little boys, and reminding them that they were my slaves. The smallest of a lady's gestures, that is, a squeeze of a man's balls, is the best way to wrestle with him. As I held my slaves, I felt their cocks rise, and knew it was time to submit.
'You have both won, gentlemen,' I said, taking their stiff cocks in a firm grip and leading them to the guardrail. 'Now, you are both number one seeds at wrestling, and your prize is your Governess's bottom.'
1 leant over the rail and spread the cheeks of my bum and felt one lovely cock after the other fill me, first in my anus and then in my quim, with tender fingers masturbating my clitty to one lovely spend after another. And as I looked out on the shore of the Red Sea I thought I had never been anywhere so beautiful on earth.
fcOn to Mauritius!' I ordered Mr Rudiger.
Captured by Pirates
Once, in Paris, on my way to visit my French cousins in their grandiose house on the Loire, I spent some time browsing in the bookshops which throng the Left Bank around the Sorbonne, the university quarter. Of course, the French authorities have always been more liberal than most in terms of what is permitted to appear in print, as long as it is sexual and not political. Voltaire and Rousseau and other radicals had to be published in Geneva or Amsterdam. Indeed, Voltaire established his home at Ferney, a stone's throw from Switzerland, so that in the event of any unpleasantness he could slip over the border. In the event he was not obliged to, and made a triumphant return to Paris, but the threat was always there. Geneva is an attractive if rather dour place.
In matters sexual, the French pride themselves on being worldly and, even though Gustave Flaubert was prosecuted, though thankfully acquitted, for writing Madame Bo vary, it was not for obscenity but for impugning the honour of French womanhood, hence the honour of the nation. In other words a political crime.
On one of my bookshop tours, I discovered a curious book called Venus en Fourrure, or Venus in Furs, which turned out to be a translation from the German of one Leopold von Sacher-Masoch. The cover illustration was quite lurid and showed a man being whipped on his breeches by a lady clad in fur, and a stern expression and some very heavy jewellery. I bought the book and read it avidly. From this book I learned that men are born to submit to a woman's power, the expression of which is her merciless whip. 1 also learned that a man, as he is whipped, should be robed as a woman. For all men, just like my sweet Freddie and Peter, have a female side and, if only they would acknowledge it, they would be happier creatures and not go around fighting each other all the time. Although, I must admit, there is a thrilling aspect to the sight of two naked males fighting over a woman, as Freddie and Peter had done for me.
These thoughts were in my mind as our ship approached Aden where I looked forward to renewing my acquaintance with the Captain and crew of HMS Magnificent.
As we passed through the mouth of the Red Sea, where Arabia and Africa were formerly conjoined, I marvelled at the beauty of our solitude, our nudity and our love. There was a entrancing spectacle off to our starboard bow, as I saw a fleet of Arab dhows sailing towards us. I thought them fishermen, or simply sailors looking for baksheesh, and both things were true in a way.
The sailors on the dhows were unlike other Arabs I had seen, although they wore the jellabah. Their skins were dusky and strangely attractive to me, as though they came from further south. Their faces were smooth and their noses long and, despite the ferocity of their glare and the shining steel of their swords, they had lovely smiles and soft, lustrous eyes. As they boarded our ship, they touched our belongings, especially our women's clothing, with the innocence of children. They put my robes and Emily's to their faces, and breathed deeply of our perfume. I realised that we were in the hands of pirates. But as I looked at those fierce dark men at their evil work, I could not help wondering if the legends were true. That is, that their cocks were bigger than even Clothilde could dream of.
1 told my slaves that we should accept our fate. I wondered what it would be, for if under those jel-labahs these rogues were as well-blessed as I suspected, then our fate might not be so cruel after all.
I was aboard a seized ship, and the feeling of submission to these ruthless, strong men was very thrilling. There is, even in a Governess, a longing to submit. Freddie and Peter, and Mr Rudiger too, were in a sulk, because their male pride had been wounded. Men, of course, have such fragile and tender minds.
Part of my excitement was that I could not communicate with our captors, as they forced Mr Rudiger to turn course, south of Arabia. I suppose they spoke some guttural dialect of Arabic, although in fact, they did not speak much at all. I had expected all sorts of fearsome swords and knives to be produced, but these men subdued us solely by their numbers, by their physical beauty and because we women, I think, wanted to be subdued.
I saw Connie's eyes melt, as she watched the lithe walk of our new menfolk, whilst Clothilde's eyes strayed to the folds of their gowns. I decided that 1 should leave Freddie and Peter to sulk, although both of them looked quite attractive in their lady's robes, and I thought they should have been happy with the beauty of being a woman. Our captors did not think it odd that men should be dressed as women, because their own dress is itself a robe. We were all a little worried that we were to be taken into slavery, although it occurred to me that to be enslaved by beautiful men was not actually such a bad prospect. I decided to try to talk by sign language to the chief of this band of rogues and made suitably inquisitive gestures to ask what our fate was to be.
At first he was reticent, and rather shy for a fierce pirate, but I persisted with what I must call womanly enticements. I smiled, then 1 allowed my fingers to touch my breasts under my loose robe, which made him smile too. He smiled much more after 1 had briefly turned and scratched my bottom, complaining in English that it was so hot and that a lady became itchy in all sorts of places.
I was indeed itchy, for I saw that this handsome dark man had a very strong erection under his robe, and that the size of his penis was everything a lady might expect in her dreams. It was larger than Freddie's, and larger than Peter's or Mr Rudiger's, but I supposed my captor would be insulted if I proposed to measure it, although I also suspected that rather a long tape measure would be necessary to do so. We were alone on deck and I became bolder. The next time I felt the need to scratch my itchy bottom - itchy in every sense - I lifted my robe and gave my chief a fleeting glimpse of my bare arse. Now I had my answer:
'Socotra,' he said with clear desire in his lovely brown eyes. 'Socotra.'
He pointed south with his slender finger as I let my skirts down and hid myself from his view once more. I had read of Socotra in my school geography books, and remembered that it was a barren island to the south of Arabia: so barren in fact that it had never been made part of anyone's empire, because there was nothing to take or exploit. Now I understood that there was another reason: namely that she was inhabited by this mysterious gang of pirates, who posed little threat to Her Majesty's ships, on their way to India, Australia or Singapore, but could easily prey on such frail craft as ours.
There was something promising in my captor's eyes. Even enslaved, I felt the beauty of the Arabian Sea, the heavenly warmth of the sunlight and the gorgeous smell of life herself. Now I lifted my robe, to expose my naked cunny and bottom, and kept my robe lifted. I knew that what my chief wanted was exactly the same as the love I wanted. I smiled at him and he blushed. I reached to his robe and touched his stiff cock underneath. He gasped as I did so, perhaps in anger at my insolence but, I hoped, in pleasure. For when I touched his bulb, it trembled, and his breath became heavier. I felt the delicious sensation of having a man in my power. The fact that he was my captor made me thrill all the more, as did the fact that he was so beautiful and so boyish. I saw him as a darker version of my sweet Freddie, and was sure that he possessed his own Socotran version of cricket bats and riding boots, though I suspected there were little of such things on his island. However, the power a woman has over a male is the same whether in Socotra, Cornwall or Wimbledon.
Softly, I unbuttoned his coarse cotton jellabah. My bare hand was able to touch his naked prick and I almost fainted with a desire that made me sigh, and made my belly and my eyes flutter. My quim was soaking as I touched that erect penis. It was immense. I stroked my captor's bare bottom and knew that I longed to lace it. Such a smooth, muscled bottom deserved my cane.
Holding his cock, I was not capable of thinking in inches, although it must have been at least fourteen! I began to rub it and felt it tremble and rise to its full height; its glorious life and manhood. My captor began to moan with pleasure at my treatment, and his moans made me so wet that I could no longer wait for my own pleasure. I did not wish him to spend before I did, so I desisted my rubbing of his engorged tool, and presented myself, skirts high and arse bare, over the guardrail. My lovely captor was so shy, the lamb, and I had to guide his massive prick into me.
I guided him to my anus bud. I wanted to feel him there, to feel his hot seed wash my belly, and I had an idea that this was the normal way of doing things in these hot climes. My other reason was purely selfish. I had never experienced such a huge cock in my anus before and, ever avid for new experience, even that of being a slave in Socotra, I desired to try.
There is an art to it and my sweet captor seemed to understand. The bulb, or helmet, of the cock must linger for a while, trying her entrance. There is a slight penetration of the bud, then a sort of exploration, and then the glorious moment as the stiffened cock fills a lady and makes her smile with the pleasure of her fullness.
This happened now, with my dark man. His cock slid into my anus bud and after preliminary exploration, found its passage and began to fuck me so beautifully and so hard that I mewed in my pleasure. I had never felt such a big cock in my arse before, not even Freddie's or Peter's, although their cocks are of perfect gentlemanly proportions.
My captor bucked very fiercely and, to my delight, as he thrust into my anus, he began to slap my bared bottom. I had hoped he should do so, although, not having his language, I was unable to ask him for what I wanted. I encouraged him in this by my moans of pleasure and soon felt my bare bum reddening nicely. I felt that in my pirate captor I had found a kindred spirit.
At first, he buggered me most fiercely, and I loved every second of that lovely surprise, although it was not really a surprise, as I had invited it. As my pirate's huge shaft was tickling my anus, I allowed myself to finger my clitty, my damsel, who was stiff with desire.
Then I was buggered so tenderly and serenely by my Master, as I now thought of him, that I felt like a seaflower floating on an ocean of pleasure. He was gentle, and caressed me with soft hands and, above all, was in no hurry, so that my pleasure was prolonged. Ladies will admit to each other, if they are honest, that sometimes they have fantasies of being ravished, of being totally helpless in the embrace of a ruffian, especially one with a dusky skin. And if this ravishing takes place looking over an idyllic sea, so much the better. My sweet tormentor was buggering me so gently that 1 felt love in that giant cock of his, not a desire to punish, and my cunt flowed with such joy that 1 wished to love him in return, regardless of whatever captivity awaited us all on Socotra.
As I felt that silky cock glide in my bum-hole, 1 sighed. I forgot that 1 was a captive. All I knew was that I was a woman being loved. Suddenly, I started in surprise, for a second dark man silently arrived before us and smiled both at me and at my Master, then knelt before him. My Master murmured something in his guttural dialect and slowly revolved me from my position, so that 1 was standing facing the newcomer. I surmised that he was my Master's special friend, or second mate, but at any rate he simply threw off his robe so that he was stark naked.
My Master's cock was still as stiff as an oak in my anus and, with each thrust, I would squeeze him with my sphincter muscle, which gives a delicious feeling of power, even when one is being taken. To squeeze a man's stiff cock when he thinks he is in control makes a lady aware of her own power. At each squeeze 1 applied to my Master's cock, he made a little whimpering noise.
But now I had a new and welcome tormentor. My Master's naked friend smiled at me, faced me, and put the helmet of his cock against the soaking wet petals of my quim. He saw that in the embrace of the Master, 1 was masturbating, and gently removed my fingers from my clitty. Like my Master, he had brown eyes, a shy smile and soft hands. And, like my Master, he had a penis bigger than I had ever dreamed, and it was already fully stiff. It was very long and very full indeed. I felt my heart race as 1 knew, and wanted, what was going to happen.
He patted my Master's back as the bulb of his cock tickled the lips of my wet cunt, and as I was filled in my nether hole by my Master, I now felt his sweet bulb rub against my clitty. I could not help myself from crying out, for he brought me to a spend almost at once.
Sometimes a lady, especially a Governess, feels indecorous when she spends, for she must cry out in her pleasure, but I did not care. As 1 was spending, I felt the second pirate's enormous cock slide as smooth as a glove into my cunny, so that I was fucked by two gorgeous rogues at once, one in anus and one in quim. I did not care that I was their captive, indeed I wanted nothing but to be their captive.
Now I was milking both of those huge cocks and making them both whimper in pleasure. Their motions were slow and sweet, obviously wishing to maintain their own pleasure for as long as possible, but also wishing to give me my pleasure too. Many ladies in our rainy England would perhaps baulk at the prospect of being buggered and fucked by two dusky pirates at the same time. But under the southern sun, a lady sometimes discovers her true nature. Most English ladies, too, would hesitate to admit that the size of a man's member is what makes them happy; just as most gentlemen hesitate to admit that, secretly, they long to dress properly, as ladies, with skirts and frilly things, and all our apparel. At sea, in the freedom of the ocean, all things become possible, even, I understood as I was enjoying my dual fucking, the possibility of being enslaved by pirates and spending the rest of my life on some forsaken barren island.
My ecstasy at the attentions of these huge cocks in my cunt and anus was now so great, and making my head spin so much that I could scarcely think about our fate. But I did wonder what our captors would make of my male slaves, dressed as they were in women's clothes. I resolved to protect them from unwelcome attentions, although I was quite aware that both Peter and Freddie had been at boarding schools where the attention of buggerers is no surprise. There is an innocence, though, to the clumsy fumblings of schoolboys who are trying to find their way in life, just as there was an innocence in the increasingly vigorous fucking - there is no other word for it - which I was now receiving.
A woman always knows when a gentleman is about to spend. He trembles and cries out, and breathes heavily. As I was fucked by my two pirates, I knew that the beautiful moment was soon to arrive, when both of those giant smooth cocks would deliver their sperm to my willing cunny and bum-hole.
The pirate who was in my quim began to roll his eyes and breathe very heavily. His fingers went to my damsel and began to stroke her as he swived me with his engorged member. I knew that as I felt the seed of these men, I would spend too, so expert were they in their loving attention. To be fucked in both anus and cunt is an ecstasy only a lady can feel. Men, poor dears, are blessed only with the equipment they have, and they must use it to serve us. However, if he is big enough, and serves us well enough, we shall reward our slave with a kiss and a smile.
I felt my men's cocks tremble and heard them moan, and knew they were about to spend together. So I squeezed as hard as I could, and milked them of their sperm, feeling the hot seed spurt within me, and knowing for that moment that, even as a slave and a captive, I was the most powerful woman on earth.
When my men had spent in me, and brought me to a climax, I knelt before them, as my captors, and dutifully wiped their sex organs clean. Then I kissed their bare feet. But as I did this, I found that their sex organs, their penises, stood stiff again at the sight of my naked bottom. I couldn't have this, so I put my lips around the bulb of my Master's cock, and sucked it until he awarded me with another jet of hot sperm, which I swallowed.
Some ladies are foolish enough to be frightened of the taste of a man's seed, whereas in fact it tastes quite nice, although bland. As I completed my task, I saw that my menfolk, dressed properly, Peter in a blue robe and Freddie in his favoured pink, were watching, somewhat enviously. I looked up and smiled, and told them that we were now all slaves of the villainous pirates of Socotra, and that Clothilde and Emily should be prepared for the biggest cocks they had ever dreamed of.
I knew, now, that I was really the Governess in charge of my captors, and looked forward to our arrival at the pirate island of Socotra. I called for Clothilde to come on deck, and witness the manhood that she had longed for. When she did so, and saw the cocks, now stiffening again at the sight of her beautiful face, she had a wicked smile and lifted her dress to reveal her bare bottom. Then I watched, with a rather soppy feeling of joy, as she took the men's cocks, hard once more (those dark men were so lovely and so insatiable!), in her strong hands and brought them to full erection.
I had never seen men smile so much! Clothilde lay on the deck with her thighs open and her lovely big quim dripped with her love-oil. My Master, and his deputy, fucked her with their newly erect cocks until, helped by her own fingers, she was brought to a spend, time after time. As 1 watched, my own fingers caressed my own damsel. As I saw Clothilde spend, 1 bent down and kissed her lips, telling her that we were now slaves of these pirates and must go to Socotra.
There are worse things than being a slave,' said Clothilde, 'and I am not sure there is a better thing.'
