Wednesday, May 22, 2019

From the Top Shelf - The Flogging of Annette

Today's extract comes from the classic novel Frank and I published in 1902 by Grove Press of New York which, you are probably aware, is about a spankophile who takes in a young 'boy' who turns out not to be!! This scene takes place after our trusty narrator has realised that 'Frank' is in fact 'Frances' and becomes sexually involved with her. They go on a visit to Paris as lovers, and on returning from a stroll to their hotel, they catch the chambermaid, Annette, stealing from their belongings.
When she saw us suddenly enter the room, she jumped up, turned very pale, and stood looking at us, utterly taken aback and trembling all over. She was a tall, slim, good looking girl about twenty one years old; with a trim figure, black hair and eyes, red lips and white teeth, and a saucy little nez retrousse. She had a clear olive complexion, and she was dressed in a well fitting black frock, with white apron, collar and cuffs, and her luxuriant hair was covered by a white frilled cap with scarlet ribbons.

Frances at once went to the toilet table, on which she had left her purse, but it was gone. When she informed me of the fact, I locked the door and put the key in my pocket.

Then I went to the trembling girl and searched her capacious pocket, finding in it the purse, half a dozen lace handkerchieves, the same number of pairs of gloves, and also a number of small articles she had taken out of the trunk. Had we not happened to return unexpectedly, and thus catch the thief red handed, we should never have known who had stolen the things.

Frances could not speak French, so I acted as spokesman, saying to the girl, "We have caught you nicely, Annette. You are a thief. What have you got to say for yourself before I send for the manager of the hotel and ask him to hand you over to the police?" I had no intention of doing any such thing, as the whole thing would have been a major bore, but I wanted to give the girl a fright.

She burst into floods of tears, wringing her hands, and exclaiming in a tone of entreaty " Oh, sir! Oh, sir! Don't give me to the police. I am an honest girl but I was suddenly tempted to do wrong when I saw the purse and the keys on the table. Oh do not have me arrested! Forgive me! Oh, please forgive me, I have an old mother to support. Oh please forgive me!"

She was in an awful funk and it suddenly struck me that there might be some fun to be had. I thought it very likely that, rather than go to gaol, she would let me flog her. At any rate I would give her the choice of the alternatives and I hoped she would choose the flogging. She was a clean looking, pretty girl and my cock stirred at the thought of turning her up, and reddening her bottom.

So, I said to her: "You are a thief, and therefore you must be punished, but I will not hand you over to the police if you will consent to receive a flogging, in the same way that we flog naughty girls in England." She stopped crying and looked at me for a moment, her big black eyes wide open, as if she hardly grasped the meaning of my words, then she said, in a tone of relief: "Oh sir, rather than go to prison and lose my good character, I will consent to receive any punishment you wish to inflict on me."

"Very well," I said. "But you must understand that I will flog you soundly."

She shuddered slightly and asked, in a shaky voice "But, sir, in what way do you intend to flog me?"

"I intend to flog your bare bottom." I replied.

She blushed scarlet, and again began to cry, saying in a horrified tone: "Oh but sir; when I said I would take the punishment, I did not think you intended to inflict it upon my bare person. I thought you would flog me over my clothes. You must not strip me. I cannot bear the exposure. It would be too shameful. Oh! I cannot suffer it."

"Well, if you will not submit to me entirely, I must send for the police," I said, walking to the bell rope and taking it in my hand.

"Oh, don't ring the bell! Wait a moment. Oh! What shall I do! Oh, please don't send for the police!" she wailed in a piteous tone, stretching out her arms with an imploring gesture towards me, while the tears ran down her flushed cheeks.

"I WILL ring the bell unless you consent to take a severe flogging on your bare bottom," I said sternly.

She wrung her hands and wept bitterly; then after a few moments hesitation, she sobbed out "Oh sir, it is shameful to be laid bare...but I cannot go to prison. I must...submit. Oh! Oh!"

Then turning her back to us, she covered her blushing face with her apron, and sobbed.

