From the Top Shelf - Forbidden Reading

Today's erotic fiction comes from a French novella translated into English and called Sweet Sixteen, or the Romance of Family Chastisement. The nineteenth century author is unknown, but judging from this lively passage, he or she was quite familiar with corporal punishment. I did a bit of research and found that if Marie had been reading the book pictured above, she might have found it quite entertaining. Still, it had been banned, so it was not at all appropriate for a young lady to read.

"A Book of Voltaire!" exclaimed Mr. Bordumien, recoiling, "And where did she get that?"

"I have not had time to ask her," replied his wife, "but we will do so at once! In any case, Marie deserves punishment. Claire has received hers. I want you to whip her severely. I am not strong enough to manage such a big girl, and besides, coming from you it will have a much greater effect!"

"My dear, you may be sure that she will get a whipping and a good one...a book of Voltaire...did you ever...my Lord she deserves a hiding!"

"Come with me up to her room," concluded his wife, "You will punish her up there!" handing Mr. Bordumien a bundle of twigs she had just pulled out of a new birch broom.

The two parents went towards Marie's room, and the girl felt her heart sink with apprehension when she saw her mother come into her room, and her father, his face an apoplectic red, carrying in his hand the famous birch, whose disciplinary functions she was well acquainted with, having often had experience of them, and not so very long ago. Madame Bordumien spoke first. Taking the little book out of her pocket she held it out to Marie, who felt the walls of the room swimming round her. "Can you tell me, Miss, where you found this horrible book?"

Marie, instead of replying, commenced to cry. "Will you tell me, where did you get this?" insisted her mother. Marie hid her face in her hands; her mother, advancing towards her, pulled her arms apart. The young girl, her face bathed in tears, stubbornly looked on the ground.

"Very well! You will not name the person who lent you this book. I'll count to three...one...two..all right...three. Good, your father is going to whip you and in such a fashion that you will remember it all your life!"

Mr. Bordumien, birch in hand, took a step towards his daughter.

"No! No!" cried Marie, quite frantic at the prospect. "No papa...papa...do not whip me! I will tell you...it...it was Alice who gave it to me...she told me not to speak of it. I have not read it, I swear! I gave it at once to Claire..."

"Why did you give it to Claire instead of returning it to your friend, Alice?" demanded Mr. Bordumien.

"I...I...don't know...I..."

"You don't know? Liar! Your mother was right in asking me to punish you severely and I am going to do it! Get ready...now!"

"No papa, no...ooooohhh..."

The exclamation was occasioned by the fact that Mr. Bordumien, without more ceremony, had seized the maiden by the waist, bent her in two and tucked her under his powerful arm as in a vice, in a position which held her body in a right angle, so that even her feet did not touch the ground. Mad with shame, literally overwhelmed by this dreadful catastrophe, the fair Marie permitted herself to be placed in the classic pose of a girl who was going to be spanked. Ah, but she was such a very light weight under the strong arm of her father. The very knowledge of her helplessness paralysed her. With her mother it would have been another matter, she would have struggled, screamed, thrown herself on the floor but now...

"Oh papa...no...no...not like that!" These cries were caused by the fact that Mr. Bordumien had just turned up her skirt and petticoat. Madame Bordumien assisted her husband by fixing the turned up clothes with a safety pin, then the father raised his hand over a plump, shapely bottom, carefully wrapped like an exquisite bonbon, in the dainty covering of a schoolgirl's little drawers, quite plain, with lace around the knees.

"Won't you take her drawers off?" demanded Madame Bordumien.

"No, she is too big," came the reply. "Besides that won't stop her feeling what I intend to give her!"

Smack! Smack! Smack! The heavy hand, big as a shoulder of mutton, fell regularly, sometimes on one, sometimes on the other cheek of the girl's behind, painfully exposed to the blows.

The thin material of her drawers, if it did to some extent protect the extreme modesty of the girl, was certainly no defence against the blows. Each smack as it fell on her bottom hurt terribly, a frightful smarting sensation making her yell.

Twisting her supple body, kicking her legs to right and left, in spite of her most desperate efforts she did not succeed in protecting her fleshy bottom from the rain of blows which, with horrible regularity, always fell on the same place.

A heavier smack than usual drove her frantic. She gave a piercing scream and, with a mad unconscious movement, she half turned and bit her father's wrist!

At the pain, Mr. Bordumien almost let her fall.

"She has bitten me! She has bitten her father, the little pup!" he cried. "Suzanne, pass me the birch!"

Without a word, Madame Bordumien picked up the twigs and handed them to her husband.

Mr. Bordumien grasped the bundle of twigs in his hand and prepared to whip his daughter's bottom soundly, having replaced her in position with a twist, grasping her waist till she could scarcely breathe.

"Wait a moment," said Madame Bordumien grimly, "she deserves this!" She approached Marie, whose pretty white stockinged legs were waving in the air, and, whilst keeping clear so as not to be caught by one of the unhappy girl's lunges, she slipped her hands under Marie's belly and untied her drawers which she pulled down to the girl's ankles, despite the squeals of shame and appeals for mercy that ensued.

The chemise covered Marie's bottom with its light batiste curtain. The mother raised this last veil and tucked it over the hips of the victim then withdrew. Mr.Bordumien had before him, shamefully naked, exposing its already scarlet cheeks with indecent arrogance, the prettiest female bottom that anyone could wish to see!

Before this charming spectacle, Mr. Bordumien hesitated for a moment, for he could not but be affected by the graceful proportions of his daughter. A glance from his wife called forth the necessary energy. He seized the birch in his hand and laid it on with a will, cutting into the appetising apple before him. The beautiful delicate moon, the ravishing young buttocks whose central furrow, shaded with warm tones, curved inwards towards the thighs in a darkness full of perfumed mystery.

At the first cut of the birch striking squarely across her naked bottom, already swollen by the preceding spanking, Marie screamed with all her might, so loudly that the servant came upstairs and opened the door. When she saw it was merely young Marie receiving a whipping, she paused and grinned, then went back down to the kitchen.

Servants get used to seeing that sort of thing all the time.