An Unhappy Birthday

AN UNHAPPY BIRTHDAY

							by Tom Justin



	It was a cold, blustery January day and the wind whipping through the
English countryside had a chilling bite to it.  Inside Brisbane manor, young
Lady Susan Brisbane sat on the edge of her bed, waiting expectantly.  The
tawny-haired beauty had a frown of apprehension on her pretty face as her wide,
soft, brown eyes alternated between the clock on the wall and the closed door of
her room.  She was attired for the cold in knee-length, calf-skin boots, and a
full, fox fur coat with matching hat.  For all appearances, the young noblewoman
look ready for a carriage ride into the village for a pleasant lunch and
shopping perhaps.

	However, the Earl of Coventry's daughter and only offspring did not have a
pleasant day awaiting her, even if it was her birthday.   Outside in the breezy
courtyard, members of the household staff were already beginning to assemble. 
And inside the warmth of her room beneath the expensive garment that covered
her, the Lady Susan Brisbane was completely nude. For at exactly twelve noon,
the hour of her birth, she would be led outside, stripped naked before the eyes
of her varied audience, and given nineteen lashes with a riding switch, one for
each year of her age, across her bare buttocks.

	Four selected members from the stable staff would administer the birthday
thrashing, each one striving to best the other.  At the Earl's decree, the man
causing his daughter to flinch and break pose during punishment would be awarded
a gold sovereign for his efforts.  As for the young mistress, she would then be
secured to the whipping post for the remaining strokes of her sentence, after
which Sir Charles himself would deliver an additional supplement of twice the
number of cuts that the Lady Susan had remaining from her count when she
flinched.

	Since her thirteenth year, the lovely, young noblewoman had endured this
painful and humiliating degradation.  The girl's mother had passed away that
year, and the Earl, exasperated and angered that his wife had not bore him a
son, vowed that his only heir would dearly earn and be worthy of the title and
property that would be bequeathed to her when she became of age.  Thus under the
stern tutelage of her father, and with many a stroke of the rod to her bare
backside for any shortcomings, the Lady Susan developed into one of the top
horseback riders and best marksmen in all of Coventry. The birthday whippings
were one of the trials imposed by the Earl to test his daughter's resolve and
fortitude, and they would continue until she reached the age of twenty-one.

	To those gathered in the courtyard, the annual, public dressing down of the
aristocratic, young beauty was a momentous occasion; viewed with a variety of
diverse emotions. Many of the household staff had been under the employ of the
Brisbanes for generations and had watched the Lady Susan grow from a small child
into a beautiful, young woman. And while some of the women present may have
regarded the flogging of the girl's naked backside with shocked horror and
indignation, others might have felt only a simple curiosity or compassion for
one so far above their station. Still others in the crowd might view the searing
agony of their future mistress with mirth and a sense of perverse vindication.
Despite the range of sentiments, few missed this event and the women with
husbands present all benefited from the salacious spectacle of the fair-skinned
beauty's naked charms and her writhing under the lash when they retired to their
conjugal beds with their aroused lovers.

	Approaching footsteps in the hall told the Lady Susan that her time of
travail was near. The condemned beauty rose from her bed as she heard the 
respectful tapping at the door. She straightened her hat then walked to the door
and let in the two maids that would lead her to her prescribed penance.  One of
the women had been with the household for many years while the other one was
much younger and seemed ill at ease with her unusual duty.

	The older of the two asked softy,  Are you ready, Miss?"

	The Lady Susan inclined her head and smiled wanly.

	The two servants stepped aside to let their mistress pass, then fell in step
behind her as she proceeded down the hallway. The younger maid opened the door
to the courtyard and both warmly-clad women followed the Lady Susan outside.

	A hush fell over the gathered assemblage of onlookers as they saw the door
open and the three women approaching.  The two servants each gently took hold of
their mistress's arm and led her into the center of the courtyard.  To one side
stood the girl's father along with the four men who would administer the
strokes.

	The young woman glance briefly at the Earl's stony-faced visage then down at
the black, rapier-like, whalebone switch which he flexed in his hands.  The Lady
Susan's eyes flickered briefly over her eminent chastisers.  Two of the men she
did not recognize while the other two she knew quite well, one too well.

