It's a hot day and I'm feeling thirsty, so here is a collection of bottles that might do the trick.
Miss Gin's blog to find out the reason for such a fine gift.
2 hours ago
It had been Roderick's idea to take me on what he called 'a pilgrimage', and when I had asked him where, he had put his finger to his lips and murmured mysteriously, "Wait and see!"A willing sacrifice indeed!
After several miles of hot, exhausting climbing I realised from the direction we were heading in that he was leading me to the Dragon's Teeth - the rock strewn ridge forever brooding down at us from the steep horizon. Local folk shunned this place. It was reputedly haunted by the devil himself. It was also commonly believed that all the ill weather - thunder, lightning, fog and tempests - was bred and nurtured high on that barren peak.
Happily there were no storms looming on that July day. The sky was cobalt-blue. Gossamer clouds floated like lazy galleons above the encompassing hills. The air was heavy with summer. Hand in hand Roderick and I toiled towards the distant rock summit while all around us stretched a crimson sea of heather. Birds shrieked overhead, wheeling and plunging in the wind that forever blows in those hills. Soon the valleys and the plain below were lost to view, cut off by the high plateau that surrounded us. On the extreme western horizon we could just discern the hazy peak of Cader Idris.
On the way, Roderick told me a little about the customs in pagan times, of which he said he had to make a study. Today, he declared, we would re-enact one of the most ancient rites - the rite of sacrifice!
I was both intrigued and more than slightly apprehensive, since he refused to give any explanation whatsoever as to his meaning...
At that moment we clambered up into the very jaws of the Dragon's Teeth. To our right lay the stupendous mound of rocks known as Lucifer's Throne, while at our feet the plain far below stretched away into seeming infinity.
Suddenly the world down there seemed a hostile, perilous place - and I clung to Roderick for safety and protection. "I am so frightened by what the future might hold in store for me," I murmured softly, seeking reassurance from the warm virile strength of his body. "I wish we could be together always."
Far below us to the west, the land was gashed as far as the eye could see by mountainous masses, like waves on a troubled sea, while above, grey and white fleeced clouds scurried over our heads.
I felt tiny, insignificant, and frighteningly vulnerable - even though my darling was there by my side, Aware of my fears, Roderick roughly flung me into an enormous bear-hug and kissed me so fiercely that one by one all my terrors and anxieties melted away.
Then the wind gathered itself into one great malicious gust and blew my frock and petticoat up above my thighs, revealing the tops of my black stockings and my spotlessly white linen drawers. I cried out in embarrassment - more so when Roderick, delighted by the sudden disorder in my dress, placed his hands under my ballooning skirts and, swiftly loosening my drawers, tore them down to below my knees.
"Roderick no! Not here in the open air where people can see!" I shrieked. Naked from the waist down I vainly wrestled with my captor as he laughingly dragged me towards the silent brooding bulk of Lucifer's Throne. The black rocks that rudely formed the shape of a gigantic chair had been so chiselled by the elements until they resembled the contorted faces of malignant beasts.
He pushed me face downwards across the seat of the throne so that my bare bottom was bent up at a shockingly immodest angle. To no avail did I struggle and kick my black-stockinged legs, for he held me securely pinned by the waist.
"Don't do it here, please Roderick - I beg you!" I implored, guessing his intention. But my feeble voice was borne rapidly away by the onrush of the wind.
"The Dragon's Teeth demand a sacrifice!" he chanted solemnly, running his hand over my shamefully naked bottom and down between my thighs. The more I protested and struggled, the more excited and carried away he became.
He plucked a supple bracken frond growing at his feet and measured it across the roundness of my squirming posterior. "In pagan times," he declared, intoning the words slowly as though they were part of a ritual, "the high priest would sacrifice a beautiful maiden to the gods by spilling her blood.." then he chuckled merrily and his voice once more became Roderick's, "...but this particular high priest proposes nothing more sacrificial for his lovely victim than a well whipped bottom!" and he commenced warming my bare backside with a series of deft, swishy strokes with the wand that, although not exactly painful, nevertheless made me yelp and wriggle in great abandonment.
