The Pearl/Volume 6/MISS COOTE'S CONFESSION, OR THE VOLUPTUOUS EXPERIENCES OF AN OLD MAID.

In a series of Letters to a Lady Friend.

LETTER VI

My Dear Nellie,

During my late tour in Italy and Germany I often amused myself with making notes for further letters to you on my return to England, collecting all the incidents I could think of or remember as likely to interest you, and now I am at home once more I will amuse myself on dull evenings by writing you another series of letters. Well, then, to begin.

When I left school my guardians entrusted me to the care of Mdlle. Fosse, and we were soon settled in a house of my own in the western suburbs of London. My establishment consisted of ourselves, Jane, my grandfather's late servant (who acted as our lady's-maid), a cook called Margaret, and two housemaids, Mary and Polly, besides a nice young page, a brother of Jane's, who was called Charlie.

My guardians thought that until I was of age we could dispense with a footman or coachman, and hire from time to time such carriages as we might require to visit our friends, or go shopping, or to the theatres, and my allowance was limited to £1000 a year, out of which Mademoiselle had a liberal salary of £200, which I never begrudged in the least; she was such a dear, loving soul, and always did all she could to further my amusements and keep me out of serious mischief.

Myself and Mademoiselle occupied separate bedrooms communicating with each other, so that we could, if we wished, enjoy each other's society by night as well as day. The cook and Mary occupied a room at the top of the house, whilst the page had a little cell of a room to himself on the same corridor as our bedrooms, and Jane and Polly (we were obliged to call her so, to distinguish her from the other Mary), were also in a room on the same flight, which also contained a couple of spare rooms for visitors. On the top floor there were several spare rooms, one of which was very large, and after consultation with Mademoiselle I determined to fit it up as a punishment chamber, and maintain strict discipline in my family. I had hooks fixed in the ceiling, and also provided a complete paraphernalia of ropes, blocks, and pulleys, a whipping post and ladder, also a kind of stocks in which to fix a body so as only to expose the legs and bottom behind, and prevent the victim from seeing who was punishing her.

Mademoiselle and myself frequently indulged in our "Soirees Lubriques," as she called them, and for an occasional extra excitement, we got Jane, and either birched her in our bedrooms, or got her to assist us in birching one another, for I was now thoroughly given to the pleasures of the rod and the excitement to be raised by its application. These little bits of fun, as we called them, were wanting in that piquancy so appreciable when the victim is a thorough stranger to the birch, and feels its tickling effects for the first time. This made us particularly on the look-out for some culprit whom we might immolate to our prurient desires.

Our gardener was a steady man, rather over forty, and his wife, a very pretty woman of about thirty. They had two nice little girls of nine and ten years old, and lived in a small cottage at the back entrance of our garden, which was pretty large.

Mrs. White, the gardener's wife, was very fond of finery, and her husband's wages not being sufficient to satisfy her cravings in that respect, she hit upon the ingenious plan of supplying some of our neighbours (who were not so well off for garden produce as we were) with some of the fruit and vegetables which otherwise would have been wasted, and as she thought might as well be sold for her own profit. The father did not see much harm in it, as he afterwards said, Miss Coote was so good and generous, and did not seem to mind what they took for themselves.

The two little girls, Minnie and Lucy, were employed by their parents to carry things out at the back gate, but they happened to be seen by Jane early one morning, and duly reported to me.

I had long an unaccountable wish to birch these little dears, but could think of no excuse how to bring it about, so that Jane's report was most welcome.

In company with Mademoiselle, early in the morning, we repaired by a roundabout way to the back entrance of my garden, and placed ourselves so as to see exactly what was going on, and were soon rewarded for our trouble by seeing the little girls carry several baskets of fruits into their mother's cottage.

Having satisfied ourselves as to the facts of the case, I returned to the house, and ordered the gardener and all his family to be summoned to my presence.

In company with Mademoiselle, I received them in the drawing-room. White and his wife, leading in the little girls by the hand, and with a respectful obeisance, enquired the reason of my sending for them.

Miss Coote. - "Your pretended innocence is well assumed. How is it, White, that your children carry away fruit from the garden as they do every morning?"

White, stammering in great confusion. - "They only have a little for ourselves, Miss."

Miss Coote. - "You're only adding falsehood to theft. White, your wife does not get all her finery out of your wages."

White. - "Oh! Sally! (To his wife:) Pray speak. I don't know anything about it."

