Whipped Women

Vintage Erotic fiction from the early 1900s. Birching (flogging, spanking, switching, flagellation) the derriere of a proud, arrogant, lady of means, turns on her lusty desires.

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Excerpt:

"Oh! my lord Abbot, tell me that it will not be like the first time?" she asked, her eyes dilated with anguish.

"It will be a little more severe."

"Oh, my God!" she exclaimed, and was about to kneel, resigned and mastered, when he said to her:

"But beforehand, take off your skirt!"

"That I will not do! You will never force me to that!" and she seemed as if breaking out into open revolt.

The priest's eyes sparkled.

"Shall I do it for you?"

"Dare to do so!" she replied, her fists clenched, her head thrown back, her lithe body erect and straining, in readiness to defend herself.

"Your servants shall help me, if I cannot get the better of you alone, sacrilegious woman!"

The word "sacrilege" shattered at once all Elizabeth's ideas of resistance.

"My father," said she submissively, "I will do whatever you want of me, but I conjure you, do not force me to disrobe before you at this moment."

"Why do you not wish to undress now?"

"Because-because I am not-not in a fit state to show myself to you."

"Are you uneasy about me or yourself?" he asked. "Methinks it is more coquetry that troubles you than pudicity. Perchance wish you to seduce me? But if your flesh should not appear to-day in its usual brilliancy, or accompanied by its customary perfume, will not that be quite natural and in keeping, since it is unveiled merely to do penance, and to lower proud feelings all the better?"

She did not resist, for she was broken in spirit, crushed beneath the burden of shame. She unfastened her skirt and petticoat herself, but with what awkward slowness! Meanwhile a bitter scent hovered about her more and more, reminding the priest, not of voluptuous feminine furbelows, but of the secret spot where the Princess had been seated a few moments before.

"Off with your drawers now!" was the next order of the confessor.

She looked up with an imploring glance, but the Abbot was in no humour to pardon. Naked, save her chemise and stockings, she fell across the priest's armchair, hiding herself as much as possible, in the dishevelled tresses of her luxuriant hair. Suddenly, he lifted her filmy last garment, of soft silk, and remained as if dazzled at the sight of the divided fleshly circle, so solid, vast; the fair skin tightly stretched over its surface, and so beautifully rotund.

The sepia-like hue that threw its shade over the deepest recesses of her body, and the strong odour that arose therefrom, far from being repugnant, seemed to delight him, as if it reminded him of the rind and perfume of some favourite fruit. He experienced such a craving to press and embrace these superb buttocks, that he could not refrain from opening the slightly sullied cheeks, and even went so far as to slide his linger to the verge of the impure orifice. She shuddered, and half turned her head.

Printed in a large 12 point font for ease of reading