	Mr. Gerard, the head groom, was the man she least wanted to see as one of
those chosen to whip her.  His skill with the lash was legendary and he was
often called on by members of the household to corporally punish an errant wife
or daughter. The Lady Susan had never endured Mr. Gerard's allotment of strokes
to her bare bottom without flinching during punishment.  And once, when she was
sixteen, he had been the first to have a go at her and she had reached back
after only four strokes; thus earning herself an extra twenty-four lashes from
her father after her initial sixteen cuts.

	The leather-wrapped switch, with its fiendishly-stinging, braided and waxed
trainer was a fearful implement of fustigation, more suited for application to
the backside of a horse than the tender buttocks of a woman. The young mistress
had never made it to the end of her whipping without breaking down and grabbing
back at her scalded nates. However, except for that disastrous sixteenth
birthday whipping, the Lady Susan's fortitude had steadily improved as she
managed to decrease the number of extra strokes each successive year.  It was a
known fact that many members of the household ran a betting lottery on the
stroke that she would flinch on during punishment.

	The other man that the condemned beauty recognized was Tommy Parkins, one of
the horse trainers. He was several years older than her, and the Lady Susan
always felt uncomfortable under his searching  gaze.  Once, when the contrite,
young noblewoman stumbled groaning from the barn after a bare-bottomed strapping
from her father for some minor infraction, she ran right into Tommy Parkins. 
The burning in her face had been almost as bad as her scorched behind. She vowed
that he would not be the one to make her flinch.

	The grim-faced Earl nodded to his daughter's hand-maidens and the older of
the two women gently nudged the young mistress in the small of the back.  The
Lady Susan Brisbane stepped forward and unbelted her fur garment which the
younger maid gently slid from her shoulders.

	The chorused sigh of awe that silenced the crowd spoke volumes of the young
mistress's loveliness as she stood bravely, arms at her sides, gazing
impassively above the heads of the crowd.

	The willowy slender nudity of the Lady Susan seemed dwarfed by the brawny
horsemen who would thrash her as the appreciative males in the audience gazed
covertly at her firm highset round breasts with their wide dark-coral aureolae
and crinkly pink nipples, already stiffening in the frigid air of this wintry
morning.  The courageous young martyr's slim waist belied her full gently
curving hips which broadened into a pair of voluptuously-contoured, milky-white
buttocks.

	The thin, sinuous crease which separated those ivory hillocks gradually
broadened as it near the base to merge with her splendid, long and
gracefully-curved thighs and supple calves.   The fleecy,  brownish curls of the
Lady Susan's love-thatch were of darker shade that the tawny tresses piled high
beneath her fur hat. That was the young beauty's only shield of modesty.

	To trollops and commoners who earned it, the whip was a fact of their
existence. But this was an Earl's daughter placed naked for the delectation of
the crowd. Though many a man in the audience must have lusted for the chaste
nudity of their master's daughter, their respect for the Brisbane royalty
prevented any murmured comments on the Lady Susan's naked charms.

	The time of atonement for the condemned beauty was at hand as the
indomitable Earl handed the riding whip to one of the men and announced, "First
five, Hopkin."

	The stalwart stableman took the offered switch and stepped forward.

	The Lady Susan turned her head and watched as her first chastiser positioned
himself on the right side of her nude body, the flexible instrument of
correction clenched firmly in his hand.  It was apparent that the man was
left-handed and would lash the young noblewoman's bare buttocks from the right
side.   The sentenced penitent could grasp a slight amount of solace in knowing
that at least five of the searing strokes of her count would impart the brunt of
their damage to the usually less punished, left cheek of her bottom; thus more
evenly distributing the stripes on her flesh.  However, many of the groomsmen
would occasionally regale their victim's proffered bare behind with backhand
slashes of the whip to demonstrate their dexterity and gain favor with their
employer and the watching crowd.

	All  four of the chosen executioners had spent several evenings in the barn
practicing their swings on stacked grain bags and leathern bolsters, striving to
obtain the maximum force in their blows.  It was considered an honor to be
picked for the Lady Susan's birthday thrashing, and each man wanted to be sure
to acquit himself well and exact the ultimate smart from each stinging stripe.

