Story from London Life Vol.1 No.3.
by Christopher James
My husband Hugh is a civil engineer, and we were thrilled when he landed a one-year contract job on the East African coast. His firm provided him with a lovely furnished bungalow in a secluded place near the white sands and coral reef of the Indian Ocean shore, and we settled down to what was going to be, for me at least, a blissful holiday in the sun. Our cook was a large cheerful African named Joku who lived with his family in a near-by village and came every day to attend to the kitchen and do the shopping in the local market. In addition Hugh and I were able to employ a black mission girl, Amelia, who helped me with the laundry and housework. She had her own bedroom beyond the kitchen, and it was nice for me to know that there was someone else in the house during the long hot afternoons when Hugh was usually at work and Joku in his village.
Amelia was a very attractive girl with fine features, a dark chocolate skin, slender arms and legs, a slim waist, and a superb and very firm and fully-formed bust and a bottom to match. I too am well developed for my twenty two years (that's why Hugh was first drawn towards me!), but for figure appeal I must admit that I'm not in the same class as Amelia.
During slack periods Hugh sometimes managed to spend the afternoon at the bungalow instead of returning to the site, so after lunch, when Joku had gone back to his village and Amelia to her bedroom, Hugh and I were able to make love and indulge in our mutual liking for spanking games. We had various weapons for these – a zippy rattan cane about eighteen inches long and a plaited riding switch for me to use on Hugh; and a thin light bamboo and a cat o' nine tails of very soft wide leather strips which I had got Hugh to make specially for him to use on me.
Each of us had a little notebook, and during the days between whipping sessions the idea was for Hugh to record any real or imaginary complaints he had against me, while I noted my complaints against him, with a scale of penalties to he paid for at our next whipping session. I always thought it was a bit unfair of Hugh to make me take six strokes of the bamboo every time he found my panties were a little moist and odorous – almost impossible to avoid in that heat, even with a clean pair on only an hour. But Hugh thought the same about six of the best with the rattan for having a scratchy chin, considering how fast whiskers grow in the tropics!
One peaceful afternoon Hugh and I were in the bedroom, with Joku off the premises and Amelia enjoying, as we supposed, her afternoon siesta in her room. We first checked that Amelia had remembered to put the usual tray with glasses of cool fresh coconut juice in our bedroom. I began proceedings by removing Hugh's shorts (all he was wearing), and he stripped me of my bikini top and pants – my usual wear in the house during the day. After some hugs and romps which had their usual stimulating effect, we took out our notebooks from their hiding places – we always hid them between sessions so that neither of us would know what was in store at the "moment of truth".
My first complaint was that the last time we made love Hugh had not had a bath beforehand: Hugh could not deny it, and I awarded four cuts with the riding switch. He obediently lay face down on the bed and I applied the strokes really hard on his firm compact buttocks, making four parallel bright red lines on each. Hugh's excitement was visible as soon as he rolled over on his back!
We then had refreshing drinks from the tray, after which it was Hugh's turn to award me six lashes with the leather cat for making eyes at a handsome colleague of Hugh's at the club two evenings before, and a further eight cuts of the bamboo for wearing no bra that same evening and leaving the top buttons of my dress undone – quite true, I'm afraid, but it was so cool and it looked lovely.
'Down you go,' said Hugh, 'and pay the penalty.' I meekly draped myself face down on the bed with my hands under me between my thighs – this was not only to apply suitable pressure in case I wetted myself, but also to avoid flailing my arms about and getting them hurt in the caning. Hugh took his time with the cat, counting up to ten between each stroke. It seemed ages until the six strokes were applied. He used all his force, but the leather is so wide and soft that after the sharp sting of the first two strokes the remaining four produced only a rhythmical throb in my pelvis which cannot have escaped Hugh's attention.