Bound and Gagged
Women, being superior to men, generally know how to control them. Men, however, have this irritating habit of being more muscled, thus physically stronger. Also, they have the ability to awe a woman if they possess a lovely muscled body, and are endowed with the large organ, the sacred gland, which gives the greatest pleasure to a lady. Sometimes they have a nice smile as well or nice manners, and can make a lady laugh with their sense of humour.
In fact, men can be nice in all respects if they wish to. They have, though, one terrible fault, which is that they are scared of the superior female. If only the male would learn to acknowledge his own female side, what a happier place the world would be, without men going about fighting and killing each other. Instead, they could be properly dressed in pink frillies and properly chastised from time to time, frilly knickers pulled firmly down, and caned on the bare, by a stern Governess.
As we approached the island of Socotra, our lovely dark captors took fright, as males do, and bound us, fearing that we should try to escape. Miss Chytte and
Connie naturally looked forward to this, although they were jealous of the loving attention I had enjoyed from my two pirates. I was a little more apprehensive. Tess simply accepted her fate as one of the things that comes to a Cornish girl, like rain or a storm.
All of us were stripped naked, except for the men, who were permitted to retain their proper clothing, that is to say, their female clothing. Emily was annoyed that her wardrobe had been taken from her but I whispered to her that everything would be all right.
We were tied with our hands behind our backs, in a bowline, which is a knot that will not slip. Then a sheepshank knot went round our waists, binding us to the rail. A sheepshank has to be tight to be effective and can be a very painful knot. My sheepshank was. But I relished my confinement.
I noticed that these dark sailors were very skilled at knots, as sailors are, and that they pleased themselves by binding us in different types of knot. Freddie was in a timber hitch, Clothilde was trussed in what is called a sailmaker's whipping.
All of us, however, were helpless. Trussed and tied, we had no alternative but to look at the ocean and wonder what our fate was to be on Socotra. Yet, even trussed, Freddie and Peter looked adorable in their correct robes and, as I looked at my crew of ladies, naked as I was, I knew that they enjoyed the sensation of being prisoners of beautiful men. There is something about captivity that makes a lady's quim flow. Tethered as I was, my quim was flowing now.
I wondered what was to happen. I suppose that with pirates one always must. I listened to the guttural Arabic, if that is what it was, as we approached the coast of Socotra.
The pirates giggled and I heard a swishing sound which was music to me, for I knew it to be a whip. Helpless in my knots, it was impossible for me to resist as I was blindfolded and gagged with a rope, and I assumed from the sounds around me that the same was happening to all my fellows. I supposed that the blindfold was because they did not want us to see the entrance to their harbour, and that we were gagged because our cries might distress them, for I knew what was going to happen. We were going to be flogged to teach us our new status as slaves.
It is a tradition in the East that a slave must be flogged to teach her submission, just as the same tradition exists in our English public schools and, of course, at St Agatha's. It was Miss Chytte who taught me, in distant Cornwall, that a sound caning or whipping on the bare is one of the most sublime pleasures. I knew that my slaves, although all of us were now slaves of others, also appreciated the cleansing beauty of pain, and the joy of helpless submission. For as we were gagged, obviously in preparation for the lash, we did not protest.
I cannot speak for the other ladies in my company, but for myself, I was quite wet in my quim as I was trussed and awaited my punishment. I knew that it was to make me a good slave, the cares of office, that is of being a Governess, having been removed from me, and I looked forward now to being the slave of another. I knew that these dark men would make me a drudge and force me, and all of us, to perform the most backbreaking tasks on their mysterious island of Socotra. But strangely, the prospect thrilled rather than frightened me. We were all alive. We were captured, but we were wanted. We were desired, and for a lady, to be desired is the most thrilling emotion of all; for to be desired is the expression of a woman's rightful power of enslaving men.
I heard the sound of whips being unsheathed, uncoiled and flexed. The whistle that these whips made suggested they were similar to bullwhips, and 1 learned later, as I shall relate, that in the East, and especially on Socotra, men must carry whips for all manner of purposes. It is a mark of their virility although, from the cocks I had enjoyed, I did not think they needed any further mark of virility.
My Master whispered something to me, whistled his whip through the hot air, and 1 knew that he was going to break me as his slave. 1 wanted to be his slave. I wanted to bear his lash, to be his, and to worship that giant dark penis. I felt his hand stroke my bare bottom, as though in a ritual of tenderness before my initiation into slavery. The stroke of his hand on my naked fesses was so lovely that my quim flowed. I longed to feel his whip on my bare bum, making me submit to his beauty and his power, but, not having his language, I could not express myself to him except by a sigh of pleasure at my fate.
I heard Freddie's muffled moan as his skirts were lifted and remembered fondly the first time I had birched him on his bare bum at Rakeslit Hall.
I heard the whip whistle, and then it descended on my bared fesses, and I shuddered at the force of my Master's blow. The strength of his arms was as great as the strength of his cock and my bottom began to squirm vigorously as my lacing continued. I tried not to cry out at my treatment, but had to moan, a moan of pleasure, as I felt my quim flow with honey. I wished I were not tied, for I wanted to touch my stiffening damsel. But I did wish to be tied. I almost quivered, trussed, tied and gagged, and felt my Master's strokes fall ever harder on my squirming nates. I knew him for an expert with the whip, for my sweet pain was compounded by his deft placing of strokes, sometimes on the same place, right at the centre of my buttocks, but occasionally he varied his strokes so that he took me on the soft skin at the back of my thighs, which hurt abominably. But I loved the hurt I was receiving from my Master, because I could tell from his whipstrokes that he wanted me as his slave. My lashing continued, and I squirmed in the utmost pain, but I did not want it to stop. I was in heaven.
As I felt my naked bottom whipped so ferociously and breathed the soft air of the Arabian Sea, I felt such peace and loveliness. To be tied and flogged by this wicked, virile man, made me feel whole, as a woman. A woman must feel whole by having her cunt filled by a very large cock, by feeling her bottom redden under a man's firm hand or cane, and then turning the tables, and giving his bare bum the most royal of canings. She may then, perhaps, reward him for his bravery under the cane by placing her lips around the helmet of his penis and applying her tongue to his pee-hole until the sweet spunk comes for her to swallow. Men are silly sometimes. They pretend that they have a desire to punish women, to spank and whip us on our bare arses, but really what they desire is to be whipped and spanked themselves.
That is how I knew that my Master would soon be my own slave.
My bottom was smarting and reddened, I was sure, and I loved every stroke. It was as though my Master's whip was his penis and I wanted to be flogged with his penis. I resolved that when I had become his slave, I should exert my power and make him do exactly that, and that he should then become my own slave.
As I received my lashes, of which I lost count at the fortieth stroke, I heard my cohorts receive their own. I hoped Freddie's and Peter's skirts were high over their bums, so that they would not be spoiled. I could not stop myself from wriggling, now, as each whiplash bit into my bare nates. Nor could I stop my cunny from swimming in juice as my Master lashed me. I was sighing in pure pleasure, a captive of a lovely cruel Master - my own Governess.
I think that my Master must have given me at least a hundred strokes with his hard whip. My bottom was on fire and my body was jerking and quivering in lovely pain. I wanted it to go on forever. The stroke of the whip on the bare bum is nothing less than ecstasy. The strokes of my Master's whip made my cunt wetter and wetter, until, I suppose at the hundredth stroke, my belly shivered in her heat, and I came to a spend. It is so gorgeous to spend under the strokes of a strong man's whip! With no other stimulation than the knowledge of his strength, and one's own beauty.
My Master saw what had happened to me and continued his lacing with another twenty lashes as though to punish me for my insolence. Eventually he desisted, and I heard the pirates' whips laid down, as our ship slowed. We were coming into the port of Socotra. All of us had taken our beating, to make it clear that we were now slaves of whatever strange pirate society might exist here.
Now our knots were loosened a little, and our blindfolds removed, but not our gags. I was able to look on my companions and nod to them in reassurance. My Master brought chains, from one of the dhows which encircled our ship, and we were linked by the ankles to walk down our gangplank, hands tethered behind our backs.
Socotra seemed an arid place of red rock. I wondered where we were to be sent and what duties a slave could possibly have here, except to be simply a slave, or be conscripted into some sort of piracy. Suddenly I realised, as we trudged off the ship in our slaves' chains, that Freddie was now naked. His cock was half-stiff and my Master was smiling in pink robes, still wielding the whip that had lashed my bum so fiercely. Freddie looked lovely, but I could see that he was cross at having his robes taken from him, and having to appear nude in front of us women. Women can become used to being nude, because we do not possess cocks to get aroused, and this phenomenon of erection seems both to excite and embarrass a man. It does not embarrass a lady, though it excites her and makes her laugh, and a man who can make a lady laugh is hers for the taking. A penis! Such a lovely, silly, and gorgeous thing.
We were marched in our chains, barefoot, up a rocky path that led to a castle on a hill. Nobody asked us for baksheesh, because it was apparent that, as slaves, we had none.
The Queen's Dungeon
The castle we were led to in our chains was not a castle in the European sense, but rather a cluster of low red rock huts in the Moorish style, surrounded by a high, white-painted wall. I was curious what was to meet us there. Being chained was, to my friends, an unsettling experience, but I found it curiously pleasing. The sense of helplessness in the chains of my Master, and the sensuous swish of the metal across my bare skin, made me quite excited and my quim quite moist. I saw that Connie, too, who had so relished her bondage in my dungeon at St Agatha's, as she told me her story of being bullwhipped by her Mexican vaqueros in Arizona, was just as excited as myself.
Clothilde looked nervous, while Miss Chytte had a sparkle in her eye. My male slaves, drenched in sweat, looked decidely apprehensive, fearing and surmising buggery and the lash.
My Master tugged at the chain to guide us into the gatehouse of the castle and, as we passed through the forbidding portals, I noticed that his manner changed. He became subservient and bowed his head.
The person who greeted us at that dread gate was a woman, robed in white and carrying a whip, with which she lashed my Master once on his back, as though he had been amiss in some matter. Or perhaps just to remind him that she was his queen.
She was a very handsome woman of perhaps forty years, with breasts almost as large as my own, and a bottom of which I was a tiny bit envious, because it was so large and so beautiful. Her golden body swirled like an ocean beneath her white silk robe and I realised that our pirate captors were her slaves and there to do her bidding, for she was surely the Queen of Socotra.
I resolved to discover her name, and perhaps learn some of her language, because I found her most beautiful, especially her lustrous brown eyes, and her lovely bum, which moved so provocatively under her robe and which I longed to see bared, and which, I must admit, I longed to kiss.
Sometimes, ladies who are endowed with a ripe bottom desire to compare and touch, just as gentlemen who have large cocks enjoy bathing together and, laughingly, compare lengths. However, such thoughts had to be postponed as the pirates, their task done, bowed to our new Mistress, the queen, and retreated to their dhows, no doubt to commit more piracy.
A menacing crew of females arrived, bearing whips and small golden chains. Like their Mistress, they wore white robes and, now that our male captors were gone, they proved expert at their work. We were released from our heavy chains, but immediately rebound in the golden chains, which I thought quite pretty.
The men were bound around their balls, while we women were bound in artful and very painful loops through the cleft of our arses, and the lips of our quims. Our submission was made more severe by the fact that the chains had clamps at their ends, which were fastened most tightly to our nipples. The women lifted their whips and dealt blows, to our bare backs. The whips were very thick and hard, and we all cried out at the strokes we received. A caning on the soft flesh of the bare bum is one thing, but a whipping on the thin naked skin of the back is quite another, as matelots understand only too well. Our cries earned us further strokes until we understood that we should cease crying.
Thus were we led to a dark, hot cavern, which 1 recognised to be a dungeon. 1 understood, now, that Socotra was a society ruled by women. Despite my smarting back, 1 felt perfectly at home.
All were apprehensive, and I scolded my companions and told them that, as Governess, I should make sure things were sorted out, as it was my role to do so.
In our dungeon, we sweated in the heat, and suddenly the door opened. Two of the white-robed women brought us a large dish of stewed vegetables and some unleavened bread, which we were obliged to eat with our fingers. We ate ravenously.
After we had finished our meal, the two women came back to collect the dish. They then took me by the chains that bound my nipples, out into the courtyard. The nipple clamps were quite sore on my naked breasts, but I had no choice but to obey. My own slaves were worried about my fate but I was not. As a Governess, one is not worried about one's fate. One is Fate!
Naked, I was led to the queen's chamber. It was slightly grander than the cabins where the other women lived, and I was made to kneel before her and kiss her feet, which were clothed in curled silk shoes. Then I was forced to kiss her pleated leather whip. I was then allowed to sit in a lower chair than her own throne, made of mahogany, and I was accorded the luxury of a glass of sweet tea, which I drank with gratitude.
'You are English?' the queen said.
I nodded yes, astonished to hear my own language from her. She saw my surprise and smiled.
'Aden is not far,' she said, 'and I have been there many times, so I have learnt some of your strange tongue. But you English are barbarians. You eat pork and all manner of strange foods, which are forbidden.'
'You eat no meat?' I asked, sipping my tea.
'We eat lamb and goat, and fish,' said the queen. 'But the fruits of the land are what nourish us and that is why you have been brought here to work. Socotra is desert but there are a few rivers which make a garden. You and your folk are to be workers in our gardens. It shall be punishing work, but my own male slaves must be away at sea, as is their task.'
She looked at me with hooded eyes and smiled maliciously.
'You are naked, while I am robed, and your own slaves sweat in my dungeon. They are your slaves, are they not? For a Mistress can always tell another.'
I told her that it was true, that I was Governess and that my companions were my slaves and must obey.
'Now it is I you must obey,' said the queen. 'And you must obey forever, for you shall spend the rest of your lives here, working as my slaves, in my garden. Your companions shall be given mattresses to sleep on and, if they prove themselves, a kitchen for making their own food. And fresh water. But they must be taken by my sisters to bathe in the sea after their labours. As must you, my pretty.'
She reached over and touched my lips with her fingers. Then she smiled her wicked smile.
'You are very pretty,' she said, smoothing her white robe. 'Perhaps you are wondering why you must be naked, yet I wear the robe of majesty. It is because you are now a slave, and slaves must be naked. They must also be whipped regularly, to teach them their proper obedience. I notice that you have robed your own men as women. Why is this?'
I explained that men loved to be robed as women should they have the courage, or the discipline from a firm Governess, to admit it.
The queen agreed with me and asked what sort of discipline I preferred. I told her that in our English academies we generally preferred the cane to the whip but soundly applied to the bare bottom.
'And you lift the men's skirts to do this?' she asked, her eyes becoming a little misty and her breath heavy.
I replied that it was true, that I would soundly chastise an errant youth by lifting his dress and pulling down his panties, then giving him a good caning, either making him touch his toes or firmly holding him over my knee.
The queen asked me what panties were, and I told her that they were lacy underthings, much favoured by ladies in England, along with corsets and girdles. The queen's eyes grew moist.
i have seen such things in the shops at Aden, for the wives of the British officers,' she said. 'Here in Socotra, it is too hot. We are simple people and wear simple clothing. We have none of these panties or other things. Our weapon of discipline is the whip. A slave is bound and then lashed on her back until she cries out. It is in our rules. But what you say about England is intriguing. In Aden, I have seen many English officers' wives who seem to have a smile on their faces. Perhaps it is because they receive this English spanking?'
I agreed that this was very likely.
The queen then asked me if I could provide a small demonstration of how this operation was carried out. I demurred at first, saying that I was her slave, and she my queen. She rose and came to me, drawing the hem of her robe across my lips and nostrils, filling me with all the musky perfume of the East.
Then she ordered me to lift her robes and put her over my knee. She bent over me, as though I were her queen, and not her slave; our roles curiously reversed.
Trembling, I lifted her robe and discovered a mink so dark and lush that it could have been a forest. Then I touched a bottom as firm as the rocks of Socotra herself. Her skin was so smooth that my hands could not help themselves from stroking her.
I lifted her robe higher, right over her shoulders, so that her naked breasts were revealed. They touched my calves as she straddled me. My fingers reached down and touched her nipples, which were so big and brown and stiff that I gasped with joy.