	Sensing that her Calvary was eminent, the slender aristocratic beauty turned
her head forward and placed her hands in cross over her breasts.  It was not out
of modesty that the young martyr assumed this position for she knew that the
crowd would look their fill at more private parts of her chaste body during her
writhing under the lash. However, to stand impassively with arms at her sides
while the lash seared her tender flesh only invited the involuntary rushing of
her hands to her buttocks and the subsequent extra ration of pain while bound to
the whipping post. The Lady Susan found that she could sustain herself better in
this position as well as afford her shivering body a certain measure of warmth
against the freezing cold.  And by cupping the snowy mounds of her bosom in her
hands, she prevented the salacious spectacle of her bobbing breasts to the men
in the audience as her body jerked and danced to the cadence of the whip. A look
of stoic acceptance and resignation was evident in the pale oval beauty of the
girl's face as she awaited the first stroke.

	The Earl of Coventry stepped forward, arms folded across his chest.  It was
he that would count the strokes of his daughter's infliction.

	George Hopkins, the Lady Susan's first executioner looked expectantly at his
employer for a sign to begin.   Sir Charles inclined his head slightly  in an
almost imperceptible nod.

	The man addressed his luscious naked target, appraising the firm
finely-grained flesh of the young mistress's ripe bottom ovals. He lowered the
switch to the ground as he measured his distance then slowly drew back his left
arm.

	The Lady Susan heard the chorused hush of the crowd and knew that the
punishing rod had risen and was in route to deliver its first biting kiss to her
condemned behind. The lovely martyr bowed her head and set her teeth against her
underlip, her nude body tensed and waiting.

	A sharp whirr preceded the cut, and the rapier-like switch landed with a
snapping impact against the upper summits of both naked bottomglobes,
momentarily chasing the blood from the skin before it sprang back, leaving its
swelling darkening weal.

	The bare cheeks of the girl's whipped bottom wriggled and shook under the
stinging  smart of the stroke and her body jerked convulsively.   As the Lady
Susan arched her hips forward, her head lifted and her face grimaced but only a
hiss of sucked in breath attested to her suffering.

	"One!" Sir Charles Brisbane impassively counted.

	The first stroke of the young noblewoman's birthday whipping had been
directed at the top of her hips at the beginning of the shadowy furrow that
separated the velvety-sheened, lower hemispheres of her opulent backside.   The
girl's chastiser watched as the resonant weal deepened and darkened as the
wintry air caressed his victim's palpitating flesh. He again lowered the limber,
black wand to the ground and gauged his distance, moving slightly back and to
the right.

	There was an angry swish as the rod sang through the air and curled around
the huddling nether globes of the Lady Susan's helplessly-proffered behind,
imprinting another lurid weal on that tender flesh.   Once more, the slender
beauty's lithe body stiffened under the scalding bite of the lash and her creamy
bottomcheeks crispened at once while her hips and loins spasmodically lunged
away from the fiery-hot pain.

	A vivid, parallel welt, perhaps an inch below the first stripe sprang up at
once on the girl's soft, sensitive skin and she ground her teeth furiously to
hold back any outcry. However, the uncontrollable quivering that ran up the
stoic penitent's thighs and into  the  tightening  cheeks  of  her shapely
buttocks  told  the watching crowd that she had not been impervious to the
stroke.

	"Two!"  The Lady Susan's father announced.

	George Hopkins paused as he contemplated the next cut of the five lashes he
would administer.   The man knew from the previous  birthday  thrashings  that 
he  had  seen  the  young mistress  endure,  that  she  would  not  break  down
under  his count.  Therefore   rather   than   slash   haphazardly   and
ruthlessly  at  the  enticingly-rounded  curves  of  the girl's bare behind  in
an effort to break her spirit,  he chose to demonstrate his expertise by evenly
spacing the lines of red and purple on the canvas of pale flesh erotically
delivered to him.

	With that thought in mind, the burly groomsman stepped forward and  sent 
the third cut slashing across the ripest curves  of  the Lady Susan's 
creamy-skinned  posterior.  

	The leathern switch made a rifle-like crack as wrapped around the cringing
mounds of the sentenced martyr's shuddering buttocks and the girl's eyes opened
wide under the ferocious stinging impact   as   a  stifled   "Uhhh!"   escaped  
her   desperately compressed lips.

	A third   horizontal   stripe   marred   the   alabaster smoothness of the
lovely sufferer's soft skin as the young noblewoman's father counted the third
stroke.

	The slim shoulders of the condemned beauty rose and fell with her quickened
breathing and the delicate nostrils of her nose dilated as she waited
apprehensively for the next lash.