I would never have admitted it, but in truth I found the role of sacrificial victim in which he cast me immensely exciting. Added to that, I felt by then that I could trust him sufficiently not to exceed all bounds and inflict real injury to my person.
"Swish! Swish! Swish!" said the busy little wand, heating up the flesh of my buttocks and creating darts of exquisite pleasure that stung my sex, making it throb and pulsate with awakened desire.
The sacrificial weapon continued to hum as it gradually broke down all the barriers of my maidenly resistance, high up there on that primeval rocky ridge. My bottom began to feel as if it had been pricked all over with needles. My legs grew weak and ceased to kick.....
He drew me even further over the seat of the throne so that my legs dangled helplessly - then, pushing them wide apart, he aimed his swishy wand at the lips of my sex, invoking incredible sensations with delicate little strokes which opened and moistened my sensitive slit.
I groaned and dilated involuntarily as the excruciatingly delicious torment impelled me nearer and nearer towards a wild consummation which, when it came, tore through my body as though it were the Golden Arrow itself - that burnished shaft of ancient Welsh border country legend that wounds before it can heal...
With my poor bottom still red and stinging from the myriad blows of his little love-birch, Roderick laid me down amid the springy heather. He released his burgeoning penis from the tight confines of his trousers, swiftly penetrated me, and soon our mingled juices overflowed and ran down into the rocky soil beneath our spread-eagled bodies - like blood from a freshly donated sacrifice...
By the following morning, though the birch weals were still humiliatingly emblazoned across my bottom, the soreness itself had thankfully eased, and I felt well enough to walk into town. I was just coming out of the drapers shop, where I had been buying a new white petticoat to replace the one that had been ruined, when I suddenly found myself face to face with Roderick Smallwood, the Doctor's son. We had not met for years - since, in fact, he had left Bishops Stanton to go to boarding school. He was much taller now, agreeably sun-tanned, and even more good-looking than when I had seen him last.
"Why, Ellen Roberts!" he declared with delight. "I'd recognise that sweet smile and pretty face of yours anywhere!"
I blushed hotly and didn't quite know what to say, for he looked such a magnificent gentleman with his mane of long fair hair and a full, thick beard. Awkwardly I held out my hand but, instead of shaking it, he stooped, took it gently in his hand and kissed it lingeringly. "By Jove, Ellen, you always were by far the prettiest girl in my father's school, and now you've grown into a real beauty! Tell me," he added with a wicked chuckle,"does my father still take his cane to your shapely bottom when you're a naughty girl?"
I blushed more furiously than ever. Fancy a young man saying a thing like that to me! Had he no sense of propriety? But then Roderick had always been such a terrible tease, it was one of the things I liked about him.
I could feel Roderick growing more and more excited with every second. "Ellen," he growled huskily, "you are a very wicked girl to drive me out of my senses like this, and I've a good mind to make this naughty little bottom of yours pay the penalty it so richly deserves!" and he drew back his hand and delivered a resounding slap right across the prominence of both my buttocks.
Straight away I winced and cried out in pain. Although my birching had taken place several days before, my poor bottom was still quite sensitively tender, and Roderick's playful slap had taken me completely by surprise.
"Ellen whatever is the matter?" Roderick demanded in a voice full of tender concern. "I didn't mean at all to hurt you - it was only a lover's pat!"
"And does your bottom still hurt?" he enquired with a perceptible tremor in his voice.
"Oh, er, only when I sit down, or if someone should slap it like you did...not that anyone else has done so," I assured him hastily, the blush on my cheeks fiercer than ever.
"I-I don't understand what you mean, " I stammered blankly.
"I mean I want you to take down your drawers, Ellen, so that I may inspect your naked bottom.....properly!"
"Roderick!" I squealed, my face burning with embarrassment.
"My dear girl, it may need some medical attention...heaven knows what damage that brutal flogging may have done to it!" he concluded, authoritatively and with aplomb - as though the baring of my bottom in his presence were a perfectly normal and everyday occurrence!
"Oh no - Roderick, please!" I wailed in alarm, but already he was doing the job for me, untying the drawstrings at my waist with nimble skill, so that my dainty white cambric drawers fell rustling to my ankles. Next he seated himself on a velvet padded chair near the bed and drew me firmly across his knee as though I were his naughty girl whom he was going to discipline.