With one hand firmly on her nipples, stroking each in turn, and then holding them both in a tight squeeze together, I began my demonstration of an English spanking. I laced the queen with a very hard slap on her left fesse, and was rewarded with a moan, I think of pleasure. The next slap went to her right fesse, and another moan ensued. My quim was wet as, naked, I spanked this magnificent golden lady with her skirts up, as my hand squeezed the ripe fruit of her breasts. As my spanking to her bare bum grew harder, so did her nipples, and the louder became her moanings of joy. There is a moment in spanking where fury and rage take over a woman's heart; an unjust rage perhaps, but rage none the less. It is the love of seeing a naked bottom squirming under the hand, and knowing that the victim wants to be a victim. As I spanked the queen, 1 felt that way. I was victorious, I was supreme and in complete control of her. 1 knew 1 was giving her pleasure, and to give pleasure is to enjoy control.
My hand left her stiff nipples and caressed her taut belly, then went to her cunt, which I found to be soaked in love-oil. I found that, as my harsh spanking continued, her cunt became wetter and wetter, as was my own, and that her damsel had become as engorged as mine.
"Stop!' she cried. 'How you hurt me!'
But 1 did not stop. Instead, 1 laid my slaps much harder on that lovely bare golden bottom, which was now suffused with a beautiful crimson blush. Eventually she cried that it was enough, but I knew from the moisture in her quim that it was not enough. I released her from my knee and ordered her to bend over and touch her toes, with her robe still over her head, and stay still so that I could fetch a proper instrument for her chastisement.
I found a long olive branch, rather dry and thus suitable for my purpose. It was, I think about five feet long. With this, I gave the Queen of Socotra a single lash on the bare buttocks as she was touching her toes, and informed her that this was how we did things in England, where proper discipline is of the greatest importance.
After the first lash, I delivered another on exactly the same point on her nates, which made her squirm in a way most pleasing to me and, I suspected, most pleasing to her. My strokes to her bare bottom continued, harder and harder, until they had reached, by my calculation, a full 21.
All the time, the queen obediently kept her fingers on her toes, even as her bottom became positively scarlet.
I must confess that the sight of a properly reddened bottom always makes me wet, and now, enslaved though I had been, was no exception. I thought of my companions in their smelly, hot dungeon. But more, I thought of this bottom bared to me, that I laced so fiercely. I realised I could help my friends by exerting my own power. A woman must always know her power. Now I knew I had power over the queen of Socotra. To spank or cane the bare bum, whether male or female (and are we not all the same, deep down?) is ecstasy, and makes a woman wet.
I had the queen in my power, now, and after she had been chastised with my cane, I ordered her to lie down on her bed, with her face up, and her robe fully raised. She obeyed me in this, as I knew she would now obey me in everything else. A Governess is a Governess, even when she has become a slave.
My queen's face was beneath me as I gently lowered my nates to her head and sat on her face, making sure that her lips were firmly pressed to my stiff damsel, my clitty. She moaned, but it was not a moan of protest, rather of acceptance. I felt her eyes and nose against my anus bud, and then felt her tongue licking my clitty, faster and faster, until I knew I was near a spend. As I sat on my queen's face, I saw her fingers busy at her own clitty and, by her writhings after her chastisement, I knew she was close to a spend as well.
My thighs clamped her head as I let her tongue caress my clitty. As I watched her frig herself more and more vigorously, I asked her if she would give me her white robe. At first she declined, but as the motion of my cunt, sitting square on her face, became more passionate and she masturbated her cunny more fiercely, she spent. And as I myself spent at the sweetness of her tongue, she changed her mind and said yes. My queen gave me her white robe and told me that I was to be her new princess. What else could I do but agree? It is unladylike to disagree.
Princess of Socotra
My duties as Princess of Socotra, now that I had subdued the queen, were not onerous. 1 enjoyed wearing her white robe, with nothing underneath - neither knickers, corset, nor stockings - and I walked in the garden as I supervised my slaves at their work. They were nude, of course, but permitted to wear cotton hats. I believe that Captain Dove and his men would call them topees, which protect that tender area from the sun's rays.
I assigned various tasks to my crew. Freddie was to be in charge of fetching water from the well; Clothilde tended the green vegetables; Miss Chytte was in charge of the root vegetables; Connie was in charge of beans and sweet peas. Emily looked after the olive trees.
Mr Rudiger I allowed to wear his robes as he, a mariner, was assigned as lookout to see if the pirates in their dhows were our pirates or hostile ones. He had a telescope, made in Germany, which the queen explained had been looted from a wrecked German ship. The Germans make good telescopes.
Tess was in charge of tomato plants. She liked that, as, along with me, she likes to eat a tomato with salt. It was something she understood. There are a lot of tomatoes in Cornwall.
There is a hierarchy in slavery, just as there is a hierarchy at a ladies' academy, or any of Her Majesty's military services. All people become proud when they have a job and are doing it well. They also accept that when they have misbehaved, or been remiss in their tasks, they must take punishment for it. That was why, as Princess of Socotra, I carried an olive branch.
If one of my slaves seemed to be slacking, I would cane their bare bum. The queen thought that the English device of the cane was an improvement on the rather cumbersome leather whip. I suppose the work was quite harsh, but I made sure that each of my slaves was no longer housed in the dungeon, but had a cell, and a pallet upon which to sleep.
I myself was invited to share the queen's bedroom, as her princess, and I accepted this proposal. At night, we slept a joyous slumber, embracing each other's naked bodies, kissing and touching our breasts and cunnies most tenderly. I particularly loved to stroke the queen's bare bottom, as she loved to stroke mine. I so love bottoms.
Every night, we would spend in this way. I discovered that she loved nothing more than to have me straddle her face with my naked bottom, and let her lick my juices. I was beginning to love my queen and to love Socotra.
Every lady is pleased to be made a princess, just as every Governess loves to watch her slaves labour in her garden, and lash their bare bums when they are remiss in their duties. Equally, every slave loves to take the lash, for a Mistress's attention shows them that she cares for them. Clothilde and Emily in particular were fond of a full set from my olive branch when they had been naughty, that is to say, seven of the hardest cuts on the bare backside. Connie boasted that she could take more than anyone, and often demanded a full dozen, which she duly received. Miss Chytte, naked, bent over and touched her toes, to take the same dozen, but said, as I laced her, that she was really waiting for the pirates' whips to return, so that she could have a proper lashing.
1 was so annoyed that I made my caning as hard as I possibly could, until the olive branch broke. When her bottom was quite red, Miss Chytte knelt and kissed my feet, then touched the hem of my white robe, and put her lips to it. Her lips moved up my robe to my cunny, which she kissed through the thin cotton.
Thank you, Mistress,' she said. 'You shall be my Governess forever, as you know. But I think you have a Master, do you not? One of our captors? I wonder when he is coming back, because, with your permission, I should love to be chastised by him and feel his leather whip on my bare back.'
Miss Chytte's words brought a strange melancholy to my heart. 1 told her that 1 did not know when my Master would return, and that I should have to ask my queen. 1 looked out at the sea and knew 1 missed my Master. I took to brooding, and thinking of the uncertain relationships between man and woman. My conclusion was that the only thing which matters is love, however expressed, whether with the kiss of the lips or the kiss of the cane. I love a man, and I am free enough in my soul to love a woman too, for everyone must be naked in their heart and true to each other.
Thus it was that I made something happen of which I had sometimes dreamed, but never thought to enforce. The thought of it made me quite wet, but I had never, as Governess, dared to order such an unnatural thing. Yet 1 remembered Freddie telling me of when he had taken other young men's cocks into his anus, no doubt in harmless play. I wondered about young men doing these things and found that it made me touch my damsel, and that the thought of two young male bodies, naked and one buggering the other, was very exciting. So I resolved that when I next caught Freddie and Peter idling I would give them a special punishment. Peter was more idle than my loyal Freddie but I think had led him into his Jamaican indolence.
When I caught them sucking at lemons from one of our groves, and not doing any work, I became angry. I became angry because, as they sat nude, shirking from their slaves' duties, both their cocks were fully erect and they were touching each other on their bulbs.
'Well, gentlemen,' I said, 'if that is what you want!'
'Must we be caned, Governess?' pleaded Freddie.
Peter added that they were just having innocent fun, playing with their cocks as all boys did but that if they needed to be caned for it, then they had no choice but to submit to their Mistress, their revered Governess.
'You slackers shall not have the pleasure of a caning,' I told them, 'because there is no such thing as innocent fun. You have been slacking. You have been playing with each other and now you are going to play with each other to the fullest extent.'
The next day, as Princess of Socotra, I lined up my naked slaves, all my women and my two men for a trial by jury. I was white-robed, but the slaves were nude. The jury were women who must have the deciding voice. Freddie and Peter, for the crime of slacking, had already been deprived of their right to be properly clothed, and had been consigned to the dungeon. I think the loss of their robes was more important and more sad for them than the loss of their liberty. I explained to my naked slaves, as my queen watched from afar, that these two men were letting the side down and must be judged according to the rules of Socotra.
The men were taken up and were naturally bashful when I told my jury that they had been playing with each other's penis. They admitted their crime of slacking but said that it was normal for young men to be friendly.
My jury of women ordered that if young men wished to be friendly, then they must go to the limit of friendliness if they ever expected to be robed again.
That was their verdict and as princess I effected it. I ordered their punishment to be that they should continue with their mischievous game, and that Peter, whose cock was slightly the larger, should take Freddie in the spread anus, after which Freddie should take him the same way. I had never issued such an order before, but 1 knew from what Freddie had confessed to me in Cornwall, that in his younger days he was no stranger to such practices. I know what young men are like, and that they need to be spanked and caned, on their bare bottoms, and thus be brought to their senses. If they have any.
I watched as Peter caressed Freddie's gorgeous bare bum and I became very wet. Peter's cock was fully in Freddie's anus and Freddie did not seem to mind at all. Peter gave a lovely soft moan as he spent in Freddie's arse. That made my eyes grow misty and my cunny wetter still.
When it was Freddie's turn to fuck his friend Peter, I was so wet that I could not resist supervising the operation with my olive branch cane, as my slaves cheered. I laced Freddie's bare buttocks as he used his massive, beautiful penis to slide through Peter's anal hole and complete his punishment of buggering his best friend. I thought there was nothing more lovely than seeing two young slaves loving each other, their naked huge cocks sliding so gently - and it must be gently! - in and out of those taut bums.
I masturbated, my fingers on my clitty, and masturbated again as, when he had spent in Peter's bottom, Freddie took Peter in his strong arms and kissed him on the mouth. There is something divine when two males have the courage to kiss. Then both knelt before me to kiss my feet and ask for my forgiveness. I like being kissed on my feet and my toes tickled so at the licking of those soft wet tongues that I felt quite faint: I gladly gave them my forgiveness but told them they must soon get back to work. They kissed their princess, with her permission, on the cunny and on the mouth, and agreed to do so. They had no choice. I told them that as a reward for their bravery in accepting their punishment, they would be permitted, in the evenings, to be dressed in frocks as the women they really were, and as all men really are.
I proceeded to my duties of supervising the garden workers. Freddie and Peter were back at their work by now and, in my white robe, I felt supreme as I supervised my crew of naked slaves with my cane. The other white-robed women, who carried braided whips, sensed that 1 was a true Governess, and knew that 1 had a special relation with the queen, so deferred to me as I watched the workers in my garden.
1 thought of it as my garden now! When I walked naked on Wimbledon Common as a young student at St Agatha's, that was my garden. And when I first caught Peter Mordevaunt as naked as a faun in my own flowerbed, with his cock fully stiff, my heart went to him, for I knew that he was a child of nature. Of course I had to beat him for stealing my flowers, but young men must be beaten for their misdemeanours, which are legion. If only the women of the world would have the courage, when their husbands are being objectionable, to bend them over their knees, lower their breeches and give them a proper bare spanking, which is often what they need and, if they were honest, they would admit that they desire.
I found my slaves toiling in the garden and walked around them, feeling lovely in my white cotton robe. 1 knew 1 was a princess. The joy of power never leaves, once one has tasted it, and neither, I knew, does the joy of slavery, which is power in her own right, the power of total submission to another.
As I watched my naked slaves, I noticed that Tess and Clothilde were quarrelling over some vegetable matter or other. I was feeling quite hot and aroused from the spectacle of my sweet Freddie and Peter, and 1 wanted to go back to the queen's apartment to make love to her. Possibly, if 1 could persuade her, with my men: all of us in the same bed.
Meanwhile, the tussle between Clothilde and Tess had become out of hand. It seemed that they were squabbling not so much over vegetables as over the attentions of Peter. Perhaps it is not such a good idea to have slaves work naked, for when a man like Peter has such a large cock, women will become envious and turn to fighting. This is exactly what occurred. Tess and Clothilde began to scratch each other's breasts and in a moment were on the ground, wrestling furiously. Tess had her knee in Clothilde's quim and was pummelling her with no mercy at all.
Clothilde, however, being taller than Tess, soon freed herself from Tess's grasp, and had her pinioned, sitting on the small of her back. Then Clothilde began to spank her, very slowly but with harsh blows.
kHe is mine,' she said.
kHe is mine, you rotten French bitch!' cried Tess.
Peter looked on bemused, but I saw that his lovely large penis was stiffening as these women fought over him. It is exciting to a lady to have men fight over her, so I think it must also be exciting to a gentleman to have women fight over him. However my slaves had to go back to work in the garden and I was obliged to stop the fight. I was, nevertheless, impressed by the strength which the two nude women put into their wrestling. Both were fond of biting, on the breasts or on the buttocks, with cries of hHe's mine!'
Tess, being lazy, liked simply to sit on Clothilde, sometimes on her rump, sometimes on her face. Of course I knew that they were neglecting their duties in the garden and had to be punished, but the spectacle of their combat was so enthralling that I could not stop watching, especially as it became not a fight at all, but a love-match. Tess had sat on my face and 1 had tasted her sweet salty juices, and now I saw that as she did the same to Clothilde, her Cornish spell worked the same magic. Clothilde moaned with pleasure as Tess straddled her and queened her.
"Well!" said Tess crossly. kIs this enough for you, you French bitch?'
wOh, no,' gasped Clothilde. 1 saw that her tongue was busy on Tess's cunt petals, searching for her clitty. When Tess sighed in pleasure, 1 knew that Clothilde had found her damsel and that her tongue was tight for her. Clothilde's lovely nude body began to writhe as she masturbated herself while sucking Tess's love-juices.
I allowed the two slaves to bring each other to a spend before sending them back to work and punishing them for their bad behaviour. Bad behaviour is very unladylike so, when they had finished their dalliance, which, I must admit, made me quite wet in my quim, 1 ordered them to bend over and touch their toes.
They each took seven of the best on their bare bums without a murmur, although an olive branch hurts somewhat. An olive branch is the branch of peace, and the most fruitful peace is when she is applied to a lady's bare bottom. When the chastisement was finished, I ordered my slaves back to work in the garden and looked out once more at the azure sea. A fleet of dhows could be seen in the distance and I felt my belly warm and tremble with the knowledge that my Master was coming home.
I knew that once again I could expect to be enslaved and receive a proper thrashing on my naked fesses. My heart leapt with joy. My Master!
That night, in bed with my queen, I spanked her so hard and licked her so fiercely that she spent time and time again and cried out very loudly. She cuddled and caressed me, and I loved her for it, but all the time I was thinking of the return of my Master, and learning, no doubt through my queen's interpretation, of his stories of piracy on the high seas. Most of all I longed for his whip on my bare bottom. As I embraced my queen, I knew that the dhows of the pirates should beach in the morning. That night, after our love, I dreamt of that whip on me, and knew that I should never be happy again until I felt my fesses tingle at the kiss of my Master.