	Three raised bands of red and purple now streaked the ivory beauty of the
Lady Susan's naked backside in regular lines and the tender flesh of her
inflamed buttocks twitched and  quivered  in  nervous  anticipation  of  more 
punishment. Those standing to the side of the shivering, young woman's slender
nudity could see the muscles in her jaw knot as she steeled herself for the
resumption of her whipping.

	The  fourth  stroke  fairly  splatted  into  the  limpened cheeks of the
girl's welt-ridged buttocks as the braided tail of the switch plucked venomously
at the yielding flesh of her left bottomglobe.  Under the impetus of the blow,
the courageous  young  beauty's  head  lifted  and  a  choking  sob escaped her 
throat.   Tears  had  begun to  trickle  from the corners of the Lady Susan's
tightly-closed eyes and she sub-consciously kneaded the firm mounds of her
clasped breasts in an effort to sustain herself.

	"Four!"    The  master  of  Brisbane  manor  called  out steadily.

	The  lurid,  blood-thickened  weals  that  traversed  the
beautifully-proportioned  mounds  of  the  naked  sufferer's whipped behind
contrasted sharply with the rest of her lovely white body.  The stripes were
evenly spaced, starting at the top of the hips and descending down the shivering
expanse of trembling flesh.  As George Hopkins measured his distance for the
fifth and final stroke of his allotment, the Lady Susan bowed her head and
closed her eyes as if in silent prayer.

	Determined  to acquit himself well  before his employer and  fellow 
groomsmen,  the  resolute  chastiser  sent  the snickering lash whistling into
the twin globes of his hapless victim's writhing buttocks with the full strength
of his arm, grunting as he struck.  

	As the hissing leather wand wrapped around the defenseless,  lower curves of
her clenching bottom rounds,  the  young  Lady  Susan  arched  up  on  her  toes 
and clamped her lips tightly together to stifle her scream.   Her tear-wet eyes
opened wide and her stung nether cheeks wobbled heavily under the stinging smart
of the stroke, as  an inky-blue contusion,  hard and thick,  appeared at the end
of the weal when the twine-wrapped trainer of the whip peeled away from the
girl's undulating left buttock.

	"Five!"  The girl's father proclaimed

	The  stern  parent  observed  the  striated  flesh  of  his daughter's
thrashed backside and gave a curt nod of approval to his horseman as he took the
supple switch from him.  From her hips to the base of her buttocks, the Lady
Susan's skin bore  five,  perfectly-spaced,  parallel  stripes.    The weals
were  bright  red  on  the  right,  then  they  thickened  and darkened into a
hard purplish band on the more punished left buttock where the tip of the lash
had imparted its fiendish sting.

	The Earl of Coventry's naked, nineteen year-old daughter glanced  fretfully
over her  shoulder and watched her father pass the supple rod to the next man. 
She groaned with dismay when she saw young Tommy Parkins eagerly accept the
leather-wrapped switch.   Despite the cold which chilled her goose-bumped flesh,
the anguished beauty felt a blush warm her face and neck.

	While the other three men selected to thrash the Lady Susan  were  all  in 
their  middle  years  and  perhaps  had daughters  her  age whom they no doubt
punished  corporally, Tommy Parkins was in his early twenties,  just several
years older  than  the  sentenced,  young penitent.   The  red-faced, future 
mistress  of  Brisbane  manor  felt  an added  shame  at being  whipped 
publicly  by  so  young  a  commoner  and  she tightened her resolve to remain
impassive under his allotment of strokes.   She took several deep breaths and
straightened her proud shoulders as she awaited the next assault to her bare
bottom.

	Swissshh.... craacckkk! !!

	The first stroke of Tommy Parkins count landed with a loud crack across the
luscious hillocks of the Lady Susan's red-streaked  posterior  and  the  stung 
nether  cheeks  shook vigorously  in  response.    A  swollen  imprint  of  the 
lash immediately appeared between two of the parallel weals left by George
Hopkins on the young woman's    creamy flesh.  The girl's nude  body  jerked
convulsively under  the burning cut and a barely audible gasp escaped her
trembling lips.

	"Six!"  Sir Charles Brisbane solemnly intoned.