'Now I want you bending over the back of the chair with legs well apart,' Hugh said, 'so that your buttocks are really sticking out well for the bamboo.' I took up the required position and opened my legs really wide to give him a good view, for I knew that this was the sort of sight he always pored over in the girly magazines. He picked up the bamboo and swished it noisily in the air to give me a foretaste of what was to come. Then – crack! – the first cut landed right across the middle of my bottom already pink and glowing from the cat. After a momentary shock of searing pain, a surge of pleasure followed. Hugh resumed his noisy swishing of the bamboo to achieve the maximum effect of the well-earned punishment but in stepping back to get more room for his cane-swishing act he clumsily knocked over the tray and empty glasses with a loud crash. 'Six with the rattan for you,' I said, 'when you have finished reddening my bottom. I cannot excuse such clumsiness, especially when it arose from your cane-swishing performance.'
Hugh resumed work with the bamboo, and, goaded by the prospect of more rattan on his own bottom to follow, put all his effort into the next blow and really stung my long-suffering buttocks. He was preparing to deliver the next stroke when there was a creak outside the door and an unmistakable giggle. Hugh was at the door in a flash, and there kneeling, with eye at keyhole level, was Amelia!
Hugh, forgetting his nakedness and his all-too-apparent excited physical state, pulled Amelia into the room to explain herself as I hastily draped a bath towel round me and attempted with another towel to conceal Hugh's very prominent attractions from Amelia's frankly admiring eyes. 'Very sorry, memsahib,' she stammered, 'me hear tin tray and glasses crash down. Me come clean up mess.' 'Very thoughtful of you, I'm sure,' said I to Amelia, 'but why didn't you just knock on the door? It was very naughty of you to spy through the keyhole. Surely that wasn't what you were taught at the mission school which recommended you to me? I shall have to complain to the sister-in-charge of the school and tell her that I have no alternative to discharging you from my service.'
'Oh, no, memsahib, please do not tell school missy – she very fierce. And please don't send me away from this job – I must have my wages to send to my mother.' 'I am sorry, Amelia,' I said, 'but I really don't see how I can keep you after what you have done.' 'Oh, please, memsahib, I do anything you want if you let me stay,' said Amelia tearfully. 'I know I very bad girl to look at memsahib and bwana through keyhole. But you can punish me with whipping me in same way I see you and bwana whipping, then I can stay here working for you.'
'Well, Amelia,' I said, 'if you are quite sure that is what you want, bwana and I will talk about it and decide whether we can agree with your suggestion, though we really ought to sack you at once.'
'I think it's very sensible of Amelia,' Hugh said to me, 'we should give her a good whipping and let her stay. Is that OK by you?' 'Yes, Hugh, I entirely agree. She's a nice hard-working girl and a good companion for me. I don't want to lose her.' Turning to Amelia I said 'Very well, Amelia, a whipping it shall be if you are quite sure you know what that means. Bwana and I still have some unfinished business to complete with each other now, so we will punish you this evening after supper when Joku has gone home, for I don't think we should let him know anything of what you have done or of how we are punishing you.'
'Oh, bwana,' cried Amelia, kneeling in front of Hugh, 'I don't want to wait until after supper – I get all nervous, maybe I drop dishes at supper. Please ask memsahib let me be punished at once and get it over.' 'Perhaps we'd better agree, Hugh,' I said. 'I'll defer my six with the rattan on your bottom until our next whipping session. That'll give us more time now to punish Amelia properly.' 'You needn't do that,' said Hugh, 'let Amelia get a good sight of what is in store for her, and her punishment will have all the more effect!'
That being agreed, we sent Amelia off to the toilet to avoid risk of accidents during the whipping, as I knew from personal experience that it was all too easy to wet oneself on such occasions. When she came back, we told her to remove her panties, but she giggled and lifted her skirt to show us that she wasn't wearing any. As Hugh and I were without clothes for our own whipping, she no doubt felt that that was the proper attire for such occasions, so she pulled her dress off over her head, revealing that she did not wear a bra either – not that her magnificent firm figure had any need of one. We turned her round to examine her bottom and found that she had no sores or broken skin which might be opened by caning – her skin was perfect and unblemished.
'Now, Hugh,' said I, 'off with that towel and down you go again to take the promised six with that rattan for upsetting the tray. And, Amelia, watch very closely, because this is what you are going to get too!'