Taming my Master
In the morning, I used my cane to rouse my slaves and set them to their labours. My male slaves were obliged to doff their proper clothing, which, as I picked up their robes, I instructed them to launder. Clothilde, I found, liked to stay in bed longer than a slave must, and I was obliged to deliver a few sharp cuts to her naked fesses to enthuse her for her work in the field. She squealed as I laced her and told her that she must be a good slave, but afterwards she smiled, bowed to me, then went obediently to work.
During the hot morning, I told Emily to supervise Freddie and Peter as they washed their robes, since men know little of the subtleties of washing. In fact men know little of any subtlety at all.
It was lovely to watch the bare bums of Emily, and my beloved boys, as they knelt by the stream and carefully washed their dresses, then left them on a rock to dry. Men should always be robed as we women are, or else be completely naked, although I must admit that the sight of a man in a military uniform can also make a lady's heart flutter.
All that morning I watched the pirates' dhows lingering off the island, and wanted so much for my sleek dark Master to come back to me. At last it happened. The dhows beached and their crews of gorgeous ruffians marched up to our garden, where my naked slaves laboured. They smiled, and bore gold and diamonds which they had no doubt stolen from some passing Indian ship, for the Indians love their jewellery.
My Master, who was the captain of the pirates, carried a veritable sheaf of jewels, pearls, and gold. When he saw me, white-robed, and carrying my olive cane, he came and embraced me with the loveliest kiss.
I melted with love for him, that sweet dark man. All my slaves paused in their work, although they knew they would earn punishment for it, as my Master lifted my white robe to reveal my bare body. Without a word, he adorned me with golden bracelets on my ankles and wrists. Then he produced two startlingly large rings which he pinned to my stiff nipples. Finally, he clipped a little golden ring to the petals of my quim. It did not hurt at all, but felt lovely, as though a golden god had hold of my most tender place. When my Master had adorned me thus, I felt myself so happy that my quim was very wet for him. I wore his slave bracelets with such pride! A man, a Master, had given me gold, and I felt the love that a woman has when she is rewarded for her beauty with her proper treasure.
But I knew also that my Master would need to be subdued, as men must be, if he were to remain faithful to me and not just treat me as some female trinket.
That night he came to my chamber, where it was my custom to sleep in blessed nakedness, when the queen wished to be alone, and roused me from my palliasse. Without a word, he undipped the ring from my quim, and removed his own robe, placing his silky dark body against my own. I knew that I was to be ravished and trembled with desire at the very thought. To be ravished in silence, in a sultry Arabian night, by a lustrous dark man with such an enormous hard cock - so big that I was surprised my cunny could take it. Take it she did, though, and with such wet joy that as my Master fucked me, so huge and so beautiful, I spent almost at once, my hands stroking his beautiful smooth bottom and pressing him ever deeper into me.
He was expert in the art of love, varying his thrusts to make sure that my clitty was touched and made stiff by his cock, and all the while pressing his lips to my nipples, chewing and biting them gently, so that they felt as stiff as my damsel. I spent a second time, and then a third, and was in heaven, but still he did not spurt his seed. He was so strong and so powerful that he could keep his cock stiff and concentrate on kissing and pleasuring a lady without concern for his own emission. This is the true mark of a gentleman, even though he be a pirate.
My pirate fucked me for a time that seemed endless: that giant cock stroking me, his lips and hands caressing every part of my body, until 1 lost count of the number of times I writhed in glorious climax. My heart beat so and I knew my face was flushed with joy. But even as my belly fluttered in my pleasure at his loving penis, I knew that something would have to be done to tame my Master. I had to make him spend; make him soft and gentle again, a little boy, as men are after they have spent their seed.
So, as he fucked me so softly and so relentlessly, I began to squeeze the muscle of my quim, in order to milk him of his seed. He frowned at first but, as my sphincter muscle squeezed the engorged helmet of his cock, he began to sigh and it was not long before I heard his sigh turn to a moan as he bucked like a stag and 1 felt his seed wash my womb with the sweetest of a man's gift to a woman.
I had made my Master spend in my cunny, and now 1 took him into my arms, as men who have honoured a lady with their seed must be taken. 1 kissed and cuddled my Master, now tamed, but knew there was more work to be done, for there is only one thing boys understand if they are to grow up properly -that is chastisement - a different form of embrace but no less loving.
1 knew that in order to subdue my Master, I had to show him my love and gratitude in such a way, so 1 fetched my olive branch, listening to his soft moans as his lips were taken from my bare breast. 1 felt that 1 had to punish him for being a creature who brought such joy to me and I turned him on his belly.
Although no words were exchanged between us, he understood my intention, and obeyed. I saw that lovely taut bum and knew that I must make it squirm as hard and as tight as 1 had ever made a man's bum squirm. He took my first stroke without a murmur, although it seemed the hardest I could give. The second, and the third, too.
The sight of a man's naked buttocks reddening under a Governess's cane is so exciting that sometimes she forgets herself and delivers more strokes than she originally had in mind. My Master took every lash 1 gave him without crying out and 1 was stimulated by the sight of his beautiful huge cock risen to its full stiffness under the force of my beating.
1 was so wet in my quim, I simply had to flog those bare nates until my Master cried out. I wanted to make him cry out, and beg for mercy, but he did not.
My blows to his fesses became faster and faster, and 1 think I must have delivered at least a hundred, loving this man for taking his punishment so bravely; longing in my own heart to feel his beautiful dark manhood inside my quim once more; but most of all ferocious in my desire for him to submit.
He lay as 1 flogged him, without making a sound. Because, as a true man, he knew it was his duty to take his punishment from a woman, just as it was his duty to own and give his love to a woman. My Master knew that 1 was that woman.
When 1 had finished his caning, I allowed him to kiss my breasts, then I bent down to put my lips on his erect penis. I licked the bulb of his cock, letting my tongue stray over his pee-hole, to taste the morsels of lovely seed which were already beginning to flow from him. Now he moaned, as my mouth took his cock right into the back of my throat. His caning had made him very stiff, as it had made me very wet, and as I swallowed his sweet seed, every drop, I spent once more myself.
When it was done and we had taken our pleasure, I robed him in a blue taffeta frock from Emily's wardrobe, and indicated that in the daytime he was to work naked in my garden but that in the evening he would be permitted to be properly dressed in his new frock. Shyly, he assented by a nod, his lovely eyes all wide and misty.
I sent him to his cabin, and went to spend the night with my queen, where I informed her that I had tamed a man, who would in future wear proper dress. She agreed that this one needed to be tamed. We went to our palliasse naked, and made love. My queen, as I sat on her face and kissed her breasts, asked me if it was true that my Master had a very large cock.
As I made her spend, her cunny so lovely and flowing, I said, 'Yes. It is true. And you shall see when he works naked in my garden, with my other naked slaves.'
Next morning, the queen inspected her garden to observe my slaves at their work, while I waved my cane and instructed the workers, along with the other white-robed servants of the queen. They wore simple white robes but with no jewellery, while I wore the golden bracelets and nipple rings and quim-clamp that my Master had given me. It was a piquant thrill to watch him labour naked under the threat of my cane on his bare bottom, while knowing that I was his, beautifully imprisoned by his gifts of gold.
Freddie, Peter and my Master were working hard at their tasks in the garden as my queen walked amongst them, a glint in her eye.
They work well,' she said thoughtfully. They are good slaves, and you are a good princess and slave-mistress. But my pirate captain, who I think you call your Master - he whips you often? And you enjoy your bare flesh suffering thus?'
'Your Majesty, you know I do. All princesses, all Mistresses and all Masters must accept that they need sometimes to be enslaved themselves, to submit to the harsh love of another.'
'And even a queen should do such a thing?'
'It is at Her Majesty's pleasure.'
My queen then asked me to explain what the harshest love meant. I told her that no love is really harsh, no act harsh as long as there are kisses and the warmth of heartbeats. She brooded on this for a little time and then rewarded me with a wide smile. She said that I spoke wisdom but that there were other truths to the art of love. So saying, she went around my naked slaves and took hold of their cocks, feeling them and, I think, measuring them. Her smile grew larger as she rubbed the men's cocks, especially Freddie's. I saw Freddie smile too at the queen's gentle masturbation, so I supposed he did not mind. Only my Master, who was last to feel the queen's fingers on his penis and balls, made a moue of protest so that, under the eyes of the queen, I was obliged to cane him. The caning made his penis rise to its full height and I loved and worshipped it for that, hoping that soon my Master would return my punishment to my own bare bottom.
My queen rubbed the cocks of all the men and now whispered to me that I was not to work them too hard this day, but that I was to wash them properly, dress them in their correct robes as women, and bring them to her chamber that night.
I obeyed the queen, arrayed my men in proper robes, then escorted them to her chamber. Freddie was in pink, Peter in lime green, Mr Rudiger in pearl grey and my Master in blue.
My men were a rainbow of beauty as I brought them to their queen, though they did not know what awaited them. I myself was robed in white, with my golden slave bracelets from my Master, which chinked so nicely around my wrists and ankles, and made me feel as gorgeous as only a bejewelled and wanted woman can feel. My queen, perfectly bejewelled herself, licked her lips as she looked at my males in their female attire. Then she told them, in her fluent English, that they were very naughty slaves to have the presumption to adopt the dress of women, and must atone for their crime. Each man was made to bend over, lift his skirt and petticoat, lower his panties, and touch his toes. I watched as my men were caned bare and each of them took a good two dozen from our queen with my own olive branch.
When it was over, she ordered them to pull their skirts down and be decent. She said it in English to my menfolk, but in Socotran Arabic to my Master. Then she told them that they and I were to accompany her to her private bedchamber.
There, my men were obliged (suitably cowed by their chastisement, which had awakened both their lust and the queen's), to participate in a bizarre drama, of which I was both witness and role-player. First, I was instructed to press my lips and tongue to the queen's wet cunny. I had no choice but to obey, nor did 1 wish to disobey. It was heaven to lick her to a climax, tasting her oily juice. A woman's juice is the sea and the sun, it is the juice of life.
When my own cunny was very wet from the caress of my queen, she instructed my Master to take me from behind, while she herself turned over and allowed Peter to take her in the anus with his giant cock (quite impressive, for a slave!). Mr Rudiger fucked her in her quim while Freddie's cock was embedded between her breasts. With supple hands, she rubbed him to a spend, which made my lovely Freddie moan. I thought he had the loveliest smile I had ever seen. I was so happy for him although I think I was a little bit jealous, which is an unladylike emotion. I think it was then 1 resolved that we should escape from Socotra.
Nevertheless, we spent the night at our dalliance. Our queen was penetrated in every orifice of her body, by tongue, finger or penis. She was soundly spanked on her bare bum and loved every moment, and every spend, that she was given by our loving attentions.
After a night of sleepless love, all of us in the same bed, I awoke from my troubled thoughts, still holding my Master's huge erect cock - that sweet, soft, lovely thing - and looked out of a window to see the escape from our predicament. I had quite enjoyed the lustful attentions of my queen - I would always think of her as my queen, in a strange way - but we were all aroused by a great steam blow from HMS Magnificent. I hurried down to meet the newcomers.
'Well, Miss de Comynge,' said Captain Dove as he stepped ashore from his bumboat - a word 1 find quite poignant. 'How nice to see you again. I thought we should stop here on our way from Aden and do a spot of rescuing.'
He was accompanied by a party of sailors, immaculately dressed in their bell-bottoms and white blouses, carrying guns and looking around suspiciously. I recognised one of them who had fucked me and made him blush as 1 smiled at him. I thought him very nice in his clean naval uniform and my smile told him so.
There were no guns on Socotra, only knives, so the sight of the Royal Navy, heavily armed, made my white-robed colleagues draw back with some uncertainty. I told Captain Dove that there was no need for violence or the threat of violence, and explained that there was a queen, my queen, who had honoured me by making me princess.
Captain Dove looked around, then said in a slow drawl that there were British subjects here who seemed to be held captive and who must be rescued by one of Her Majesty's ships.
'Socotra is not part of the Empire,' he said. 'I wonder if it should be. I shall communicate my idea to the Admiralty. In the meantime, I think it would be in your best interests to be escorted on board the Magnificent;
I answered that I must consult my friends, my Master and my queen. I left him and began to walk to the compound, noting that Captain Dove looked to the garden and saw that my slaves were nude. It seemed to please him.
This is most shameful,' he said, 'that people should be treated thus. Miss, you must allow us to rescue you all.'
I turned on my track and said to him that there was nothing shameful in being naked, indeed it was a most honourable state, and there was nothing shameful in doing honest toil as a garden slave. I suppose I lectured him somewhat, telling him that nudity was sacred, as were gardens, and asking him if our ancestors Adam and Eve were not nude in their Garden of
Eden. I am quite good at making men blush, whether it may be their face or their bottom, and I certainly made Captain Dove blush. He agreed that 1 should proceed to consult my slaves, but that it would be best to transport us all to Mauritius, which was indeed part of the Empire. I knew I should persuade them because I had other plans for the crew of the Magnificent, which involved using the final arsenal of Emily's wardrobe.
When 1 reached the garden, 1 ordered my slaves to stop work and robe themselves, as we had been rescued. I told them that they had no choice in the matter, as their Mistress had decided for them. 1 ordered Emily to provide all with dresses, and we were a pretty sight as we marched down the hill, with Freddie and Peter sweating in their dresses as they carried the boxes of Emily's clothes. Clothilde, at first, insisted on being nude, but 1 told her she should at least wear a white dress, to which she eventually consented.
The slaves of my queen were awed by the weapons of our rescuers and kept their distance as we boarded the bumboat. The sailors were bemused by the frilly robes of my male slaves and delighted at the lascivious eyes of Clothilde, under whose gaze I could see their cocks rising under those bell-bottomed trousers. They made rather ribald jokes about my male slaves' frilly attire, until Peter lifted his skirt and showed them his huge brown cock. The sailors were respectful then, because every matelot respects a fellow who is well-endowed. However they were also curious about the contents of Emily's boxes and when they saw the boxes were full of dresses, their eyes lit up.
Our bumboat prepared to move off to HMS Magnificent, when we were stopped by a loud wail of a woman's voice, followed by the deep groan of a man's. They belonged to the queen and my Master, who begged me to take them with us to whatever our destination was. I looked at Captain Dove and ordered him to make it so.
The Captain's Cabin
There is something about a ship which is strangely enthralling to a lady. The sailors always refer to their ships as fcshe\ and in the olden days had a figurehead of a woman on the prow, although they were superstitious about actually having a woman on board the vessel, and still are. However, since we were distressed British subjects, we had to be rescued.
HMS Magnificent was a wondrous labyrinth of tunnels and corridors and I found myself longing to explore her. Captain Dove installed my slaves in what he called emergency quarters, the women together in one room, the men in the cabin next door. I myself, was honoured with a chamber of my own, next to Captain Dove's own quarters. I felt a little bit sorry for the Queen of Socotra, now reduced to a sort of galley slave, but reflected that she had demanded to come on board with us, and was probably tired of the onerous duties of being a queen and longed to be a slave.
We women have two natures, just as men have. Sometimes we wish to rule with a rod of iron and sometimes we long to submit; to bare our bodies to that same rod of iron.
Men are usually ashamed to admit their female half: that they love to wear frocks and frilly things and feel for a brief moment how gorgeous it is to be a woman. Freddie, Peter and Mr Rudiger had prudently decided therefore to attire themselves in their smart white suits, which Emily had kept for them in her boxes. But their arrival dressed correctly as women had been noted by the crew. Sailors are very tolerant creatures in many ways, because they have seen so much of the world and know a lot about her strange customs. I had one of the deckhands transfer Emily's clothing boxes to my cabin, with her permission, for safekeeping.
