Then, after one or two more questions, she told me that though the spankings had been severe, they were not nearly so painful as the birching I had given her for striking Jane. She clasped her hands, and seemed to shudder at the recollection of that flogging.
I tried to get her to tell me what had caused the lady to spank her so severely; but she would not give me any information, and she looked so distressed when I pressed her, that I ceased questioning her on the subject.
I then told her to get the novel we were both interested in at that time, and read aloud to me, a thing she often did, for I liked listening to her, as she had a musical voice, and she read well, with good intonation, and proper emphasis. She got the book, curled herself up in an arm-chair opposite me, and in a short time we were both deeply interested in the story, which happened to be the “Moonstone,” by Wilkie Collins.
She read to me for an hour, and then I sent her to bed.
V
I will now pass over a space of time. It was the middle of June; “Frank” had been with me over nine months, and she said she was between fifteen and sixteen years of age. She had grown a little taller, and the contours of her figure had become rounder, but she still looked quite like a boy, in her male attire; for I had taken care that she should always be dressed in long loose jackets which concealed the swell of her bust, and the breadth of her hips; and so far, the secret of her sex was known to no one but myself.
During the past months, I had the pleasure of taking down her trousers, — though not as often as I should have liked, — and each time I saw her half-naked figure it appeared to have become more developed; the bottom broader, and plumper, the thighs rounder, and the calves of the legs larger; and while looking at these uncovered charms, I could quite believe she was the age she represented herself to be.
I never birched her now when she committed an offence, because I preferred to spank her while she lay over my knees, on account of the intense sensual pleasure I experienced where her belly rubbed against my tool, in her writhings. For, though I never spanked her severely, yet the smarting pain always made her twist herself about in a lively manner; causing me once, much against my will, to spend profusely; thereby cutting short my pleasurable sensations.
She always bore her punishment pluckily, she would cry, and wriggle, but she never made a noise by squealing out loud; and after the smart had passed off, she would become quite composed, never showing the least sulkiness, nor did she blush, or look shyly at me as she formerly had. In fact, she appeared to take her occasional spankings as a matter of course; knowing that I never gave her a whipping unless she deserved it Whenever I did happen to take her across my knees, I really believe I was the more moved of the two-in a different way, of course-for I am sure that I was always more affected by the tickling of my prick, than she was affected by the smarting of her bottom.
I had grown fond of her, and I think she had began to have a tender feeling for me, for she would sometimes sit on a stool at my feet, and nestle close up to me, resting her head against my knee in quite the girlish way, and looking up at me, with an affectionate smile. On those occasions, I had some difficulty in preventing myself taking the dear little creature up in my arms and kissing her all over, at the same time telling her that I knew she was a girl.
But I always managed to restrain myself. There was no hurry, and I intended to wait some time longer before attempting to “pluck the rose.”
I frequently went away, for a few days at a time, to London or other places, and whenever I returned home, “Frank” always welcomed me most warmly, her eyes sparkling, and her cheeks flushing with pleasure; she would take my hand and press it between hers; and I am sure, had I given her the least encouragement, she would have kissed me. But I used merely to shake hands with her in the ordinary male way, end ask her some trivial questions.
The weather at this time was glorious, and the country was in its full summer beauty, so “Frank” and I spent a good deal of our time in the open air, walking, or driving, I had wished her to learn to ride, but she always refused, and I think I knew the reason of her refusal. She did not like to ride astride, which she would have been obliged to do in her character as a boy.
And so the days slipped by; the girl being my constant companion, and I thought I knew her disposition and tastes completely; but, later on, I found that I did not know quite everything.
Towards the end of July I went up to London, where I spent ten days very pleasantly, as I knew numbers of people, and always had plenty of invitations of all sorts; moreover, there was Maud. I slept with her every night, and in the mornings I always renewed my vigour by birching her big, white bottom till it turned as red as a rose; the smarting pain making the tears come into her eyes. But she was very plucky; she would bury her face in the pillow, and allow me to go on whipping her till at last she could bear no more. Then she would roll over on to her back, and with outstretched legs, flushed cheeks, and her eyes sparkling through the tears that filled them, she would wait for the furious assault which was soon made upon her by me.
On my return to Oakhurst, “Frank,” as usual, was delighted to see me, and she hovered about me all the evening in a most affectionate way. But I was destined soon to see a curious phase in her character, one hitherto unknown to me. About a week after my return, on a beautiful afternoon, I took a book and went out into the grounds, intending to go and read in an arbour which had been built under two large oak trees at some distance from the house. This arbour was a favourite resort of mine on a hot day, as the place was always cool and shady, being constructed of lattice work, and covered with creepers of various sorts. It was furnished with a couple of low, round, Moorish tables for holding coffee cups; there was a long cane chair well-cushioned, and on the floor there were two or three Persian rugs.
On approaching the arbour, I heard voices; one being “Frank’s,” and the other was the voice of a child. Now, as I had never before known “Frank” bring a child of any sort into the grounds, I felt rather curious, and I wished to see what was going on inside the arbour, without being seen myself. So I did not go into the place, but slipped quietly round to the back, and peeped in through the creeper-covered lattice work. “Frank’s” companion was a little boy between nine and ten years old, whom I recognized as one of the children of a most respectable woman named Mrs. Barker, the wife of a gardener who lived in a cottage near my lodge gates, but who was not in my employ.
I was aware that all Barker’s children were known by “Frank,” but I did not think she would have associated with any one of them.
The boy, Tom, was a good-looking little fellow, with dark eyes, and curly, brown hair; he was clean, and was neatly dressed in a knickerbocker suit.
“Frank” and he, apparently on very friendly terms, were sitting side by side on the long chair. I watched, and listened attentively. The first thing I heard “Frank” say, astonished me. She put a question to the boy.
“Have you ever been spanked?”
“Yes, Master Francis,” replied Tom. “My mother often gives me a spanking.”