Greystones, 24 April 1904

My Dearest Lizzie,

     How differently we must think of my Uncle Brandon after my
adventures today! You might easily believe that he had owned
Greystones - Miss Martinet and the girls included - and that it was a
private seraglio with Miss M. as a Duenna!

     After breakfast my hostess led me across the sunlit lawns to the
brick stable with it's white cupola and clock. "We have two groups of
girls at Greystones," she said proudly, "first, the more refined young
ladies who are taught sewing or embroidery, and second, the young
women who are trained to be stable-girls."

     "Oh, aye," says I to myself, "Buxom young trollops well made for
vigorous riding and saddle work!"

     "Before you proceed to deal with our young ladies," went on Miss
M., "You must prove yourself with these saucy Amazons. That was always
your Uncle's rule."

     "Was it, by Jove!" I said. "Then I shall strive to be worthy of
it!"

     To speak well of Uncle Brandon is to win Miss M.'s heart. Do you
suppose, my sweet, that she had such a lech for the old fellow as to
supply him with young fillies to ride at Greystones?

     "I shall put two young women in your charge at first - Maggie and
Noreen," said she. "They need nothing less than a man's absolute
authority. For that reason, your dear departed uncle wished you to aid
in our good works."

     I smiled at the old fellows singular notion of good works. A
moment more and we entered the main stable door, viewing a well-kept
interior of red tiling, white painted rails and neatly piled straw.
Miss Martinet pointed out Maggie and Noreen to me, marking the
beginning of my remarkable acquaintance with them.

     I will not burden you with any more than the briefest
description of the two girls. Maggie was to prove a casual and
careless young slut compared with the staring insolence of Noreen.
What shall I say of Maggie? Her golden blond hair hung straight and
loose to her shoulders and was parted on her forehead in a long
fringe. She was twenty-three years old, I learnt, the pale oval of her
face marked by features that were firm and perhaps a little crude. Yet
you would admire the blue-green eyes and the lashes which she darkens
so skillfully. Maggie is a bewitching combination of the brazen slut
and the innocent child. She is firmly built, though not tall. Her lack
of height gives her a coltish, almost stocky appearance. Yet her
thighs are taut and her hips firmly covered without being fat. Her
breasts are softly hung and Maggie's bottom-cheeks have the trim
maturity of womanhood. Though she wears no wedding ring, I'll wager
that Maggie's cunt has been well ridden.

     Noreen, by contrast, has an impudent stare and a resentful
manner. This pleases me, rather, for it will offer ample pretext for
discipline! Noreen is a trollop of nineteen with no claim to
refinement. Would you picture her to yourself? Imagine quite a tall,
firmly made girl, her dark-brown hair worm straight and lank to the
level of her collar and cut in a level fringe on her forehead. Add to
this a set of strong, fair-skinned features and brown eyes of lazy
malevolence. Men who like a well-made filly to strap between the
shafts of love's chariot would stiffen at the sight or Noreen in her
tight working pants and singlet. Firm young breasts and straight back
are damply outlined by clinging blue cotton. Mow observe her from the
waist down: her belly is quite flat, her pubic mound a gentle swell.
Her thighs are lightly muscled, as if from work or exercise. Noreen's
bottom is certainly quite big-cheeked but without any surplus fat.

     "Deal firmly with them, Mr. Charles!" said Miss Martinet softly,
"Be worthy of your Uncle Brandon! Remember, you are absolute master
here. Not a word shall be heard against you from these girls!"

     There were two grooms and several stable-boys to assist me in my
task, which seemed to be no more than doing as I liked with the two
girls! A room had been set apart for me at one end of the stable, and
it was well appointed with a humidor of cigars and a decanter of fluid
which looked, smelt, and tasted like the finest old malt! From this
point of vantage, I settled down to watch Maggie through the open
door.

     The young blonde was laying out the saddle harness for inspection
by the grooms. In doing this she was also in the public view. On that
side the stable wall is the boundary of the Greystones Estates, the
windows looking out onto the road, though set in stone and not to be
opened. Men and women who stroll past can watch Maggie at work.

     Perhaps it was this which made Maggie such an exhibitionist.
First she found a black wig in a cupboard and fitted it over her own
blond hair. It was not an improvement, though she paraded in it, her
jaw slack and her tongue running on her lips. Taking it off at length,
she ducked her head and shook it vigorously, her blond hair flying
then settling at last into place.


     The stable lads began to play with her. "Want a good gallop,
Mag?" they called, as they seized her. "Take your pants down, then!"
She replied to them banteringly in a voice which was surprisingly soft
and lilting. She tried to escape by climbing over the harness rail.
Her legs were too short and the boys caught her as she was astride it.
One gripped her wrists and pulled her down so that she was lying
forward along it as she straddled.