That evening, I was invited to the captain's cabin to join him for supper, while my slaves were entertained to their meal in the sailors' mess. I felt quite honoured by Captain Dove's invitation and put on a dress which I thought should please him. It was long-skirted, of blue silk, with long sleeves and a high neckline, so that my body was completely enclosed. It was very tight, so that the captain could see that I wore no underthings. I liked the feeling of the smooth blue silk caressing my bare bottom, knowing that any man who saw me would know I was naked beneath my silk, and desire me. The dress, one of Emily's of course, was so tight that a man could see my shaven quim through it. The thought of arousing men's desire always makes me moist in my quim and I was quite moist as, escorted by his personal steward, I arrived for my supper with Captain Dove.
The captain's cabin, in this giant engine of steel, was like a captain's cabin of old. It had panels of oak, with paintings of ladies on the wall, all of them with tender expressions. There were also various ornaments like cricket bats and football boots which reminded me most pleasurably of Freddie's room at Rakeslit Hall in Cornwall. Men must have their mementos.
In the centre of the room was a lovely mahogany table upon which we were served our supper. We made small talk and exchanged idle gossip as we ate, but I made sure I fixed Captain Dove at all times with my smile and my gaze.
There was turtle soup, followed by roast duck with cranberry sauce, and then a heavenly chocolate pudding. My thoughts warmed towards the courtesy and hospitality of the Royal Navy as I finished my last mouthful of chocolate pudding, refusing, I must add, the proffered second helping. I was so nervous though, and so lustful, that I let some of the pudding dribble on my chin. Chocolate is a perfect food and that is why ladies love it.
Captain Dove reached forward with his napkin and wiped my mouth, for far longer than was needed. Then he touched my blue dress, on the shoulder, and said he hoped it was not stained.
There,' he said. 'You look much better now, my dear. I would not like your lovely frock spoiled.'
I knew that Captain Dove wanted what all men want, so I rose and told him that he was impertinent to touch me and that he had made me cross with him. He blanched at that and babbled apologies.
'Mere apologies are not good enough, Captain,' I said sternly. 'You have been very naughty. You have behaved in an ungentlemanly fashion, and naughty boys must be punished, even though they have the honour to be captain of one of Her Majesty's dreadnoughts. You may have rescued us from our servitude on Socotra, but it does not give you the right to touch me on my dress. What would the Admiralty think if 1 reported this matter?'
fcOh,' he pleaded, 'do not report my conduct. The Admiralty would relieve me of my command and my rank, and I should be court-martialled.'
I said that we must not let that happen to a fine officer and gentleman and that punishment could be dealt out then and there. There would be no further talk of the matter but he must learn that a woman's dignity is sacred.
I ordered him to fetch me a whip, which I knew they carried on these ships, to punish the matelots. It may be technically unlawful now but of course on the high seas the captain rules and the Admiralty is far away.
Captain Dove said rather apprehensively that one of his memorabilia was a cat-o'-nine-tails which he had kept from a previous HMS Magnificent.
I told him to give her to me, and became moist at the loveliness of the whip, her oiled thongs as smooth and cruel as a woman's beauty.
'Must it be the cat?' said Captain Dove.
'We are at sea,' I said. 'Obviously it must. Now strip naked and take your punishment like a man. I want you nude. You are a sea captain, and I think that you must be no stranger to a flogging. I am sure that when you were at the Naval Academy you got plenty of lacings.'
He began to strip off his uniform and admitted that it was true, that the discipline at Dartmouth had been very harsh.
'But we did not get the cat/ he said. 'We got a whip made of a single strand, which is what I use to chastise the men on board my ship.'
'Do you tie them and flog them at the mast?' I asked as I watched him doff his knickers and show himself to me. i suppose you do, so I must give you a taste of your own medicine. Finally, when he was quite naked, I felt myself becoming wetter and wetter, because his body was taut with muscle and his cock, a wonderful ten inches at least, was standing half-stiff in his fear and embarrassment.
Oh, how lovely a large naked cock is! So soft, and so hard, just like the soul of the lovely man who owns it.
I tapped the bulb of his organ with the handle of my cat, and told him that if he was even more impertinent he would have to take double punishment: a flogging on the bare bum and one on the shoulders. He blushed and stammered to me that he would have to be tied to take such cruel punishment so I ordered him to bring me ropes with which I could secure him. Seafarers are never short of ropes, and soon I had a fine selection of whipcords with which to bind him.
The more my humiliation of Captain Dove increased, the more I wished to humiliate him, such was my feeling of power and such was the wetness in my cunt. I looked at his gorgeous prick and ordered him that before his chastisement, he should be properly shaved. His torso and legs were not very hairy but around that pi ick grew a forest of hair so lush that I wished him to be fully bared for my attentions and told him to find his razor and to attend to the matter.
In the ten minutes he was absent, I lifted my blue skirt over my breasts and felt my nipples become stiff, my cunny become dripping wet, and my clitty became stiff. Kissing the lovely whip I was about to use on this man, rubbed myself to a glorious spend.
Captain Dove returned from his bathing room as naked as 1 had ordered. His cock and balls were fully shaven, along with the rest of his body, and although he blushed as he looked at my whip, his bare penis was risen to its fullest extent. I almost spent just at the sight of this beautiful man, and 1 resolved to punish him for his impudence in making me so wet.
'Well,' I sneered at him, 'since you have no self-control, it is quite obvious that you need a woman's control. In fact, I think you should learn the manners a sea-captain should have, and it shall help if you are dressed as a lady.'
He looked puzzled but very swiftly I removed my blue dress and ordered him to put it on. I was now naked, but a woman who holds a whip in her hand is never really naked. Trembling, my sweet captain donned my blue dress and that was the point at which I tied him with slip-knots to the dining-table, lifted his skirt right up over his head and began his lacing with the cat. I did not lay my strokes on very heavily but I made sure that I taught him his lesson. There were a good dozen on his lovely bare bum, making sure that it was well blushed, and another dozen on his muscled shoulders. When it was over, I saw that his cock, underneath the table, was still stiff. I put my lips to it, and sucked it until it delivered a sweet cargo of seed to my throat, which I swallowed with joy as I frigged myself. I released my captain and made him kiss my bare feet, and then I ordered him to return to the bridge wearing, as a further part of his punishment, my blue dress.
4 Are you man enough to robe yourself properly?' I asked with scorn as he rubbed his reddened bottom. A man who does not know how to robe himself as a woman, and admit that his skirts fit, is no man. You have seen that my male slaves wear pink or green frilly things. They know they are men and so are proud to be women.'
Captain Dove said gruffly that he was a man, and a captain, and donned my dress, leaving me naked. Then he left his cabin and I fetched myself another frock from Emily's box. This time it was a pink frock, just like Freddie's. I went down to the place where my slaves were lodged and told them that they should come to my cabin and get new dresses from Emily's boxes, which were quite full.
Everyone took a new frock, mostly in pastel colours, Freddie favouring his usual pink.
The grub isn't bad here, Mistress,' he said. 'Perhaps I should join the navy.'
'Freddie, you are my slave, and you are not doing anything of the sort, or I shall be cross with you. Now put on your proper clothing and just try, for onee, not to make me cross with you, for you know what will happen. I have just given our good captain a couple of dozen with the cat and he is up on the bridge at the moment wearing my blue dress.'
'Yes, Mistress,' said Freddie.
Emily's boxes were a treasure-trove. It was not just my slaves who wanted new dresses.
By the time we were delivered to Mauritius, every man on board was wearing a petticoat, a pink, lime green or blue dress, and some frilly underthings, and they were the happiest men on earth!
Slaves in Paradise
I missed the comforts of Mr Rudiger's 'confiscated' yacht, but it was gorgeous to be brought to a tropical island by an obedient crew of sailors dressed in frilly robes! 1 think they felt they had truly found their home and their spiritual nature. 1 do not know much about how much buggery goes on in the Royal Navy, but I suspect that there is some and, since I so much love a man's cock in my own arse, I see nothing wrong in the practice, as long as it is carried out with love.
There were times on board HMS Magnificent when a seaman had to be beaten for some misdemeanour and Captain Dove decided that my skills were ideally suited to the task of beating. 1 refused to use the cat, although Captain Dove, who now had quite a wardrobe of brightly coloured dresses, liked it on the occasions when I would deign to lift his skirts and whip him. For the ordinary matelots, I preferred a simple four-foot cane and enjoyed teaching them to bend over to take seven of the best, on the bare arse, in proper school tradition.
When my slaves and 1 were loaded into a bumboat to be delivered to the shore of Mauritius, we received an ovation from a deckload of seamen dressed in frillies, who cheered loudly as we went ashore, and shouted their thanks for my tender treatment of their bottoms.
1 kissed Captain Dove goodbye, gave him a hearty embrace, and thanked him for his kind attentions. He, in return, kissed me tenderly and presented me with the gift of his cherished cat-o'-nine-tails. He aso graciously allowed me to keep his bumboat, which is nothing more than a large rowing boat, but I supposed that sailors have their own terminology in all matters.
We watched the great ship depart, leaving a wake as white as a dove's wings, and then we were alone in the sweltering forest.
1 felt as if I was in paradise and although Clothilde was adamant that she wished to trek to Port Louis and find her family, I ordered that we should all stay here for a few days. There was something magical about the forest: everything grew there. There were papayas and banana plants, which are gorgeous big things like penises growing from the earth. There were wild crab apples and pears. There was breadfruit, there were orange trees and, in the sea that glistened clearly, I knew we should have the freshest fish to eat. I felt that this was heaven and, flicking my lovely whip, began to order things as I thought they should be ordered.
Mr Rudiger was to take my Master, Peter and Tess, adept in her Cornish waters of Falmouth Bay, to catch fish for our supper. Meanwhile Freddie, Miss Chytte, Emily and Clothilde were to cut branches and build huts for our shelter. I gave permission to all my slaves that, in view of the heat and the arduous labour they were to undertake, they could be naked. However I gave stern warnings that all frocks were to be neatly folded and safely stored, as women's frocks, like women's bodies, are very precious.
In that sweltering heat, I permitted my queen to be naked, which she reluctantly agreed to, and I also allowed myself the luxury of removing my clothes. But before I walked out of the forest to supervise my slaves at work, I made sure that my whole body, my quim, armpits and legs, was properly shaved, as befits a Princess of Socotra.
It was lovely to patrol my naked slaves at their work and to flick them with my whip to remind them of their duty. It was also nice to think that the Queen of Socotra was now my slave and to know she was happy and proud in her new position. She worked harder than anyone and it seemed that every time I lashed her naked bottom with my whip, which I did frequently and harshly, she was galvanised into cutting more wood and making a new shelter, her reddened bottom sparkling like a beautiful red ruby in the bright tropical sun.
To be naked in paradise is to be naked in one's soul and that is true beauty; just as the globes of a man's or woman's arse are true beauty. The globes of the arse are the planets that govern us. A lovely white bottom like Veronica's is twin Moons; a lovely golden bottom (mine!) is Mars and Venus; and a lovely brown bottom like Clothilde's is the planet Uranus and Saturn. It does not matter. The naked bottom is sacred, and when she is whipped and reddened, she rises to her full sacredness and is the symbol of all the beauty of this world and every world.
As Freddie laboured and as 1 touched his bottom lightly with my whip, he smiled at me, making me wet with love for him. Suddenly, on an impulse, 1 gently stroked his balls with my whip and his smile grew. I knew then that all humans, men and women, are the same. A man's balls are a woman's breasts and the buttocks of all are the globes of heaven.
We slept in hammocks, as sailors did of old, and passed many indolent days in this way. Time seems to stand still when a lady may lie nude in her hammock, caressed by the warm tropical air, and listening to the singing of crickets, macaws and brightly feathered parakeets. There was even a tribe of lemurs, which I gathered from Clothilde are a sort of small monkey and, as Mr Darwin would have it, one of our distant ancestors. They had the most dainty little hands and would play under my hammock, making little furry noises. I learned that they liked to play and let them run over my naked body, rewarding them with a cuddle to my bosom, which seemed to give the dear little creatures a sort of pleasure, which they expressed by making chirping noises. I would also allow the macaws and parakeets to nest on my body, crying their strange bird language and fluttering their lovely plumage against my skin, so that I felt like a soaring, plumed bird myself.
My slaves 1 permitted to be as indolent as myself, since their duties were now no more than gathering fruit and flowers, with which 1 liked to adorn their hair. Nature was in such abundance here that I wondered sometimes why we should not stay forever. We had fish every day and Freddie became quite a good cook, under Clothilde's tuition. Although there is no great subtlety in grilling a fish over an open fire, she showed him how to make appetising sauces from the juices of various plants, including wild garlic.
Tess complained that she did not like garlic because it was foreign. I had to give her two licks on her bare bum with my cat, for her insolence, explaining that it was she who was the foreigner here.
1 love Tess. I especially love her generous bottom, and the way she moves in a sort of circular writhing whenever she receives my whip or cane or bare palm, which is quite frequently, because of her truculent attitude. But I also love to cuddle her and feel the weight of her naked bottom, full on my face, as 1 lick and swallow her juices.
1 was not obliged to use my whip very much, though, except for the occasional flick to my slaves' bums as they picked fruit, to remind them of their need to be obedient.
There was, however, one occasion when it was my duty to give my sweet Clothilde a most severe flogging. It was when she became homesick and complained that she wished to go back to Port Louis. I told her not to be foolish and that she would see Port Louis in due course, as and when I, her Mistress, decided. She called me a cow and a pig, became agitated and slapped my face, telling me that I had no right to detain her.
"1 have every right to detain a naughty slave and, furthermore, to punish her with a proper flogging,' I said. And with that I ordered Miss Chytte, as ever, eager for the task, to assist Freddie and Tess in binding the naked Clothilde, by her wrists and ankles, between two trees.
She lay belly down on the grass and to stop her squealing, Tess sat on her head, pressing it down into the grass. Miss Chytte sat on her back, leaving me Clothilde's magnificent naked bum ready to receive punishment.
This punishment was duly delivered. The insolent Clothilde, pinioned under the buttocks of my two slaves, which were as bare as her own, received twelve lashes from my cat. Although I had been furious at her behaviour, I did not make the lashes too hard, but I did make sure that they hurt, because I wished to see that lovely bare bottom well reddened. And reddened she was. When I signalled that the punishment was over and that Clothilde could be released, she rose, sobbing, to kneel before me and kiss my thighs, begging my forgiveness.
I gave her that forgiveness and we spent the night together naked. I brought poor, beaten Clothilde to spend after spend and she promised that she would never leave me. She said also, as I kissed her bruised bottom to make her better, that she would like to thank me for chastising her by adorning my body with paint. She knew of herbs and flowers which produced strong juices which the people of Mauritius used to decorate each other's bodies. There were many such plants in our vicinity and, since I found this idea intriguing, I readily assented. As I fell asleep in Clothilde's arms, I whispered that I would love her to paint my body, and the bodies of my slaves.
4I am your slave, Mistress,' she replied. 'And just as I have enjoyed your whipping of my bare fesses, and just as much enjoy the kiss of your lips and the knowledge of your breasts against mine, so will you enjoy my painting of your body.'
I was nervous about this proposal of Clothilde's but, when she made me lie down nude, and began to paint me, I felt as serene as the moon.
Delicately, she daubed paint all over my body. My breasts were the sun and moon, my belly was a garden of flowers and my legs were climbing roses. My fesses, as I discovered, were papaya fruit, which I supposed was Clothilde's sly little humour. She painted my shaven pubis with a lovely yellow butterfly's wings, fluttering up to the flower with which she had adorned my belly. On my face, I received a painting of pure crimson, mixed with blue, which she told me were the colours of Kali the goddess. Knowing little of these matters, I could not disagree, but felt like a peacock as I paraded myself naked and painted amongst my slaves.
It was not long before everyone begged Clothilde to adorn them as well and, on my orders, she agreed to do so. Freddie was the first. He was nervous of course, but wished to be as beautiful as his Mistress. He stood a little uncertainly as Clothilde began to paint his cock, after giving its tip a kiss of reassurance. This made Freddie's lovely huge cock rise to its most exuberant stiffness and Clothilde sighed in pleasure at the sight of my lover's manhood. Then, as Freddie blushed at his erection, she painted his cock as a red rose, after which she painted his torso as a golden dragon with green wings. I told Freddie that Clothilde was a very clever artist and that he must be pleased with his decoration. Clothilde smiled. On his bottom she had painted a sun and a moon.