	Some  murmurs  of  approval  could  be  heard  amidst  the gathered  crowd 
as  they  observed  the  effects  of  Tommy Parkins's first stroke.  The crimson
stripe that he inflicted on his hapless victim's posterior was accurately placed
so as not  to  intersect  any of  the other raised welts.   And the darkened,  
angry   ridge   branded   on   the   Lady   Susan's exquisitely-contoured, 
right bottomcheek indicating that the tip of the lash had spent its venom right
into the buttock and not around the hip where the pain would be less.

	Mr. Gerard, the head groom, also watched intently for he had tutored the
young man on how to apply the lash thus his skill was indirectly tested as well.  
He smiled with silent approval at the placement of the first stroke and eyed his
assistant as he prepared to deliver the next cut.

	Proving he was no novice, Tommy Parkins waited patiently for  the  cheeks 
of  his  victim's  bottom  to  relax  their contraction then he drew back his
strong right arm and sent the lash sweeping out.

	The  snickering  leather  wand  seemed  to  weld  itself momentarily  to 
the  writhing  flesh  of  the  Lady  Susan's cringing  bottom rounds  before  it 
snapped  back  elastically leaving  its  livid,  burgundy weal.   Once again, 
the lovely sufferer's nude body lurched spasmodically under the biting kiss  of 
the  lash  and  her  contorted,  tear-streaked  face lifted.

	"Seven!"  The girl's father announced.

	As the  firm globes  of her throbbing posterior jiggled and quaked in
torment, the contrite, young noblewoman glanced briefly over her shoulder at her
executioner,  her stricken face  red  with  shame.    She  shot  the  young 
horseman  an indignant  stare  then  turned  her  anguished  face  back  and
braced herself for the next stroke.

	The red  lines  etched  on the barred  flesh of the Lady Susan's condemned
buttocks  looked like they had been drawn with a ruler so evenly were they
placed.  It was evident that Tommy Parkins intended to demonstrate his skill and
accuracy with the  whip rather  than  try to break the spirit of his courageous
and beautiful victim.

	With  that purpose  in mind,  the Lady Susan's  youthful executioner
methodically dealt the remaining three strokes of the  prescribed  allotment  to 
the  wriggling,  striped,  lower hemispheres of her defenseless bare bottom. 
While the young man bore no animosity towards his lovely prey,  he  applied  the
whip with vigor,  causing the  jellied mounds of the naked girl's lovely
posterior to jump and dance in clenching bounds.   Tommy Parkins further
demonstrated his proficiency with the whip by not hurrying the strokes,  but
patiently waiting for the convulsed,  welt-ridged cheeks  of his  victim's 
martyred  behind  to  relax  their  muscular contractions  before dealing the 
next whistling cut.   Thus after the frightful burning of each searing stroke,
the Lady Susan  had  ample  time  to  taste  the  agonizing  suspense  of
waiting for the next one.

	The  stoic,  young  noblewoman  bore  her  Calvary  with amazing fortitude, 
manifesting her suffering only by silent tears and an occasional dull gasp.  
And while she kept her legs ramrod straight and her thighs pressed tightly
together as  the  whip  licked  and  snapped  at  her  throbbing,  scalded
nether  regions;  the  Lady  Susan  could  not  prevent  the involuntary  lewd 
gyrations  of  her  hips  and  the  salacious arching of her nude body as her
vulnerably-jutting buttocks  sustained the stinging fury of the lash.

	When  Tommy  Parkins  lowered  his  arm  after  the  tenth stroke of the
girl's sentence, tears were streaming down the Lady Susan's pale cheeks and her
pretty face was drawn with suffering.  The  once  milky skin  of  her 
voluptuously-curved buttocks was a cauldron of fiery welts and the palpitating,
vividly-streaked mounds of her behind drew and twitched where the lash had
bitten.

	Tommy  Parkins  had  wielded  the  rapier-like  switch  so skillfully  that 
nowhere  on  the  young  mistress's  punished backside did any of the weals
criss-cross one another.   The Lady Susan's corrugated flesh looked like she had
sat down on a broiler as her equally-lined right buttock now matched its
unfortunate twin.  The young stablehand had a modest smile on his  handsome 
face when he handed the evil  length of black whalebone back to his employer.

	Now it was the turn of Mr. Gerard, the head groom, and a murmur could be
heard among the spectators as The Earl of Coventry passed him the wicked tool of
punishment.

