From the Top Shelf - Ellen and Roderick

This selection from Ellen's Story continues two days after Ellen's birching. You may remember from a previous excerpt the grinning boy watching Ellen's first punishment at school. That boy is all grown up now, and has returned home.

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.

Ellen and Roderick arrange to met the following Saturday. After a pleasant outing they find themselves alone in his house, and one thing leads to another. She does her best to hold him at bay, and he is not best pleased.

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!"

Ellen tells him about her recent ordeal with the treecutters. He is full of sympathy, but he is also aroused.

"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.

Roderick gently caresses her bottom on the pretext of discovering how sore it was, then decides he needs to conduct a more thorough examination.

"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.

You can guess what happens next.