Those whose ears were pressed to the door heard the unscrewing of the vaseline jar. Noreen exclaimed in anger and refusal. One heard a slipperiness being smeared between her rear cheeks. When the springs creaked again, there was a suggestion of Mr. Bowler kneeling astride and much talk of the hammerhead knocking for admission at the tight rear entrance. One caught the whisper of Noreen's dark hair threshing from side to side as she squirmed and gasped her refusal. “No! I won't! I won't! Oh, no-o-o-o-o!” The shrillness of the last syllable told its own story of the drama. Noreen, frantic not to have it, was getting it just the same. Mr. Bowler gasped a tribute to the tightness of the rear dimple which passed so thrillingly over his knob and Noreen gave a cry of panic as she felt him press in to the very hilt. Through clenched teeth once more, she panted out her contempt and revulsion for him. But Mr. Bowler was able to enjoy himself at will. For half an hour the springs moved in a steady rhythm. Then they moved faster and with more vigour. Mr. Bowler breathed hard, like a champion winning a race. His fleshy muzzle became a load in Noreen's backside of which the girl desperately needed to ease herself. When his climax came, the tightness of her nineteen-year-old bum on his shaft was exquisite. He shot jet after jet of thick passion into the depths of Noreen's bottom, as a sound of repugnance rose from her throat. Tearing paper from the roll, he mopped a final splash or two of his passion from Noreen's bottom-cheeks and wiped the guilty vaseline smears from between them. Decency forbade that the compromising paper should be found in the folds of Noreen's sheets by a female guardian. Making a convenient wad, he therefore thumbed it firmly into Noreen's behind. Yet he could not resist leaving the last corner protruding like a little flag. It added a suggestive rudeness to Noreen's rear view which would greatly increase the enthusiasm of the magistrates who watched her punished that night. An hour later the turnkeys came for her. Noreen's knickers and riding-jeans were pulled up. Then three of these stalwart fellows escorted her to the vault, where the county magistrates and their ladies were waiting eagerly to see justice done. A strapping young trollop of Noreen's kind is always punished to the limit on these occasions. It is therefore prudent to inflict the discipline at dead of night in one of the soundproof and subterranean vaults. The guests, including Lord Augustus, were assembled there. Gaslight flared on the whitewashed walls of the stone-flagged room. Two hurdles of heavy timber, their top bars padded with leather, were bolted to the floor, parallel to each other and a few feet apart, restraining straps riveted to their structure. An array of whips lay on a nearby table. It was about half an hour before midnight when a door opened and we glimpsed Noreen in her white singlet and working-denim. She was struggling with a wild energy in the grip of the three turnkeys who were propelling her to the place of punishment. How desperately Noreen fought and panted to break free! How violently she braced her strong young legs against the flagstones, contesting every inch of the way! There was still anger in the slant of her brown eyes. Her mouth and chin remained tight with defiance. The collar-length of her lank dark hair fell about her face as she bowed her shoulders and twisted her arms against the grip of the men. The washed jeans-denim strained taut over the sturdy mounds of Noreen's bum-cheeks as she squirmed her hips and cursed her captors, lunging with her haunches to drive the men from her. At nineteen years old, Noreen is a strongly built girl but fortunately the three men were more than a match for her. They made her bend forward over the first of the hurdles, both structures being built of solid timbers, heavy and substantial enough to support her easily. Being bolted to the floor and equipped with stout straps, they also held her very securely. While they bent her over the first hurdle, the men drew her arms out at full stretch in front of her and fastened them down by the wrist-cuffs on the further hurdle. This bar on which her wrists were pinioned could be raised or lowered. By lowering it, the gaoler would be able to make Noreen bend over very tightly indeed. It was only to be expected that he would want to do that so that the girl offered a more sexually suggestive target for the whip. It was important that he should feel randy while punishing Noreen for that would ensure she was whipped soundly. The hurdle which supported her belly had a harness strap quite three inches broad. They tightened this round her bare waist to hold her firmly down. Bending over like this, Noreen was made to present a most provoking and full-cheeked rear view. The faded washed-out jeans-denim was excitingly tight and smooth over the broadened mounds of her buttocks. The sight which she offered would have made any man a disciplinarian 1 She flicked back the dark spilling hair, and the slant of her brown eyes under her level fringe shone with hatred for the three men. One man smiled, standing behind her. His hands began to feel and fondle her rear cheeks through the skin-tight jeans-seat.