The girl's horror at the idea of her bottom being exposed was deep and unfeigned, for she was evidently a very modest girl. I must confess that the sight of her distress added piquancy to the whole affair. It always affords great pleasure to a lover of the rod, to flog a female culprit who appears to feel the shame of the exposure more than the pain of the whipping.

All the time the talk had been going on, Frances has stood looking interested, but not understanding a word that was said; and she now impatiently asked what I had been saying.

I told her that I had given Annette the alternative of going to gaol or taking a flogging, and that she had chosen the flogging.

"She deserves it," said Frances emphatically, and with rather a grim smile. Then, eagerly: "Let me flog her. You know I have been longing to inflict corporal punishment, and now there is a chance for me. Do let me flog her."

I smiled, for I could quite understand her desire to whip, and resolved to let her have her wish. "All right," I said, "I will horse her on my back, and you shall flog her."

Frances looked very pleased, and at once prepared for action by taking off her gloves , hat and jacket. Then she said: "We have got no rod, and I am not going to make my hand sore by spanking her, so you must find something for me to flog her with."

I looked around the room for some instrument of punishment, and my eyes fell on a pair of small rug straps, each about a couple of feet long and half an inch wide. One of them would do very well, as it would sting the culprit's bottom sharply without bruising the flesh.

So I pointed the straps out to Frances, and told her to take one of them. Annette was still standing with her back towards us, her apron was over her head, and she was crying. Going to her, I laid my hand on her shoulder, turned her round and drew her hands away from her face, saying :The lady - my wife - is going to flog you. So you are fortunate. Your punishment will not be as severe as if I was holding the strap. Now take off your dress and stays."

"Oh if only Monsieur would please leave the room I promise not to resist Madame while she flogs me," said Annette, clasping her hands and pleading pitifully.

"I will not leave the room. I am going to hold you while you are being punished. Now remove your dress and stays, and be quick or I will ring the bell."

She hesitated a moment, and I laid my hand again on the bell-rope, then, heaving a deep sigh, she slowly, with trembling fingers, took off the two garments, and stood before us, with her head lowered and with streaming eyes. As her chemise was cut rather low at the neck , I could see the division between her small but well rounded bubbies.

I had made her partly undress because, when a woman is 'horsed' for a flogging with her dress and stays on, it is very difficult to get her petticoats turned up high enough to bare her bottom in a satisfactory way.

At one side of the room, there was a large pier glass, and opposite it a wardrobe with a long mirror, and it struck me that if I stood between the two articles of furniture, I should be able to see the whole of the girl's body reflected in the looking-glass , and thus be able to witness the flogging.

"Now, Annette, I am going to take you on my back and hold you, while Madame flogs you." So saying, I went to the sobbing girl, who trembled and shrank away from me, but made no attempt at resistance. Seizing one of her wrists in each of my hands, I drew her arms over my shoulders, and then, stooping forward, raised her feet well off the floor, "horsing" her in proper style without any difficulty, for I am six feet in height and, although she was tall, she was not heavy.

"Now, Frances," I said, "the girl will be sure to kick and struggle when she feels the strap, so you must pin up her petticoats so that they will not fall down in the middle of her punishment."

Frances rolled the culprit's petticoats, which were white and clean, up to her shoulders, and pinned the garments securely. She wore her chemise under her drawers, which were tightly stretched over her bottom by the curve of her body, and, as I was between the two mirrors, I could see everything perfectly.

As Frances began to untie the girl's drawers, she sobbed out "Oh, Madame, don't take down my drawers!" The drawers were untied and pulled down to her knees. Then she made another appeal: "Oh please leave my chemise. Leave me some modesty. Do not strip me quite bare!"

The chemise was rolled up and pinned to the petticoats, leaving the girl naked from the middle of her back to the tops of her stockings and, as she felt her last garment removed, she uttered a low wailing cry of shame.