Mrs. White (scarlet with shame, and bursting into tears). - "Oh! Oh! It's all my fault. William don't know I ever sold anything, and the dear children are innocent. Oh! Pray forgive me, Miss Coote."

Miss Coote (sternly). - "He must know. He's as bad as, you, and you're bringing up those little girls to be thieves."

White and his wife and children all went on their knees, imploring me for mercy, and protesting that very little had been sold.

Miss Coote. - "Nonsense! You make me think you even worse, because I know it has been going on for some time. Now make your choice. Shall I punish you severely myself, or have you taken before a magistrate? You know they will hang both of you."

White and his wife both implore for mercy, and beg me to punish them any way I may think best. "Only, only, pray Miss Coote, spare the dear little things, they only did what we told them."

Miss Coote. - "You are wise to leave it to me. I may have some mercy; the law has none for poor wretched thieves. I don't know how to punish you, White, as you are a man, so I will forgive you, and hope you will be honest in the future; but Mrs. White and the children must be properly whipped and corrected. They must attend me here, dressed in their Sunday clothes, at seven o'clock this evening. Now you understand. Go home till then. I will cure them of thieving, or my name's not Rosa Coote."

Poor White and his wife are covered with confusion and retire for the present, whilst I congratulate Mdlle. Fosse on our good fortune in securing such victims.

Seven o'clock, and I am ready in the punishment chamber to receive the culprits. They enter with a very dejected appearance, although dressed smartly in the highest style of rustic fashion with their bouquets.

Miss Coote. - "I am glad, for your sake, Mrs. White, you have left me to punish you, as I hope after this you will be thoroughly trustworthy. Mademoiselle Fosse, will you assist Jane in preparing Minnie for the birch? Stop! Tie Mrs. White to the ladder, or her motherly feelings may cause her to interfere, then get Lucy ready also. If they haven't got drawers on, we must find a pair for each of them."

Mrs. White (with tears in her eyes). - "Oh! Oh! Miss Coote, my dear young lady, don't be too hard on the children. Cut me to pieces rather."

She is soon tied by her wrists to the ladder, but left as she is, in all her clothes, for the present. Then they strip little Minnie and Lucy, and expose their pretty plump figures to our gaze. Mademoiselle takes Lucy on her knee, and I have the youngest, Minnie, only nine years old. The little creatures are all blushes, and quite crimson with shame as we turn them on our laps bottom upwards. They are evidently quite unused to inspection by strange ladies.

Miss Coote (to Minnie). - "How you do blush, my dear; are you afraid I shall hurt you so much? What a lovely little bottom, does your mother often slap it?" giving two or three fair spanks, which very much improve the lovely colour of the firm flesh, and makes the little thing twist about beautifully, as she feels the smart.

Minnie. - "Oh! Oh! Pray don't! How you hurt! I can't bear it, Miss Coote," beginning to cry, and the pearly tears dropping on my lap.

Mademoiselle. - " So you little girls sold the fruit for your mother; did you, Lucy?"

Lucy. - "Father gave it to us to carry home."

Mademoiselle. - "The old story of Adam and Eve. One tempted the other. So it was all father; mother quite innocent, eh?"

Miss Coote. - "I think I can make Minnie tell us a different tale to that, Mdlle. Fosse. They are little story-tellers as well as thieves," giving Minnie a good slap with her open hand. "Just try my plan, Mademoiselle."

Minnie shrieks and kicks about in pain as Miss Coote slaps away, and Mademoiselle does the same by Lucy, till both their bottoms are as rosy as peaches. Both little girls screaming loudly for mercy; laying the blame first on father, and then mother, as they find it is no use to deny it.

"Now, Jane," says Miss Coote, "hand us a couple of light birches. We must thoroughly cure them before they are let off." Then taking hold of the birch, she directs Jane to tie both little victims to the whipping post, and puts a tight pair of drawers on each to hide their blushing rumps.

Jane ties them up, side by side, by their wrists, the arms well stretched above their heads, and their toes only just reaching the floor. Then she produces two little pairs of very thin lawn drawers almost as delicate as muslin, so that the rosy flesh was slightly perceptible through the material. They were, if anything, rather too small, and fitted quite tightly (the youthful bottoms are so finely developed, considering the age of their owners) and leave a space of nearly six inches wide behind, where they gave a delightfully seductive view of the pink roseate flesh and the cracks of the anus; altogether their shamefaced confusion and distress, as they gracefully lift their little legs, one by one, into the drawers, and go through all three positions Jane manages to put them in, as she fastidiously arranges them for sacrifice, was a most delightful sight to me, gloating as I was in the anticipation of the pleasure the whipping would be sure to afford.