Next came Peter, and again Clothilde started by painting his penis, making it erect with a deft kiss to the pee-hole. What man can resist such tenderness? When Peter was stiff and huge, Clothilde painted him. His ornament was not a rose but a serpent, whose tail coiled round Peter's balls, and went up his belly to caress his nipples. His lovely brown bottom was painted with red flowers which, as Clothilde whispered to me, are a symbol of love. She painted a dragon on his back and told me that was also a symbol of love.
All of us were painted and we walked through our garden naked, but not naked, as our bodies were adorned. Miss Chytte asked for a painting of whip marks, which she received, although I told her that she might, if well-behaved, expect some real whip marks; Connie demanded a painting of steers, six-guns, and cactus, together with some other things they have in everyday Arizona. Tess was perhaps the most delighted of all as she was painted with pictures of fish and flowers that reminded her of her native Cornwall. She started to tell us about fishing in Falmouth but I reminded her we were now in Mauritius, not Falmouth.
Soon, we were all admiring each other's bodies. Only Clothilde was not adorned and I ordered her to paint herself like the rest of my slaves. She obeyed and, so far as she was able, painted herself in the same designs and colours as she had applied to the body of Peter Mordevaunt. When Peter saw this, he held hands with her as they were at their work, picking papayas.
I felt that somehow there was a bond between my slaves Peter and Clothilde. I watched Peter open two papayas, squash one against Clothilde's naked breasts, then lick every drop of the juice from her, and after that press the other fruit to her cunt and lick every drop of the juice of that fruit, as well as every drop of the juice from her cunt. That made me smile, because I thought Peter and Clothilde were made for each other and would be happy. I smiled more when I saw Clothilde lie down, open her legs very wide, and take my slave Peter's massive cock into her cunny. It made me very wet to see how vigorously he fucked her and my fingers moved to my stiff clitty. As Peter came to a spend, in Clothilde's cunt, I came to my own spend, then came forward and kissed them both. I kissed Peter on his cock and balls, very slowly and tenderly, taking his balls into my mouth for a moment, and Clothilde on her breasts, each nipple receiving a very gentle kiss. Then I kissed her bare bum and then her engorged clitty.
i hope you shall both be very happy together,' I said, 'because I order you to be. And if you refuse to be happy, you shall be beaten as never before.'
Peter smiled up at me and said that he was determined to provide Clothilde with the happiness she deserved and with the attention of his large member, which had pleasured me, as I knew it would pleasure Clothilde. He also said that he hoped Freddie and I would be happy together. I told him he was a cheeky young thing, blushed, and burst into tears of joy.
16 Birth
After Peter's remarks to me, I found that my thoughts towards Freddie had changed. I was not quite sure of myself and I beat him more than I usually did, on any pretext.
His bare bum took a good caning and, although 1 loved the redness of his chastised bottom, I realised that I loved something else. I loved Freddie's large cock and I knew that I loved Freddie. I had loved him ever since I had become his Governess at Rake-slit Hall, meeting him in his muddy world of horses, cricket bats and rugby boots. I knew that I had to possess him, not just as a slave, which is easily done, but as a husband. And I knew another thing, which made my heart beat so fast and my quim so wet that I could not sleep for thinking of it. I rubbed my damsel and came to so many spends, but the more I masturbated myself, the more I wanted what I feared so much and what I longed for so much. I wanted Freddie to be my husband and, more than that, I wanted to bear his child.
I watched Peter and Clothilde embracing and loved them for it, and found that my own heart was full of
the sweetest love for my Freddie. My cunt was always wet, just at the thought of him, and his huge cock, and I shivered with worry that he would not want me.
A woman in love has a million worries and confusions in her heart. We know that a man feels he must roam the world and fight and conquer, but at the same time, a man is a man. The smell of him, and the touch of his rigid cock as we bend down to take it softly in our lips, is something which no lady can do without. So we wish him well on his adventures, or off to his wars, and with grief in our hearts, we hope for his return.
I knew, here in Mauritius, naked and painted under the palm trees, that Freddie was to be mine.
I discussed this with Miss Chytte as, nude, we performed our ablutions in our makeshift bathroom by the river. It was not a bathroom at all, of course. Not like the luxurious Parisian commodes with which Miss Chytte had treated herself in her home. Here in Mauritius our commode was nature herself. We squatted together and giggled as we did our business, looking up at the beautiful blue sky which was as beautiful as the petals of her quim. As we squatted I asked Miss Chytte what her intentions were. I was surprised when my question brought a blush to her face. She said shyly that she had formed a friendship and a relationship with Emily. I asked what the nature of this relationship was and Miss Chytte blushed again, as she squatted over the river and she relieved herself.
She said that Emily also joined her at the river, and that they washed each other's nude bodies as they sat down and talked, as they squatted and - well, it would be too impolite to use a vulgar word - but the reader will understand. Miss Chytte informed me that after their bathing, she and Emily would wash themselves and kiss each other. They would make sure that each other's cunt-petals were clean with river water and Miss Chytte, as they were washing, naked, would insist that Emily gave her a proper spanking on the bare. There was something else, which I found strange but charming, because anything that is inspired by love and gives pleasure is charming. Sometimes, as my two slaves were naked at their ablutions at the river, Emily would make Miss Chytte lie on the grass, pinion her, and sit on her face with her bare bottom. Then she would perform what I must call her hygienic functions into Miss Chytte's mouth and all over her body.
At that point Emily joined us, naked, and squatted and bathed, her bare body as beautiful as a rainbow.
'Mistress,' said Miss Chytte, 'how I have enjoyed your cane on my bare nates. How I have enjoyed your whippings in Cornwall; your tongue licking my naked nipples; your lips wet on my own. But Emily and I have something special. I love her. I drink her. Her love-oil is the salt of the sea, her cunt is the most beautiful fish on earth. Her water is the golden water of life. Mistress, I want to drink the juices of Emily forever.'
Miss Chytte put her arms around my shoulders and began to sob. Then she put her lips on my nipples and kissed me until my quim was quite wet. I ordered her to continue until I spent. I was so wet that my thighs were dripping with my love-oil and although it was slightly embarrassing it felt nice as well. Miss Chytte spoke.
'Oh, Mistress,' she said. There is no time in this world at which I would not obey my Mistress and bring her to a lovely spend. But I love Emily. Mistress, love is everything.'
'I know, Miss Chytte,' I replied. 'I am your Mistress and shall always be your Mistress ...'
'Yes,' said Miss Chytte.
'But you and Emily have my blessing.'
Emily knelt and took one of my feet in her lips. Miss Chytte took the other. Then I caressed them in their wet cunts, took them to orgasm, and let them bring me to orgasm.
I was so happy, that I said they did not have to be my slaves any more, although I would like them to be. They said they wanted to be, and I caressed them and told them that I was their Governess, and that once they were my slaves, they would always be my slaves, wherever they were in the world, because I knew now that to be a slave is to experience true happiness. I kissed their cunts and licked their bottoms and told them they were the loveliest of ladies and, as the smiles came to their lips, I kissed them there too, and it was then that they knew they truly had the blessing of their Governess.
Freddie's body tempted me more and more every day. The areas of his body which tempted me so much were his beautiful boyish smile - he would be a boy to me forever - his lovely tight bottom and his penis.
It is perhaps vulgar to describe a gentleman's cock as 'giant' but, since I hold to truthfulness, I cannot use any other word. A lady who does not admit that she respects and desires the size of manhood is a dishonest lady and I, as a Governess, am the most honest of ladies. A lady who is not honest is no lady. A lady who does not treat her man properly is no lady either. She must put him over her knee and spank him bare, then dress him in a pretty frock, so that he learns to behave himself.
Women must be loved and must be worshipped. Men must be taught to do so and the best way to teach them is to give them a proper thrashing and dress them properly. But in Mauritius we were naked, we painted each other and, although I let Freddie, Peter and Mr Rudiger wear the dresses that they liked, I did have to punish them if they were naughty and neglected their duties.
I decided upon a punishment tree to which both men and women would be bound. Miss Chytte was very helpful in this matter. When the recipient of punishment was trussed, naked, I would lace them with perfect cane strokes and then Miss Chytte would unleash them. I would never allow her to unleash my Freddie, however, until I had applied my lips to his stiff member and brought him to a spend. I would not let Miss Chytte release Freddie's bonds until I had swallowed almost every drop of his sperm. With the sweet seed of my Freddie, I licked his flogged bottom, then kissed his lips, touching his tongue with his own seed. He smiled and I knew he was mine.
I made him love me every day, sometimes three or four times and, at every bout of our lovemaking, and at every evidence of my passion, he grew more vigorous. It seemed to me that in the ecstasy of my spends, his manhood grew to the size of the tree of life herself.
I knew I was in paradise and that I belonged to him as much as he belonged to me.
Sometimes Freddie and I would fuck, while Peter and Clothilde would be a short distance from us doing the same. Peter's lovely body would be straddled by Clothilde who writhed so sensually that I was happy for him in his pleasure. I remembered fondly the time that he had crept naked into my garden at St Agatha's, at night, to steal flowers, and how bravely he had taken his deserved caning, and then stolen my panties as well, which were in the drawer of my desk, knowing that this would merit him another caning, which of course it did.
In our paradise, I think that fond memories came back to all of us, as well as dreams of the future. I remembered, for example, my joy at having Tess sit on my face and masturbate me: queening me. I remembered the first time I whipped Miss Chytte, the way she had to be strapped and gagged to receive her desired punishment, and the merry conversations we would have as we both made water on her luxurious twin Turkish commodes. She had bought them at great expense from the porcelain dealer in the rue St Denis in Paris, one of my favourite streets in the world: a street of the most delightful easy virtue, where ladies openly carry the accoutrements of their trade, such as whips and canes. As Sterne said, they order these things better in France, even though they call the art of flagellation The English Vice'. Well, I suppose we are better at it, because of our boarding-school tradition. A flogging is in a very strange way an expression of desire and love. It may be the love which must not be named, as it unfortunately is so frequently, but it is still a form of love. I began to realise that here in Mauritius, we had found ourselves in a garden of love.
We ate the fruit of the sea and the fruit of the land. And we made love. But now I loved only Freddie and did not remind him that the Wimbledon chemist Mr Izzard's protective devices were a thing of the past.
One day Tess came to me, carrying a basket of fruit and wild mushrooms and asked me for a word, as a break from her duties of food gathering. 1 assented and she said a little querulously:
'Governess, that Mr Rudiger. What do you really think of him? I mean he says he is very rich.'
'He is,' I replied. 'Something of a financial wizard, in certain areas.'
There was a strange dreamy smile on Tess's face.
'Mistress, I think he has taken a shine to me. He lets me carry his baskets of fish for him and it is just like being back at home in Cornwall. And he likes it when I sit on his face and bend down and suck the milk from his manhood. And he's so big! And if I spill a fish from the basket, I get a proper spanking. And, then, you know, a good seeing to from that lovely great cock of his. The only thing, Mistress, is that I want to know if it is normal for a man to wear ladies' dresses. I mean I don't know if it is normal, but he looks so pretty, and I wouldn't want him any other way.'
'Tess,' I said sternly, 'it is normal and necessary for a man to be properly clothed. Never forget that.'
Tess brightened up and smiled.
'So it is all right then, Mistress?' she said. 'Because I think he wants to marry me and take me to live in East London, and go to greyhound races and things.'
'We all have two sides, Tess,' I answered. 'Mr Rudiger's love of wearing frocks is his feminine side, which he has the courage to admit. His skill at greyhound racing is his masculine side. Somewhere, Tess, you have a masculine side too.'
'Do I?' she said uncertainly.
'You like to sit on Mr Rudiger's face. You remember that you once sat on mine, queening me, which I loved? That is your masculine side, to be dominant.'
'So if Mr Rudiger asks me to marry him, it is all right?'
I took Tess by the shoulders and kissed her lips and then, in a fond farewell, her nipples and her cunt-petals, for the last time. She stroked my hair as my lips were on her quim, and she knew in her heart that I loved her and wanted every happiness for her. But I had to tell her of her mistake.
'Tess,' I said, 'would you like to be the wife of Mr Rudiger?'
'Yes, Mistress, but he has to ask me. Then I'll say yes. I don't mind going to greyhound races.'
'That is not the point, Tess. You do not wait for Mr Rudiger to ask you, because there is no use in waiting for a simple male to make his mind up. You tell him that he is going to marry you and that you have my blessing as your Governess.'
'If that's all right then,' said Tess.
'It is all right. Go away and tell the silly man what the rest of his life is going to look like, Tess, because it is going to look just like you.'
'Yes, Mistress,' she said with a happy blush, and curtseyed.
* * *
I still had a duty to supervise my slaves and occasionally chastise them with my rod. The erstwhile Queen of Socotra had struck up a friendship with my Master, although now that I knew I was in love with Freddie, he became my former Master. Still, I was fond of him and with the queen's permission, and it is quite a lovely conceit to have a naked, painted queen whom one addresses as slave, I allowed him to thrash my bare bum with my own cane and to do nothing else. My quim was Freddie's possession.
How he could thrash and hurt. How he could make me smart! It was lovely, and a little bit nostalgic, and made me feel the tiniest bit guilty, because I felt I was betraying Freddie. I was not really betraying him, because I knew I was his forever and he was mine forever. But my Master's hand was so good with the cane and I could see that the queen, my slave, appreciated that as much as I did.
I did, however, like to watch them coupling. Caning me excited my former Master, and his vigorous thrusts afterwards, into the cunt of the queen, were inspiring to watch and made me masturbate very copiously. I had to remind myself that I was a Princess of Socotra, but then I reflected that we were no longer on Socotra, so that I had a certain licence.
Oh, we women are fickle and lustful creatures. I suppose that is why men love us.
Veronica Dove and Connie Sunday wandered alone in the forest, naked and hand in hand, and I sensed that they too would form a bond of happiness, perhaps until the HMS Magnificent came along again to rescue us.
* * *
Oh, Freddie's fucking every night and every day was so hard and yet so soft, so loving and so kind, and he made me melt with love for him. I had never thought that a Governess could be such a slave to her own slave. I suppose that sounds silly, but a woman in love sometimes is silly, even if she carries, as she must do, a cane in her hand to beat the bare bums of errant males. Those cocks of theirs, how dare they have such tools? And why do these men make us love their manhood so much; those beautiful huge flowers? They make us wish to lick them, suck them, milk them, and take their seed. We are bees, we women. We feed on the honey that lives in those flowers, those hard penises, and which makes us love and breathe and nurture our young.
It was not long after these thoughts that I noticed my breasts had swollen to something larger than their normally large size. Freddie's fucking had grown to a tiger's intensity, and the more he fucked me, the more I loved him. I knew that I loved him because he had given me a baby.
'A baby?' said Freddie.
'A baby,' I answered firmly. 'What do you think that lovely cock and balls are there for, man? They are there to supply me, your Mistress, with sperm for a baby. My breasts are bigger and if you see Clothilde or Tess, I think you will notice their breasts are bigger too.'
'Gosh,' said Freddie.
'Freddie, I forbid you to say "gosh" any more. It is a bit vulgar. I am pregnant with your child and, make no mistake about it, it is a child which has come from your sweet balls.'
'Gosh,' Freddie said. 'Pregnant?'
Til let you off that "gosh" Freddie, because my belly is beginning to swell, and I feel a lovely warm feeling in there, and I know it is you, Freddie. Although I have had many men, I want none other but you. It is your doing, as you well know and I love you for it and I shall love you forever. I want to have your child. I want Peter to give Clothilde a child, which I think he already has, judging by the size of her breasts and, Freddie, I know you have given me a child, and I am the happiest woman in the world. And now you swive me and swive me again, as Peter is swiving his Clothilde. Tess is somewhere out with Mr Rudiger and Miss Chytte is holding hands with Emily. And the Queen of Socotra is with my former Master, I think everyone is happy here. It is our garden and we own it together. Soon my breasts will be full of milk, warm mother's milk, and Freddie you must drink from me.'