She had a small but well shaped bottom, slender thighs and slim legs, cased in tight, clean, white cotton stockings gartered at the middle of her thighs with black ribbons. Her ankles were trim, and she was wearing neat, well polished, shoes. Her olive tinted skin was very smooth, and it appeared to be fine in texture.

Everything being ready, I told the weeping culprit, who was shivering with shame and fear, that she must try and bear her punishment with fortitude, and not attract attention by making an outcry.

Frances took the strap and twisted part of it round her hand, leaving a length of about eighteen inches to flog with.

"Now, Frances," I said, "give her a couple of dozen strokes and lay them on smartly, but not too severely. Begin at the upper part of her bottom and flog down to her thighs, then up again to her loins. Keep cool, and don't cross the cuts."

Frances whirled the strap in the air, and as I looked in the glass in front of me, I could plainly see the girl's eyes dilate with fear, and I also noticed the cheeks of her bottom contract, the smooth skin assuming a rough appearance. Crack! The long piece of leather fell smartly across the girl's bottom, and both the olive tinted cheeks were instantly marked with a long red stripe, the exact breadth of the strap, the stinging pain making the culprit start convulsively on my back, and utter a stifled cry. Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack! Frances swung the strap with a graceful sweep of her arm, and as skilfully as if she had been a practised flogger; laying on the strokes with equal force, in slow time, one below the other, so that the red stripes were printed on Annette's skin at almost regular distances apart.

She plunged and wriggled, whimpered and sobbed; and I could feel her body quiver, and shrink against my back each time the stinging strap struck her bottom.

I had never before 'horsed' a girl, therefore it was a novel sensation, and a pleasing one, to feel her breasts and belly rubbing against my back, and the front of her thighs rubbing my bottom as she writhed in pain. Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack! She bounced about, twisting her hips from side to side; her flesh twitched at each stroke; she turned her head and looked over her shoulder, with an agonised expression on her face, as the strap hissed through the air over her bottom, then she gasped and cried, the tears running in streams down the scarlet cheeks. By this time, Frances had flogged down to the culprit's thighs, so that the whole of her bottom was prettily marked with alternate red and white stripes.

Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack! Frances was now flogging upwards. The sharp noise made by the strap as it struck the girl's firm flesh echoed through the room. She kicked up her heels in pain, struggling hard to free her wrists from my grasp, and though she did not scream, she moaned and cried piteously:

"Oh madame! Madame! Oh, chere madame! Pas - si - fort! Oh, pas - si - fort! Oh madame ayez pitie! J'en - ai - assez ! Oh ! Oh!OHHHH!!"

Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack! Her moans changed to low barely suppressed shrieks , and she threw her legs about so frantically that her drawers fell off completely, and in her now liberated writhes and plunges, I caught sight of the thick black hair at the junction of her thighs, her struggles becoming so violent that I had some difficulty in holding her in position.

Crack! CRACK! Frances laid on the last two strokes with a little extra force, extracting from the culprit two rather loud squeals; and now that the flogging was over, the whole surface of her bottom, from the loins to the thighs, was a bright mass of scarlet where one stripe had overlapped another.

Frances threw down the strap, and stood for a moment looking with an amused smile at the results of her handiwork, then she unpinned the girl's petticoats and let them fall. I released Annette's wrists and she stood on the floor, crying and twisting her loins with the smarting pain of her well whipped bottom. Her face was bright red and she looked very ashamed.

"Now, Annette, it is all over. You may go," I said.

She picked up her drawers, and turning aside, drew them over her legs and tied the string around her waist, then she put on her stays and dress, whimpering, sobbing, and wiping her streaming eyes with her apron, then she put her cap on straight and hurried out of the room.
Wasn't the detail exquisite!
From Hermione's Heart


Roz said...

Great story Hermione. Not sure about 'horsing' though. Love the writing!


ronnie said...


A delightful read. Very enjoyable. Thank you.


QBuzz said...

I googled to see what a rug strap looks like, and safe to say I don't think Annette will be stealing again! I wonder if he used it on Frances afterwards...