Hugh enthusiastically complied as he was enjoying his punishment and wanted to show off in front of Amelia that he could take it without a murmur. I had for some time suspected that Hugh was getting "ideas" about Amelia for I had often seen his eyes following Amelia's provocative figure, so I determined to take him down a peg or two by making him flinch in front of her. Hugh was stretched out full length face down on the bed, with two pillows under his hips which I had arranged not only to give me a more prominent target to aim at but also to cope with the problem created by Hugh's great physical arousal. Amelia gazed intently at Hugh's buttocks as I made the first stroke of the rattan whistle through the air. It made a crack like a rifle shot on Hugh's bottom, and a narrow purple line at once showed across it. Hugh did not budge, but I distinctly saw him wink at Amelia. This nettled me, and I put all my strength into the second stroke which brought out another purple line neatly beside the first. Hugh winked again at Amelia, who gave another of her little giggles, even though she was clearly startled by the severity of the punishment and apprehensive about what she herself might be in for. The second wink was too much for me. Though I say it myself, I wield a pretty nifty and accurate cane, so I made the third and fourth cuts land dead straight on the purple lines already marking the first two strokes. This really brought Hugh to his senses and stopped his lascivious winking at Amelia: he uttered a roar of pain and started to roll over. I flung myself on his thighs to stop him, my towel coming undone in the process. 'Quick, Amelia,' I cried, 'sit astride his shoulders and press your hands on his back to keep him still. I know you haven't any clothes on, but it doesn't matter if his neck gets a bit sticky. The important thing is to keep him in position.'
Amelia enthusiastically did as she was told, and Hugh's head almost disappeared under Amelia's generous posteriors, muffling his cries of protest. 'Now, Hugh,' I said, 'these last two strokes will warn you not to wink at Amelia, and reward your clumsiness in knocking over the tray.' With Amelia's hands on the small of Hugh's back her nose was not far from the area of operations, so I had to be careful to aim accurately at my target without clipping Amelia in passing. Spurred by my jealousy and annoyance, the next stroke whistled through the air and landed with a sharp crack on the narrow strip of white skin between the marks of the previous strokes. The final stroke was a masterpiece of aim and strength. Hugh rolled over with a roar. Amelia, dislodged from Hugh's shoulders, landed with a thud on the floor and picked herself up with a cheerful grin.
'Now, Amelia,' I said, 'fetch me that bottle of witch hazel from the shelf – no, silly, not that blue one, the bottle with the white label on it.' She did so, and I told Hugh to lie down again on his face while Amelia and I took it in turn to apply the cooling salve to his inflamed posteriors, an attention which did much to allay the discoloration and pain. He then got up and wrapped his bath towel round his middle to stop Amelia getting any ideas in that direction.
In the ordinary way Hugh and I would have finished off our session with a spell of passionate lovemaking to round off our afternoon's favourite diversion, but we agreed to defer this until bedtime in order to be able to deal at once with Amelia's punishment.
'Amelia,' said Hugh, 'how does the mission punish you and the other girls when they are naughty?' 'Oh bwana,' said Amelia, 'school missy has thick leather tawse, and sometimes she use it on our hands – very bad thing because hands swell and we cannot hold pencil and do lessons. And sometimes she use tawse on our behinds and then we cannot sit down, but that not so bad as beating on hands.'
Hugh and I agreed that Amelia's preference for beating on the bottom – which is after all the natural place for corporal punishment – was sensible. As she was a girl, we decided that the proper implements to use on Amelia were my bamboo and cat o' nine tails, but we warned Amelia that if the first punishment did not make her mend her ways we might have to use the rattan and riding switch.
'This first time, Amelia,' I told her, 'I will give you twelve cuts with the cat o' nine tails to warm you up, and then bwana will give you six with the bamboo to make sure that you understand that spying through keyholes is naughty. Lie down on the bed like bwana did and keep quite still.'