'I know that, Mistress,' he replied, 'because you are life and I love you. I want to drink the milk from your breasts as you have drunk the milk from my prick and my balls.'
I felt a little shy but felt my breasts, and touched my nipples, and found there was a little moisture there. It was milk, mother's milk. Freddie sucked me and swallowed my milk as I felt my daughter move in my belly. I knew it was a daughter because Freddie was like a beautiful woman; the most beautiful person I had ever met.
I made him fuck me and told him that I was expecting his daughter. As his cock penetrated me, I informed him that he was to marry me. He bucked faster and faster, and just before he came to a spend, and brought me to a spend, he frowned and said to me that there was a problem.
'Freddie,' I said, 'there is no problem. You will obey my orders.'
'Of course I must obey your orders, Mistress,' he replied, as his huge cock made me come to a glorious climax and I felt the jet of his hot sperm inside me. it is just that I shall need a proper wedding dress. A white one, with panties and petticoats.'
'Oh, Freddie, my bride,' I sighed. 'You shall be my bride and I promise that you shall be properly robed.'
'I am to be your bride, Mistress?' said Freddie. 'Oh, that is the greatest honour of my life. And to be robed in a proper wedding dress.'
My cunt became wetter and my belly trembled. 'Yes, you are to be my bride, and you shall have your white wedding dress.'
Freddie kissed my breasts and thanked me.
'Of course,' I said, 'the cost shall be deducted from your salary.'
I made him fuck me again and asked him if he enjoyed fucking a woman who was pregnant. He stroked my full belly with gentle hands and kissed me. 'I have never experienced anything so tender, so graceful and so beautiful, Mistress. To feel that my balls have given you your child, and my cock makes you spend, makes me the happiest woman.'
I kissed Freddie as he gently fondled my pregnant belly, and told him that he was no woman but the strongest and loveliest of men, and that was why he was brave enough to be robed.
'My wedding dress, Mistress,' he said anxiously.
'Shall it be cotton or silk? And how long shall my skirt be? Oh, I am so worried about these things.'
I told him that a man does not need to be worried about such things, when he has a loving woman to give him his orders, and I promised him the longest, loveliest wedding gown in the world.
Freddie went to sleep in my hammock with his head on my breast, his hair caressing my shoulders and nipples. As he fell asleep and I grew drowsy, I looked up at the stars and saw the moon, and drifted into sleep dreaming of Freddie's wedding dress, and how beautiful I should make him look.
As my belly grew, I felt my daughter stir in my womb, and loved Freddie and his tender yet fierce lovemaking more and more. He sucked my milk from the nipples of my engorged breasts as he fucked me, and I think I have never had so much worship and pleasure in my life. It is gorgeous to feed a man, because he becomes your baby, and you love him as your baby, even while he is being a veritable centaur with his stiff cock. Freddie told me that he had never done such a thing before, that is, fucked a pregnant lady, and I replied sternly that since he had made me pregnant, with his daughter, it was his duty to do so.
'Mistress,' said Freddie, 'how do you know it is a daughter that you carry?'
I told him that a woman knows, and he sighed with tears of joy in his eyes.
'How beautiful,' he said, his sweet penis, his lovely flower stiff and deep inside me. To worship you with my body, to have given you a child, is the noblest honour that a man can receive.'
As I felt his hot sperm bathe me, I put my hand on my swollen womb, then down to my stiff damsel, and rubbed her until I spent. I told Freddie in a gasp, and feeling my face flushed with happiness, that his seed was the greatest honour a lady could receive.
I saw Clothilde's breasts grow, and also her belly. It was the same with Tess. It seemed that the fertility of our garden made us females as fertile as the fruit trees from which we ate. Although there was discomfort, especially in the morning, our men were divine and looked after us, bringing us the strange combinations of foods that our bodies desired.
As Governess, I ordered Peter to suck at his woman's breasts and take her milk, and loved to watch him do that as Freddie took milk from me, and Mr Rudiger took the milk from Tess's very large breasts. Freddie told me that my milk tasted very sweet, and kissed me on the lips so that I could taste myself. A mother's milk certainly is sweet and that is why babies and grown men, who are nothing more than big babies, like it.
Our lovemaking took on a different phase, which I enjoyed. Due to the girth of my belly, and her precious content, I had to bend down on all fours and be fucked in what is called doggy-fashion. Or else I could make Freddie lie down on his back so that I could take him inside me and straddle him. Afterwards, he would lay his hands on me so that he could feel his daughter stirring inside the womb where she lay. Freddie said that he had never known such joy. He had never thought of getting a woman with child, or fucking her when she was with child, but he hoped it was all right to take pleasure in this way. I told him with a kiss in his ear that he was not taking pleasure, he was giving it.
We womenfolk continued to bathe in the river and perform our intimate ablutions but now our conversations were a little different. We compared the sizes of our bellies, discussed when our term would be, and what we should call our babies wjien they emerged from our wombs. Clothilde was a godsend in this. Because I was frightened of the pain I knew a mother giving birth must face, she, a native of Mauritius, assured us that she knew of certain herbs which, when made into a sort of stew, became a medicine which acted as an anaesthetic potion and stopped the pain of labour. She also knew something very interesting, which was that there were silkworms on the island, here in our garden, brought by some ship from China, and that she knew how to make silk from them. I told her that my male slaves could do that work, and indeed all the work from now on, and could make their own wedding dresses. Miss Chytte would supervise. Being Sapphic, she did not intend to bear child, but to stay with Emily.
As I was squatting by the river with Clothilde and Miss Chytte, Freddie and Peter arrived on my instructions. Mr Rudiger and my Master (as was) being occupied in their fishing duties. I ordered them to note Clothilde's instructions for the creation of white silk thread, for their wedding dresses. Both men looked lovely, Freddie in a pink nightie and Peter in a blue one, for it was the middle of the day and very hot. They listened gravely to Clothilde as she told them the hard work they would have to do in order to harvest the silk and sew their wedding dresses.
She smiled a most loving smile as our menfolk went off to their task, and Tess, whose belly was well full, said that she had been taught to sew. I informed her that if she wanted to help the menfolk, it was quite in order but that she was not obliged.
'But it's a woman's place, ain't it, Mistress?' Tess said with some puzzlement.
'Tess,' I replied firmly, 'how many times must I tell you that it is a man's place to serve us, the fair sex, and not for us to serve them.'
'Gosh,' said Tess, as she abluted into the river.
'And I have ordered you not to use vulgar language. A lady cannot get men to do what she wants, to obey her in all things, which is their duty, if she uses vulgar language. So mind your tongue, Tess.'
'Yes, Mistress,' she responded meekly.
'That's better,' I grinned. 'Tess, you will be happy with Mr Rudiger as long as you make sure that you obey the rules of ladylike politeness and love him, cherish him, and above all, keep him under control. Those are the only things men understand.'
The day approached when we were to be married: myself to Freddie; Peter to Clothilde; the Queen of Socotra to my erstwhile Master and Tess to Mr Rudiger.
Connie Sunday, Emily and Veronica Dove were to be bridesmaids. Beautiful white silk dresses had been made for the men but I decreed that the ladies should be married in their natural state, that is, naked. Our pregnant bellies and the child within them could breathe the warm air. Tess said that there was no vicar to marry us all and I felt my daughter stir in my womb as I became angry at Tess for her simplicity and lack of understanding of nature.
Tess,' I explained. 'It is / who shall marry us all. We have no need of a priest of the Nazarene or any other cult. Here, we are naked, our men are properly robed in white silk dresses, we are under the sun, the sky, the moon, so what need have we for what you call a vicar? In the old days, women ruled all, women were the priests and the goddesses. And some day soon, that shall be true again. Now take your place with Mr Rudiger and I shall marry us all.'
It was a beautiful hot day and I was glad to be naked like the other women as I performed the marriage services. The men were gorgeously robed in white silk wedding gowns and I simply told each one that they were to obey their woman forever and that as their Governess, and with my authority as Governess, I was able to tell them they were now married. I held a palm leaf, and brushed it briefly over everyone's lips, explaining that it was the leaf of love, just as my cane or my birch was the symbol of harsh love. I saw that Freddie's and Peter's cocks became hard under their white silk wedding dresses.
I went around the whole company, my belly full and heavy, and ordered them to lick milk from my breasts. As I felt my friends' lips on my full nipples, sucking my milk, I knew that I was a true priestess, a Governess with no need of the cults of others, that I had dressed my men in white silk robes and married them to their chosen ladies.
Finally, I married Freddie. He touched my naked belly, my womb full, as I pronounced us man and wife. I lifted his white silk robe and kissed his naked penis, then reached up to the tree of the ceremony, which was a papaya tree, and brought him a ripe fruit, which he ate. I licked the juice that dripped from his lips, loving the slight brush of a beard on his chin, then told him that since he was now my husband, and I was carrying his daughter, he must take me to bed. Freddie's hard muscles, bulging through their white robes, lifted me and took me to my hammock, where he gently deposited me, then spent all night sitting by my side, from time to time kissing my bare feet. He looked so lovely in his wedding dress that I could not, nor did I wish to, refuse him his husband's privilege.
The next day I went into labour and Clothilde, most concerned, gave me one of her herbal potions, which smelled of flowers and all the beauty of the forest. It was a concoction of herbs and oils, and just as I had felt the pains of my labour, I felt a blissful peace and the pains disappeared.
I went to sleep and when I awoke, I was holding a little baby to my breast, suckling her, and on my other breast, my husband Freddie was being suckled too. I thought there had never been any lady so happy.
'What are we going to call her?' said Freddie.
'Why,' I replied, 'we shall call her Freddie, in honour of her loving father.'
'But,' said my husband, now dressed in his pink robe again. 'Freddie is a boy's name and that cannot be right.'
I held my baby to my breast as she sucked my milk and told Freddie that 'Frederica' was a perfectly good girl's name, and that if he made any commotion about it, I should lift up his pink skirt and give his bare bum the most ferocious caning he had ever received.
'Oh, Frederica,' said Freddie. 'What a lovely name for a girl. How happy I am to be her father.'
'And how happy I am to have you as my bride, my darling Freddie,' I whispered as I held my baby to me and thought all of the good things there are to think of in this world.
It was not long before Tess gave birth to a little boy and Clothilde also to a little boy. We suckled, breastfed and washed our babies by the river and were the happiest of women.
The boy baby of Peter and Clothilde was named Peter. My baby was Frederica, and Tess had decided to call her boy-child Mr Rudiger.
'Tess,' I said gently, 'you may call him Rudiger, but I think that Mr Rudiger would be inappropriate, because he is only a baby and thus not entitled to be called mister. When he is older, he shall be Mr Rudiger. For the moment he shall be simply Rudiger.'
'If you say so, Mistress,' said Tess, as she put her baby to her breast. 'He shall be Rudiger.'
'And he shall grow up to be as lovely as you are, Tess,' I said. 'Just as Clothilde's Peter shall grow up to be as beautiful as his mother.'
We sat in the warm river, bathing our babies, and giving them our milk, and we stroked and kissed them so that they should not cry. Clothilde then suggested that their breast food should be varied. Soon we had each other's babies on our breasts and it was a lovely feeling to have Peter's boy child on my nipple while my daughter, Frederica, was on Clothilde's breast. Our husbands looked on with loving approval as their naked women, with their painted bodies, suckled their babies.
We knew it could not last, and neither, I suppose, did we wish it to last. A woman's baby is her baby, her son or her daughter. My Frederica is the most precious person in the world to me, except that I am jealous of her for being more beautiful than myself!
After the birth of Frederica, it was uncomfortable for me to take Freddie's cock inside me, but my poor husband loved me so much that his penis always stood rigid. I assuaged him by taking it in my lips and sucking his beautiful sperm from him, while Clothilde minded Frederica. They were such lovely times, but lovely times must come to an end and, if one is lucky, they may lead to more lovely times.
We painted each other, we loved each other, and we fed our babies, until a familiar grey hulk appeared on the horizon. We went to the shore and watched as a boat emerged from HMS Magnificent and landed on our beach.
Captain Dove raised his naval hat to me and, like the gentleman he is, not commenting on my nudity, informed me that he was under orders to rescue all British subjects, since there was a war commencing between the ruler of Madagascar and the Khan of Walistan. I think I have those details right, but if not, I will accept due chastisement. At any rate, there was a war going on and all British subjects had to be rescued.
We dressed ourselves in the prettiest frocks from Emily's wardrobe and, carrying our children in little hammocks, got on board the boat. Our menfolk insisted on wearing their manly naval attire, but Emily insisted that their proper frocks, panties and stockings should be boxed for passage back to England.
Peter and Clothilde, along with my Master and his bride, elected to stay in Mauritius with their son and set off, after tearful but happy farewells, for Port Louis. I kissed them both on the lips and gave my sweet Peter Mordevaunt a sly pat on the bum, and a touch to his cock, which I hoped Clothilde would not notice, although she probably did, because she smiled so lovingly. I loved Peter and I loved Clothilde for loving him and making his son. There were tears in my eyes as I said goodbye and wished them a happy life. I, however, knew that my destiny, even as a mother, was to return to St Agatha's and train young women and men in the correct arts of discipline. To resume my duties of lifting the skirt and taking down a young woman's panties and giving her a good spanking. Or, which I must admit is really more exciting, to put a man over my knee, and take his trousers and knickers down, then spank him with my bare hand.
It took three trips of the bumboat to get all our belongings on board HMS Magnificent. It is funny that when one has spent a long time in paradise, with no belongings at all, suddenly, when a passage out is available, one finds that one does have belongings after all. My most beautiful belonging is Frederica -and it is I who belong to her - the image of my adored Freddie. I told my sweet husband that she would grow up to look just like him. For what a man seeks in a daughter, a woman he has created, is a female image of himself, just as what a woman seeks in a son is a male image of herself.
Homeward Bound
Captain Dove invited the ladies of the party to his table, where we dined well. Freddie was left to take loving care of our daughter, Frederica.
There were shrimps and oysters to eat and I enjoyed myself. I especially enjoyed the sight of Connie and Veronica being introduced by Captain Dove to a pair of handsome lieutenants in their fine blue uniforms. It was so nice to see my slaves' faces light up at the perfect manners of a handsome English officer. Connie and Veronica were both wearing some of Emily's dresses and looked superb at Captain Dove's table.
We sailed back up the Suez Canal and to Port Said, but this time, as I was a mother, the sailors treated me with great respect, especially as my husband Freddie was there to ensure it. We were bound for Portsmouth, thence to London, and I longed to be back in St Agatha's at Wimbledon, to resume my role as Governess. I must say I felt quite homesick for Wimbledon.
There was an occasion on which a miscreant sailor was stripped naked and tied to the mainmast. Captain
Dove asked me to flog his back and I said I would not do such a thing. He was tied and naked, so I gave him thirty spanks on his bare bum, and told Captain Dove this was quite enough. There is no need for brutality. The man was cut down and seemed to agree. I did not want to whip him because I do not want to hurt anyone. Afterwards I gave his bare bum a kiss, one kiss on each cheek, and told him not to be naughty again. A naked man must not be flogged on the bare bum without reason. A naked man is a lovely man, and I informed Captain Dove of this. I hinted that he was quite lovely himself.
My husband Freddie and I were lodged in the cabin next door to the one shared by Miss Chytte and Emily. We all spent much time together and, when 1 took my walks on deck, they would look after Frederica.
At other times we would play games and try on each other's petticoats and frocks. We let Freddie try them on too, which he loved to do. He looked so lovely in his pink, although I sometimes dressed him in blue, and sometimes in beige, more akin to his normal brown muddy colour. I love him so much, whatever colours he wears, my sweet Freddie.