Noreen panted and twisted, trying in vain to evade his stroking. He chuckled as he felt her through the smooth denim. “Did you never have men feeling you like this at your work, Noreen? You'll get plenty of it here, I promise you! I must just feel between the back of your legs. Ah, yes! A nice soft swell of pussy-flesh in your pants! Now the cheeks of your strapping young bottom, Noreen! You're wearing panties underneath, aren't you, Noreen? I can just feel the outline of some tight-fitting briefs. Did you think the justices might let you wear your cotton briefs while you were whipped, Noreen? Why, mat would spoil the fun for them! You'll have your panties taken down, never fear. You must feel the snakeskin lash on your bare bottom!” The men left her with the flutter of panic in her young belly growing to real fright. The gaoler made her wait for half an hour in this torment of suspense. Then he arrived and chose two whips from the table. One was a leather switch about four feet long, slim and wickedly supple.
The other was the woven snakeskin of the short pony-lash. Without speaking to her, he undid Noreen's riding-jeans at the waist. She twisted her legs, gasping and struggling to prevent him stripping her, but he wrenched the denim down and off. Soon Noreen's knickers also lay in an untidy tangle round her ankles. The gaoler studied the broad-cheeked pallor of Noreen's bottom as she bent over the hurdles.
He smiled as he glimpsed her sex at the rear of her thighs. Then he spoke to her. “Later on I'll make you bend over even tighter, Noreen. I want you to look as big-bottomed as possible when I whip you. There's no need for pretence here. I shall very much enjoy thrashing you. I'll bend you tighter presently so that you show much more between the backs of your legs. And I'll want your bottom-cheeks stretched hard apart so that I can see everything between them while I whip you, Noreen!” While he was talking to her, two stable-lads slipped into the vault. They hid by the buttresses, having a rear view of Noreen, so that the girl saw them every time she twisted her head round. The younger lad was still shy. He stood facing the wall, watching Noreen over his shoulder. His hands were clasped in his lap and he seemed to be holding some trinket which he polished vigorously.
The older boy unbuttoned proudly and directed Noreen's gaze to the fine stiffness which he held in his hand. The insolence in her brown eyes gave way to dismay as he showed it to her so openly. He wanted Noreen to know that he was greatly excited by her bare rear view and that he was eagerly looking forward to seeing the shopgirl's backside dance to the tune of the whip! The gaoler flexed the supple length of his leather switch. “Now get arse-upwards over the hurdle, Noreen, you young tart! Get right over it! Properly! To enforce this, he lowered the forward hurdle bar to which her wrists were strapped, making the nineteen-year-old girl bend over more tightly. This caused the robust pale mounds of Noreen's buttocks to be pulled apart a little more. There were smiles of amusement from the onlookers as they glimpsed the little flag of paper peeping out between Noreen's bum-cheeks. The two stable-lads pumped their stiffnesses still harder with excitement at this. These young scamps would greatly have enjoyed making Noreen submit to various indignities of the toilet and hoped that they would soon have the chance. The remarks of the worthy magistrates who watched left Noreen in no doubt that we had seen the vulgar sight she offered! Was it anger or humiliation which caused the glow at the points of her broad cheekbones? She sometimes wears her lank dark hair in a collar-length pony-tail and the gaoler now gathered it back in this style and slipped a rubber band round it to hold it. One could now see the slant of resentment in her brown eyes and the defiant resolve in the line of her chin and firm young features. “The justices must see your face while you're being thrashed, Noreen,” the gaoler said. “They like to see how you're taking it. All the men and women here approve of a really pitiless whipping given to a young trollop like you with such a strapping young bottom!” The handle of the four-foot leather switch was thick as his thumb but the whip tapered to a point that was fine as a pencil tip. Smiling, he touched the back of Noreen's thigh, high up, with the quiveringly fine bobble-tip of the whip. We smiled as well to see how she flinched from the cold menace of the leather.