Miss Coote. - "Now, Mademoiselle, will you assist me in the whipping? I will do all the talking."

The mother here is so distressed at the sight of her children tied up for whipping that she tries to fall on her knees, but soon remembers herself, when her hands being tied up prevent her intention. "Oh! Oh! Miss Coote, do have mercy on my little girls," she sobs. "To think I should bring this on them. Oh! Oh!" trying to wring her hands.

Miss Coote. - "Hold your foolish noise, woman. I'm just going to begin. How do you like it, Minnie? How is it, Lucy?" beginning to switch them finely, soon making a lot of thin red marks all over their backs and bottoms. "Will you ever take my fruit again, you little hussies? Warm their bottoms well for them, Mademoiselle. Take the thieving impudence out of their posteriors."

The victims shriek in a series of shrill screams, their faces are scarlet, and the tears roll in a little stream down their pretty pitiful faces, and they beg and pray to be let off. "Oh! Oh! we will be good, &c."

Miss Coote and her friend are delighted; the sight is so stimulating, their blood rushes through their veins and raises their voluptuous feelings of sensuality to the highest pitch, the cries of pain are so much music to their ears, and they cut the little bottoms dreadfully till the blood starts from the weals; the poor agonized mother is another spirit, which only adds to their enjoyment, as although only a spectator she seems to feel every blow, and cries and sobs as if her heart would break.

Mademoiselle. - "Look at the silly woman, you'll have something to cry for presently, Mrs. White."

The thin drawers are cut up, and torn into rags, the birches almost worn out, and the two flagellatrices would never have stopped, but Jane interposes, for little Minnie has fainted, and Lucy seems likely to go off too.

They untie them, and with a little water and pungent smelling salts soon revive the little one, then both mother and children are refreshed by some champagne, slightly dashed with a most stimulating liqueur.

Mrs. White, who had also been released, nurses her children on her lap. Caressing and kissing them, crying and hysterically sobbing over their sore bottoms. "Poor little dears; oh! Miss Coote, you have been cruel to the innocent things,"

Miss Coote. - "How dare you say innocent things when you taught them to steal. I'll make you confess your guilt, you bad woman."

Mrs. White, all of a tremble. - "Oh! My heart bleeds for their poor rumps, I can't help what I say."

Miss Coote. - "Take them away, and let Mary see to their bruises, then come back and help us to cheer up the mother a little; she's dreadfully depressed, poor thing," laughing ironically at Mrs. White.

Jane soon returns, and begins to prepare the mother for her punishment.

Miss Coote. - "Stretch her properly on the ladder; she's the worst of the lot, first tempting her husband, and then making the children help to steal."

Mrs. White. - "Oh! I didn't think you cared about the garden-stuff, it would have been spoilt."

Miss Coote. - "Then why didn't your husband ask me what to do with it? Did you not use the money to buy ribbons and dresses?"

The poor woman groans for very shame, and has nothing to say for herself. Jane and Mademoiselle pull off her bright blue dress, and expose a fine pair of white shoulders, showing that her blushes have extended all down her neck, which slightly flushed as they uncover it. She is a fine woman with reddish brown hair and hazel eyes, fine plump arms, and hands which do not look as if they worked too hard at home, her underclothing, skirts, and petticoats, although not of the finest material, are beautifully white and tastefully trimmed with cheap lace; they soon remove everything, and find her quite sans culottes like the little girls; the poor woman blushes scarlet at the exposure of all her luscious-looking charms, her splendid prominent mount being covered with a profusion of long, curly hair, similar to what she has on her head.

Miss Coote. - "My gracious, Mrs. White, how could you come here for a whipping and have nothing on to cover your modesty; it's shockingly indelicate; what can we do?"

Mademoiselle. - "I guessed what would happen; look here, Miss Coote, I amused myself before dinner, and have made her an apron of real fresh vine leaves; how pretty they will look on her, and set off the pink flesh."