     All this was done in play, Lizzie. Yet you may imagine the faces
of the men who were passing by and now pressed close to the windows to
observe these proceedings. Because Maggie lay forward, astride the
rail, the men outside the window could stare at the weight of the
soft, young breasts hanging like delectable fruit in the tight, blue
singlet. The wooden rail showed her pouched love-lips through the
straining tightness of her denim trousers. Taut but maturely filled
out, the firm cheeks of Maggie's backside faced these spectators.
There was much wrestling between her and the stable-lads! One of them
stole a kiss from her lips, another smacked her arse playfully several
times though the tight, thin denim.

     In the end it was Maggie who freed herself. Then, chewing
insolently upon sweetmeat in her mouth, she went to the stable-boy
who was her favorite and took him by the hand. Now, it seemed, she
was ready to pay any price for true love. She led the youth behind a
screen which stood conveniently at one end of the stable. I heard the
undoing of her waist and the whisper of Maggie's knickers being
pushed down to her knees and then to her ankles.

    "lie down and let me play with it first, you wicked boy." she
said teasingly in her soft Celtic lilt.  "None of the other
schoolgirls can do it as well as I, can they?"

     "Head to tail, Mag!" he gasped, "Please! Let us lie head to
tail!"

     "Ah!" whispered Maggie, "You rascal! If I do that you will make me
take it in my mouth!"

    "Do it, Mag!" gasped the lad again, "do it all the same!"

    His long sigh of contentment suggested that the coltish young
blonde had obeyed him in this manner.

     "I must kiss you between the thighs, Maggie!" he murmured, "While
my fingers stiffen those strawberry nipples on your white breasts. Was
that nice when I kissed you there, Mag? Ah, how that makes you shudder
- the tip of my tongue running in the love-slit between your thighs.
Lie still, Maggie, and let me do it again. What a soft little cry!
Anyone would think I had put you to the torture!"

    I listened in stupefaction, my dearest Lizzie. Was this the way in
which our English reformatories were run, I asked myself? Small wonder
such young whores as Maggie took their sentences with equanimity.

     "Now your backside, Maggie!", sighed her adorer. "Did you see how
the men admired you through the window each time they had a view from
the rear as you bent over in your tight riding jeans? What would they
like to do to you, Mag, if they had you as a slave girl? Suck softly
Maggie! Run your tongue about the cherry top! Now let me press your
pale seat-checks apart and admire what lies between. Ah, yes, Maggie!
If you were my slave girl, I should be pitiless in threading my shaft
into that tight, dark hole as well. That frightens you a little! The
thought of it makes you stiffen? To tell you the truth, the thought of
it makes me stiffen too!"

    So they lover's aria continued behind the stable screen. As I
listened, I looked out across the green, sloping lawn towards the
hedge which marked the steep fall of the cliff to the waves. It was
the only side on which Greystones might seem unprotected. Yet no young
damsel had ever been hardy enough to attempt a descent by that route.
Nor, of course, had any randy swain ever managed to climb up by that
way to woo his beloved in her reformatory bed! As I looked across the
lawns and saw the pier and bandstand of Pinebourne glittering in the
sun beyond, I could not help wondering what the respectable burghers
of the town would feel if they knew the truth of the reformatory
regime of which their lawmakers were so proud.

     Just then the grooms returned. Maggie, who had not nearly
completed her chores, was sentenced to be chastised for her
dilitoriness. When the first groom came to tell me that Maggie was
made ready to be caned for idleness, I could hardly find an answer!
Imagine how eagerly the men who had watched at the window while she
worked on the harness display would have taken this opportunity! I
could scarcely believe that it was my own voice saying, "Ah ,,,,
yes,,,, indeed. To be sure. Perhaps, though, on this first occasion,
you would be good enough to deal with her for me."

    A broad smile crossed the groom's face.  All the passion which he
had pumped into Maggie's mouth, the love with which he had spangled
her thighs and backside, did not restrain his zeal for chastising her.

     We went into the main part of the tiled stable, where as padded
bench stood at the centre of the floor. Maggie as stripped to her
singlet, made to kneel at one end of the bench and lie forward along
it. Her discarded pants and knickers (a pair of stretched cotton briefs)
lay discarded on the table. They had tied her blond hair in a short
pony-tail, and I pleased at that. It enabled me to watch more clearly
her blue eyes and fair-skinned features.

     I nodded to the groom, who made the preparations required by the
Greystones regulations. Maggie's wrists were strapped to the far end of
the bench, her waist buckled down, and her legs belted tightly
together just above the knees.

    All this will sound so severe, Lizzie, that you will scarcely
credit how much pleasure there was for Maggie in her punishment.
Yet such was the truth, as I discovered when I made my inspection of
her before she was bamboo'd.

    I squatted down behind her and studied the area which
offered itself as a target to the groom. Maggie's buttocks, firmly and
fully presented by her posture, were stretched hard hard apart. Both
to the rear pout of her vaginal purse and her anal cleft were in full
view. I teased our blond shopgirl gently. "You've been making love,
haven't you, Maggie?" I stroked her down the full length of her
cleavage, between the fair-skinned of her buttocks, tickling the rear
of her vaginal pouch and finding it moist. She was far away by now,


Your Own Adoring

     Charles

To be Continued
.