Completely taken aback by his briskly confident handling of my half naked body I managed to splutter out: "Oh wh-what are you doing to me?"
"Please don't be alarmed, Ellen," came his calm self-assured voice from somewhere above me. "I have put you into this seemingly disciplinary posture solely in order to make your bottom accessible for examination - nothing more." I was too dumbstruck - and far too embarrassed - to make any reply whatsoever.
I lay helplessly upended over his lap, the blood rushing to my temples and my long chestnut hair trailing in my eyes. My nose was inches away from the Persian carpet and I had to brace my body with my hands lest I toppled to the floor.
"Why, my poor Ellen," Roderick murmured hoarsely, almost choking on the passion which the sight of my naked bottom was arousing within him, "you suffered a very cruel birching indeed!" He traced with his trembling fingers the dull mottled pattern of fading birch weals. "Thank God your adorable bottom has sustained no permanent harm," he added with a sigh of relief, "and in a week or so it will be quite restored to its former unblemished glory!"
His hot hands, shaking with barely suppressed excitement, roamed hither and thither over the smooth round cheeks of my bottom - wreaking havoc with my dignity and self composure. The humiliation of being thus revealingly draped over my lover's knee made me feel almost sick with a wild intoxicated trepidation.
"Please, Roderick, let me get up, this is so shamefully indecent!" I panted blushingly, thinking it only proper that I should make at least a show of protest. But it could not have sounded very convincing because, if anything, he became even bolder and began slapping me lightly, first on one buttock and then the other, saying; "Is this painful, Ellen? Be honest with me, for I need to know so I may diagnose the severity of the bruising." I told him the truth, or rather part of it, that the gentle teasing taps of his palms against my bottom were not causing me any pain - although of course I omitted to mention how unbearably aroused the slapping was making me become.
He started to smack me harder - almost spank me: "....to improve the circulation of the blood around the bruised regions of the flesh.." or so he told me. This caused me to moan and wriggle involuntarily - and as I wriggled I again felt his great stiff weapon pressing up urgently against my belly.
He kept reassuring me and telling me excitedly what a pretty bottom I possessed, how much he loved it, how he would never knowingly injure it or do it harm - and how healthily beneficial it was for a lovely young girl like me to have her bottom thus spanked until it was pinkly glowing all over.
"Stop...oh my goodness, Roderick...oh please stop!" I wailed, acutely conscious of how wet I was becoming - and terribly anxious that he should not discover my shameful lubricity...yet at the same time secretly hoping that he would.
And he did. After his strong muscular palm ceased to fall upon my hot, throbbing bottom he turned his attentions to a lower, even more shamefully intimate area of my person...which he stroked and tickled so thoroughly that I sobbed with guilty delight and commenced to rub and grind my tormented pubis up and down on his greedy ravishing fingers... I felt as if I was going to faint, and from somewhere within the depths of my consciousness I heard myself screaming. I was aware of his other hand covering my mouth to stifle the screams - and I bit his finger in wild abandonment.
He called me a wilful mischievous girl for doing such a thing, and said I deserved to be punished for it. He...started spanking me again - this time hard enough to really hurt and sting like mad.
The spanking brought me to my senses almost immediately. In my mouth I could taste the blood from his finger which I had bitten so hard and, racked with guilt at having done such a dreadful thing, I begged him frantically to spank me with all the might of his arm so that I might atone for my sins.
The hard punishing spanks landed explosively upon my poor aching bottom and echoed around the spacious bedroom. Fortunately we were alone in the house - but the window was open and I was terrified that the spanking could be heard from the road.
Roderick chastised me so lustily that soon my bottom began to feel that it was on fire. Yet there was no cruelty at all in his behaviour. He was belabouring my madly cavorting bottom in pure sensual delight - knowing full well from my cries of encouragement that I was revelling in it as much as he was.
Then, when at last I cried shrilly that my crimson burning bottom could take no more of his gloriously dominant discipline, he picked me up bodily, carried me over to the bed, deposited me there on my back, and commenced feverishly to remove his clothes.