Our meals were brought by a nice young man, a steward named Simon. He served us on bright trays and the food was very good. We had salads and roast beef, plantain, and all sorts of vegetables. Simon brought us our meal one day as we were trying on frocks and I saw the envious look in his eyes. Mischievously, I asked him if he wanted to try something on and he blushed and said that he would not mind. He whispered that although his name was Simon, would I please address him as Simone. I did.
'Simone,' I told him. 'If you are off shift, as you put it, I think my friend Emily will allow you the full choice of her robes.'
His eyes opened wide.
'Furthermore,' I continued, 'you must answer me a question. I am, shall I say, acquainted with almost every sailor on this ship, but I haye never seen you here before.'
'I was transferred at Bombay, Miss,' he said. 'From HMS Invincible, after we had come from Singapore.'
I told him that if he wanted to try on some robes, he had better strip naked, so that he could be dressed correctly. He blushed again, but obeyed, begging me that I should not tell on him to the captain.
I replied that I would never do any such thing, and nor would I tell him about the captain. I think he was confused by this - men do get confused easily - so Emily, Miss Chytte and I seized him and stripped him naked; myself rather roughly pulling down his bell-bottom trousers and his knickers while Miss Chytte stripped him of his shirt.
Simone was naked before us and all of us ladies were amazed at what we saw. I had begun to think of Simone as a woman but he looked like no woman to me, or to any of us. His penis was at least ten inches in length and thick with the richness of life. At the sight of Simone's lovely cock, already half-stiff and thrilled by the embarrassment of his nudity and his taut bum, I became very wet and knew that I had to spank him for exciting me so. First, though, he had to be dressed.
I said to Simone that I supposed he had been up to naughty things in Singapore. I mentioned Bugis
Street, which is where naughty things happen in Singapore.
i admit I have been there, miss,' he said, 'but all sailors do, you know.'
As we put stockings on him, linked to a garter belt, I took the liberty of stroking his bottom, knowing I should have to beat him for the crime of being so beautiful. I ordered him to tell me what he had done in Singapore. He explained as we put a petticoat and silk blue dress on his lovely body, that he had been with Chinese ladies and Indian ladies and had always been naked with them, but had never dared to ask for what he really wanted, which was to wear a sari or a silk dress. Simone said that he loved women so much that the best way he could express this love was to wear their clothes, their dresses, their underthings and stockings.
Under the petticoat we had dressed him in was Simone's gorgeous penis and I saw that Emily and Miss Chytte's Sapphic eyes had lighted upon it once more. I could not betray my husband Freddie, but I could not help masturbating myself as I watched Miss Chytte and Emily lift Simone's skirts and petticoats, lower his panties and suck his beautiful cock to a spend. Simone's pleasure was so beautiful to watch, and the size of his erect and swollen cock so wonderful, that I could not but come to a spend myself.
Although I longed for Simone's huge cock I knew it would never be mine, because it was Freddie's manhood that belonged to me. As I belong to him.
I admit, though, that I did place a fleeting kiss on the bulb, before I put Simone over my knee and gave him a thorough bare-bum spanking. I could feel that lovely ten inches of manhood on my bare thigh and had to be content.
I gave Simone's bare bottom at least sixty slaps, very hard, and he did not cry out at any. His bottom was lovely and red and his penis was so stiff that I could not stop myself from caressing his lovely cock with my lips. I brought him to yet another spend and thought that the sweet sailor with his darling balls and cock was quite inexhaustible. I did not really feel I was betraying Freddie, because I was only taking Simone in the mouth, and swallowing his sweet sperm. It is a myth that ladies do not like the taste of a gentleman's seed, for it really has no taste at all, or at best a lovely creamy taste. Such ladies as protest they will never swallow a man's seed are prudes, which is the worst perversion.
As we progressed back to England, we ladies enjoyed dressing Simone properly, as he enjoyed being dressed. Why do men wear such horrible hard clothes, when they can wear sweet soft things as we do, or better still, be naked? Men are a puzzle which has yet to be solved.
In the days that followed, in our passage through the Suez Canal, thence to Malta, and stopping to refuel at Gibraltar (a rather vulgar place, full of fish and chip shops), I had many occasions to submit my worship to Simone's sublime cock, and suck his sperm, as well as enjoying the fruits of his kitchen.
I also entertained myself, and him, by delivering hard spankings to those firm, delicious nates. How
sweet it was to see the sailor's bare buttocks squirm. * * *
We eventually returned to Portsmouth, whence we took the train to Waterloo in London and from there to St Agatha's in Wimbledon. Simone had elected to follow me to my academy and wished to become a Prefect of St Agatha's. I was so pleased that this sweet girl, for I now thought of her as a girl, would be my new slave!
My beautiful husband Freddie was very understanding, although, now that our sea voyage was over, I had not the slightest intention of betraying him. The vigour of the sea air was replaced by the dampness of dear Wimbledon, where my faithful servants Deirdre and Marlene welcomed us all with open arms.
Simone looked with puzzled eyes at a copy of the Sunday Intelligencer which had as headline, 'EXCLUSIVE BY FOREIGN CORRESPONDENT N.B. IZZARD: HOW I RESCUED BRITISH WOMEN FROM FOREIGN TROPICAL SEX ORGY HELL - NOW SAFELY BACK AT ST AGATHA'S ACADEMY IN WIMBLEDON.'
Simone looked confused, but then smiled knowingly. I picked up the telephone and called the Sunday Intelligencer, asking for Mr N. B. Izzard. He came on the line straight away and said that as a journalist, he needed a story, and that ours made a cracking one, and he hoped I was not offended.
'Mr Izzard,' I replied, 'I have called to thank you, for no publicity is bad publicity. Keep up your sterling work, whether in the Khyber pass or Wimbledon.'
'He's nice,' whispered Marlene one day, looking at Simone, who was now wearing a long black skirt with a white petticoat peeping out from beneath it. i can see his tight bum and I'd love to spank him. I hope you are not cross with me for saying that, Mistress.'
'Not at all, Marlene,' I said with a smile. 'I think Simone will enjoy herself here. She is our new Head Prefect and is blessed with a manhood of at least ten inches, possibly even twelve. And whenever she needs to be spanked or caned, so she must be. But she must always be properly dressed, in a decent frock and clean knickers and stockings.'
Ten inches!' cried Marlene.
Twelve inches!' cried Deirdre.
Freddie was beside me, holding my Frederica. I took him in my arms and kissed my husband and my daughter.
'But nothing like my darling Freddie,' I said.
NEW BOOKS
Coming up from Nexus and Black Lace
Nexus
Bound to Serve by Amanda Ware
September 1996 Price �Ł4.99 ISBN: 0 352 33099 6
When the cruel and manipulative Clive offers Caroline West a means
of saving her master, Liam, from bankruptcy, she agrees to become his
slave for three weeks. Having undergone all manner of humiliations,
she is then handed over to her former mistress - Lynne - for even
harsher training. Unbeknownst to Clive, Lynne is a friend of Liam
and, convinced that Caroline is betraying him, she subjects the girl to
the most severe punishment. Treatment which Caroline finds is to her
liking.
The Governess Abroad by Yolanda Celbridge September 1996 Price �Ł4.99 ISBN: 0 352 33100 3 When Miss Constance de Comynge - the Governess - goes on a luxurious cruise, inhibitions - and clothes - are soon shed, and like-minded friends are made in every port of call. Then the happy band is captured and taken to an island ruled by a strict and cruel matriarchy. Will the Governess's strength of character and expertise in domination be enough to save them all from a life of bondage and punishment?
Emmas Submission by Hilary James
October 1996 Price �Ł4.99 ISBN: 0 352 33108 9
Back in the thrall of the sadistic Ursula, Emma undergoes some
severe and humiliating slave-training, and is then hired out to the
cruel wife of an African dictator. This woman has acquired a painting
which has been stolen from Ursula and, should Emma fail in her
mission to retrieve it, she may never see her beloved mistress again.
House of Temptations by Yvonne Strickland
October 1996 Price �Ł4.99 ISBN: 0 352 33109 7
The young and beautiful Karen is an eager participant in the games
of lust, bondage and depravity which take place in the many bizarrely
appointed rooms of her employers' house. Her fun looks likely to be
spoiled, however, by the cunning and sadistic Pauline who - excluded
for her cruel excesses - is seeking vengeance.
It I \ ( K
l a <v: <�

To Take a Queen by Jan Smith
September 1996 Price �Ł4.99 ISBN: 0 352 33098 8
The Scottish Highlands, winter 1314. Lady Blanche McNaghten is
rediscovering - and broadening - her taste for sexual pleasure with a
variety of lovers, when fate throws her into the path of the imposing
and hot-blooded Black McGregor, a sworn enemy of her clan. Their
mutual lust does not diminish their antagonism and, in the ensuing
power struggle, neither hesitates to use sex as their primary strategic
weapon.
Dance of Obsession by Olivia Christie September 1996 Price �Ł4.99 ISBN: 0 352 33101 1 When Georgia d'Essange is widowed, her fiery stepson, Dominic, makes it clear that he intends to succeed his father, both as the host of an erotic club for rich Parisiennes and in Georgia's bed. Georgia's attempts to divert his attentions towards Natasha - a beautiful but virginal dancer - only increase his determination to pursue his stepmother. Further complications arise when Georgia's first lover reappears on the scene.
The Bracelet by Fredrica Alleyn October 1996 Price �Ł4.99 ISBN: 0 352 33110 0 Kristina, a successful literary agent may appear to have it all, but her most intimate needs are not being met. She longs for a sexual liason where - for once - she can relinquish control. Then Kristina is introduced to an elite group devoted to bondage and experimental power games - and, in turn, to the guilty pleasures of erotic submission.
Runners and Riders by Georgina Brown
October 1996 Price �Ł4.99 ISBN: 0 352 33117 8
When a valuable racehorse is stolen from her lover's stables, Penny
Bennett agrees to infiltrate a syndicate suspected of the theft. As
Penny jets around the world in an attempt to solve the mystery, she
discovers that the members of the syndicate share a taste for bizarre
sexual practices, and are eager for her to participate in their kinkiest
fantasies.
NEXUS BACKLIST
All books are priced �Ł4.99 unless another price is given. If a date is supplied, the book in question will not be available until that month in 1996.
CONTEMPORARY EROTICA
THE ACADEMY BOUND TO OBEY BOUND TO SERVE CANDY IN CAPTIVITY CHALICE OF DELIGHTS THE CHASTE LEGACY CHRISTINA WISHED CONDUCT UNBECOMING CONTOURS OF DARKNESS DARK DESIRES DIFFERENT STROKES THE DOMINO TATTOO THE DOMINO ENIGMA THE DOMINO QUEEN ELIANE
EMMA S SECRET WORLD EMMA ENSLAVED EMMA'S SECRET DIARIES EMMA'S SUBMISSION FALLEN ANGELS THE FANTASIES OF JOSEPHINE SCOTT THE FINISHING SCHOOL THE GENTLE DEGENERATES HEART OF DESIRE
Arabella Knight Amanada Ware Amanda Ware Arabella Knight Katrina Young Susanna Hughes Gene Craven Arabella Knight Marco Vassi Maria del Rey Sarah Veitch Cyrian Amberlake Cyrian Amberlake Cyrian Amberlake Stephen Ferris Hilary James Hilary James Hilary James Hilary James Kendal Grahame Josephine Scott
Stephen Ferris Marco Vassi Maria del Rey



HELEN A MODERN
ODALISQUE HIS MISTRESS'S VOICE HOUSE OF ANGELS HOUSE OF INTRIGUE HOUSE OF TEMPTATIONS THE HOUSE OF MALDONA THE ISLAND OF MALDONA THE ICE QUEEN THE IMAGE THE INSTITUTE SISTERHOOD OF THE
INSTITUTE JENNIFER'S INSTRUCTION LETTERS TO CHLOE LINGERING LESSONS A MATTER OF POSSESSION MELINDA AND THE MASTER MELINDA AND ESMERALDA MELINDA AND THE
COUNTESS MELINDA AND THE ROMAN MELINDA AND SOPHIA MIND BLOWER THE NEW STORY OF O OBSESSION
ONE WEEK IN THE PRIVATE
HOUSE THE PALACE OF SWEETHEARTS THE PALACE OF FANTASIES THE PALACE OF HONEYMOONS THE PALACE OF EROS PARADISE BAY THE PASSIVE VOICE RUE MARQUIS DE SADE THE SALINE SOLUTION SHERRIE
THE SPANISH SENSUALIST STEPHANIE STEPHANIE'S CASTLE

Larry Stern
G.C. Scott Yvonne Strickland Yvonne Strickland Yvonne Strickland Yolanda Celbridge Yolanda Celbridge Stephen Ferris Jean de Berg Maria del Rey Maria del Rey
Cyrian Amberlake Stefan Gerrard Sarah Veitch G. C. Scott Susanna Hughes Susanna Hughes Susanna Hughes
Susanna Hughes Susanna Hughes Marco Vassi Anonymous Maria del Rey Esme Ombreux
Delver Maddingley
Delver Maddingley Delver Maddingley
Delver Maddingley Maria del Rey G. C. Scott Morgana Baron Marco Vassi Evelyn Culber Josephine Arno Susanna Hughes Susanna Hughes
Feb
STEPHANIE'S REVENGE STEPHANIE'S DOMAIN STEPHANIE'S TRIAL STEPHANIE'S PLEASURE THE TEACHING OF FAITH FAITH IN THE STABLES THE TRAINING GROUNDS UNDERWORLD
EROTIC SCIENCE FICTION
ADVENTURES IN THE
PLEASUREZONE RETURN TO THE
PLEASUREZONE FANTASYWORLD
Susanna Hughes Susanna Hughes Susanna Hughes Susanna Hughes Elizabeth Bruce Elizabeth Bruce Sarah Veitch Maria del Rey
Mar
Delaney Silver Delaney Silver Larry Stern
ANCIENT & FANTASY SETTINGS
THE CLOAK OF APHRODITE Kendal Grahame
DEMONIA Kendal Grahame
THE HANDMAIDENS Aran Ashe
THE SLAVE OF LIDIR Aran Ashe
THE DUNGEONS OF LIDIR Aran Ashe
THE FOREST OF BONDAGE Aran Ashe
PLEASURE ISLAND Aran Ashe
WITCH QUEEN OF VIXANIA Morgana Baron
SLAVE-MISTRESS OF VIXANIA Morgana Baron
EDWARDIAN, VICTORIAN & OLDER EROTICA
ANNIE
ANNIE AND THE SOCIETY ANNIE'S FURTHER
EDUCATION THE AWAKENING OF LYDIA LYDIA IN THE HAREM LYDIA IN THE BORDELLO BEATRICE
CHOOSING LOVERS FOR
JUSTINE DEAR FANNY
Evelyn Culber Evelyn Culber Evelyn Culber
Philippa Masters Philippa Masters Philippa Masters Anonymous Aran Ashe
Aran Ashe
Aug
Jul



LURE OF THE MANOR RETURN TO THE MANOR MAN WITH A MAID 1 MAN WITH A MAID 2 MAN WITH A MAID 3 MEMOIRS OF A CORNISH
GOVERNESS THE GOVERNESS AT
ST AGATHA'S THE GOVERNESS ABROAD PLEASING THEM TERESA S VOYAGE
SAMPLERS & COLLECTIONS
NEW EROTICA 2 THE FIESTA LETTERS
NON-FICTION
HOW TO DRIVE YOUR MAN
WILD IN BED HOW TO DRIVE YOUR
WOMAN WILD IN BED LETTERS TO LINZI

Barbra Baron Barbra Baron Anonymous Anonymous Anonymous , Yolanda Celbridge
Yolanda Celbridge
Yolanda Celbridge William Doughty Romany Vargas
ed. Esme Ombreaux ed. Chris Lloyd
Graham Masterton Graham Masterton Linzi Drew
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