Meanwhile Hugh took a dozen cowrie shells from a bowl on the dressing table (we collected them on the beach and used them to make necklaces) and arranged them in a neat row on the bedside table where Amelia could see them as she lay face down on the pillow. I stood on Amelia's left side. My first blow with the cat on her ample buttocks was a fairly gentle one as I wanted to work up gradually. Amelia did not stir. Hugh removed one cowrie. The next three strokes were progressively harder but still there was no move or sound from Amelia. By now there remained eight cowries which Amelia eyed with a faint smite. So far her skin showed not a trace of the cat – her dark African skin is very different from the pale skin of a European. I resolved that she must now be made to feel the punishment so, tired though my arm was from its previous work on Hugh, I mustered all my strength for the next two strokes: the tips of the thongs curled viciously round Amelia's buttocks, and at last I could see purple marks on her chocolate skin, and Amelia rolled over with a yell.
'This won't do, Amelia,' I said, 'if you want to stay here you must take your punishment in full and without flinching.' A rebellious look spread over her usually cheerful face. 'Hugh, your dressing gown cord, quick, and tie her feet to the end of the bed. Then sit on the pillow and hold her head in your lap and keep her shoulders down. And make sure your towel doesn't slip out of place!'
With Amelia thus trussed, I went round to her right side and continued the punishment. Each stroke I made as hard as I could and each one made her plump buttocks a little darker in colour, and after each stroke I removed one cowrie as Hugh's hands were now fully occupied with the control of Amelia's shoulders. Amelia, realising that she had no alternative, lay quiet and by the time we reached the ninth stroke she had an almost cheerful expression again on her face. The first sting of the lash was disappearing, and in its place she was experiencing the stimulating glow of warmth that Hugh and I so much enjoyed in our own games. When the full dozen strokes of the cat were completed she was smiling.
Now it was Hugh's turn with the cane. 'Amelia,' Hugh said, 'to show how brave you are, and to prove that you are really taking this punishment willingly, I want you to stand in the middle of the room with your legs apart and bend over and touch your toes.' Amelia, with a somewhat scared look on her face, did as she was told. 'If you take the six strokes from bwana without moving,' I said, 'your punishment will be over and you can stay in your job.' Amelia's position naturally gave Hugh a fine view of things which I hoped would not put him off his stroke and result in inadvertent damage to Amelia's assets!
Hugh took up the cane which had so often stung my own bottom, and swished it dramatically. 'One,' he called, and down it came across Amelia's upward-pointing bottom. A distinct dark line appeared where the cane had landed, running across her left buttock and continuing beyond the cleft in a straight line across the right buttock. Amelia did not stir. 'Two,' he cried, and the second stroke made a neat line parallel to the first and not more than quarter of an inch from it. Still no move from Amelia. 'Three,' called Hugh, and this time the muscles of Amelia's thighs and buttocks tightened. By looking between Amelia's spread legs I could see her face upside down and half hidden by the fall of her substantial bosom – her features gave no indication of the pain that she must be experiencing. The fourth stroke landed with great accuracy on the line of the first stroke and this time I could see a tear in the corner of each of Amelia's dark lustrous eyes. 'Only two more, Amelia,' I said, 'and then it's all over.'
The fifth stroke was a telling one, exactly on the line of the second stroke, and a spasm shook Amelia but she still did not alter her position. 'Six,' cried Hugh, and I must say that even I shuddered as he made the bamboo stream through the air and land with deadly accuracy on the line of the third stroke.
'You can stand up now, Amelia, and say you are sorry for looking through the keyhole. You are a good girl,' I said, 'and I'm very glad that you will still be working here. But don't forget that in the future any faults in your work will be dealt with by spankings and whippings for that is the way that bwana and I like to deal with things.'
'Now lie down on the bed and I'll rub some witch hazel into your bottom. The cat has done you no damage, but the bwana's bamboo has left three fine ridges which will last a day or two and remind you not to be naughty again.'
Hugh was about to apply the witch hazel to Amelia and I could see his fingers itching to stroke her attract bottom but I intervened smartly and sent him to put some clothes on. No doubt Amelia would have welcomed such attention from Hugh. It's clear that I'll have to keep a close eye on both of them.
I can foresee that sooner or later Hugh and Amelia will both he earning some severe punishment marks in my little notebook! Amelia is going to be quite an asset as a regular member of our future afternoon whipping sessions.