The poor woman fairly sobs with shame at our remarks, and laughing jokes about what a fine set of rumpsteaks she has got, and how nicely they will be grilled for her. They adjust the apron of vine leaves very tastefully about her loins, and then present her to me, to kiss the rod, a fine heavy bunch of long, green fresh birchen twigs, tastefully ornamented with gaily coloured ribbons. She is made to kneel, and giving the required kiss, stammer out as whispered in her ear by Jane. "Oh! Oh! My dear young lady - Miss Coote - do - whip me - soundly - for I have been a wicked - dishonest woman. Oh! Oh! forgive me, don't be too hard," she exclaims, forgetting the orders and in a tremble of anticipation, the tears coursing down her scarlet cheeks, as she gets upon her feet; and they lay her at full length along the ladder, which is at a great angle, both arms and feet stretched out as far as possible, and tied tightly so she can scarcely move her bottom, or wriggle in the least.

All being in readiness:-

Miss Coote. - "You have only half confessed your guilt, but your bottom well warmed will bring you to a full sense of it," as she waves the tremendous rod about and makes it fairly hiss through the air, keeping the victim in agitated expectation for several seconds, when - whack - whack - whack.

Three resounding blows sound through the room, the victim's bottom immediately shows the result of a confused appearance of long red marks and weals, whilst the green leaves are flying in all directions.

Mrs. White, screaming in dreadful pain. - "Ah! Oh! Ah-r-r-re! I can't bear it! Oh! Oh! Spare me, have mercy!" The muscles of her back and loins showing by their contortions the agonizing sensations caused by the cuts in her distended and distressing position.

Miss Coote. - "How she screams! Where's your courage? why the little girls bore it better than you do; scream away, it will keep you from thinking too much of the pain, I'm only just beginning and have not got warm to my work yet," going on whack - whack - swish - swish, all the while.

Victim. - "Oh! Oh! Frightful! Oh! you'll kill me! do have mercy now."

Miss Coote. - "You bad woman, will you be a thief again? will you bring your little ones up to be honest in future? what do you think of a good birching, does it make your posteriors feel warm?" cutting blow after blow, with great force and deliberation; the poor woman is in most excruciating pain, and sobs and moans in her distress.

Victim, hysterically. - "Oh! Oh! I know I deserve it. Oh! I will never do it again. Oh! Ah-r-re, how terrible, I feel like being burnt with hot irons!" The blood flows freely from the often bruised weals, and the operator varies her blows so as to inflict the greatest possible torture on the poor woman by cutting her round the loins, making long weals over the lower part of her belly, and stinging the front dreadfully, then across the tender thighs, making the tips of the birch go well in between her legs, causing intense agony.

The fig leaves are all cut off and scattered, making the stems which have been interlaced look like an exploded fire-work as they still hang about her lacerated loins and buttocks; Miss Coote works herself up into a perfect fury of excitement, and cuts away regardless of the victim's apparent exhaustion, upbraiding her continually and making her promise to take her children to church regularly every Sunday in future, and pay particular attention to the seventh commandment, "Thou shalt not steal."

Mrs. White is almost too far gone to hear half of this objurgation, but slightly moans, "Oh! my God, I shall faint. Let me die in mercy. Thou shalt not steal. My God how I am punished," and fairly swoons under the rod, to the great pleasure of Jane and Mademoiselle, who have exquisitely enjoyed the scene.

The victim is released, when the marks on her wrists and ankles almost cut into the flesh by the tightly tied cords fully attest what she must have suffered from her fearfully stretched position, whilst her bottom and thighs and loins are a perfect pickle of weals and bleeding cuts; the drops of blood quite clotted the beautiful hair on her mount and round the red lips of her "Venus' wrinkle."

Jane and Mary and Polly sponge and relieve the poor woman's soreness, as well as they can, and revive her by plenty of cold water and fresh air, &c, and send her home refreshed by a little more champagne.

Next day, as I was walking the garden with my dear Mademoiselle, we asked White how his wife felt after her whipping, and being a blunt illiterate man he gave us young ladies rather an indelicate answer as follows:-

"I'm darned, Miss, I never had such a night before; I was abed and asleep before she got home with the children, but she was so hot she left them to shift for themselves, and mounted me as you often see the cow do to the bull when she wants him to do his duty; she didn't care how tired I was with my day's work, she was off and on all night. I can't understand her being so on heat, for we always leave that to quiet days like Sundays, but she said it was delightful. Darn me, though, if I liked it quite so much. We shall be having twins, or three or four at once after such a tarnation game as that."

I will send another letter soon, but one thing you must excuse in my rough composition; that is my so often speaking of myself in the third person, which makes it easier to tell my tale.

Yours affectionately. ROSA BELINDA COOTE.

(To be continued.)