	The Lady Susan turned her tear-streaked face back and watched  the  grim 
preliminary  to  the  resumption  of  her thrashing.  The shivering, naked
beauty groaned with despair when  she  saw  who  her  next  executioner  was, 
and  nervous ripplings shook the welted cheeks of her condemned behind. Her lips
were trembling when she turned her head back and the lovely  martyr's  slim 
shoulders  rose  and  fell  with  her quickened breathing.

	Mr. Gerard surveyed the pale,  carmine-streaked expanse of his victim's
ivory-sheened bottom.  The ten previous cuts had  been  so  evenly-spaced  that 
where  next  the whip would strike the Lady Susan's voluptuous backside, the
stripe would criss-cross the initial marks, increasing the girl's torment. A
taut  silence  fell  over  the  crowd  as  Mr.  Gerard  slowly raised his arm.

	Craaackkk!!!!

	A rifle-like report echoed  in the uneasy stillness of the  courtyard  as 
the  whistling  lash  curled  around  the cringing  rotundities  of  the  Lady 
Susan's  bare  bottom, imprinting a diagonal  crimson streak  from the edge of
her right  hip  across  the  tightening  nether  ovals  and  biting keenly 
against  the  base  of  the  left  buttock.    Under  the impetus  of  the 
blow,  the  girl's  nude  body  involuntarily arched forward, her head lifted,
and a barely audible gasp of "Aahhh!" was torn from her bitten lips.

	"Eleven!"  Sir Charles Brisbane proclaimed.

	To those in attendance, the first stroke of Mr. Gerard's count  appeared  to 
have been delivered with an almost  lazy sweep of the man's arm, but the
frenzied spasming of the Lady Susan's red-striped, gluteal masses as the braided
tail of the switch plucked at her buttery flesh told of the punishing fury of
the stroke and the expertise of the one wielding the lash.  The  contrite, 
young  noblewoman  shifted  her  feet nervously as she prepared for the next
stroke.

	For the twelfth lash,  Mr.  Gerard stepped to his right and applied  a 
formidable,  backhand cut,  thus  inscribing a vivid X over  the Lady Susan's
huddling,  lower hemispheres. Again, the courageous, young sufferer uttered a
muffled groan and her bare hips jerked spasmodically as the burning pangs of the
whip attacked her piteously-welted backside.  The girl stamped her booted feet
in an effort to shake off the stinging smart and the crisscrossed mounds of her
buttocks jiggled lewdly in response.

	"Twelve!"  Sir Charles grimly announced.

	The murmur of the onlookers grew louder as they sensed the weakening of
their  employer's daughter under the lash. Tears were rivuleting down the
anguished beauty's drawn face and her teeth were chattering with cold and fear
as she dug her  fingers  into  the  clenched  mounds  of  her  breasts  and
braced herself for the next onslaught of pain.   The future mistress  of 
Brisbane  manor  had  now  reached  the  previous year's count of her
chastisement that she had broken down on and the lurid weals blazed obscenely
against the beautiful, white smoothness of her beaten bottom ovals.

 	Mr. Gerard watched the tumified flesh of his victim's violently-striated
bottomglobes  twitch  and  shiver  as  the muscles of her bottom contracted in
nervous spasms.  Like his predecessors, the man bore no malice towards the Lady
Susan, he was just fulfilling his duty.  With that purpose in mind, the head
groom slowly drew back his arm.

	Huiisshhh!!!!!!! 

	A high-pitched zipping sound preceded the thirteenth lash, and the switch
cut eel-like into the full, pale moons of the girl's shapely bottom. Under this
atrocious, searing sting of the whip, the Lady Susan's knees bent and her hands
momentarily left the sanctity of her clenched bosom. The fiery, darkening weal
that sprang up on the raw flesh of the young mistress's shuddering right
bottomglobe showed how the tough trainer had clawed into her tender flesh.

	A choking sob was torn from the courageous beauty's trembling lips as her
father called out "Thirteen."

	The Lady Susan's breasts were heaving with sobs of pain and anguish as she
turned her contorted, tear-stained face back imploringly over her shoulder at
her grim executioner.  The agonized cheeks of the girl's martyred behind shook
with enervating torment and she strove desperately to rally her waning
endurance.  The warmly-clad assemblage on onlookers watched attentively as Mr.
Gerard measured his distance for the next cut.

	Swisshhh!!

	The fourteenth stroke landed with a sharp impact against the surging mounds
of the Lady Susan's swollen backside, wresting another strangled cry from the
lovely, young sufferer.  As the supple, braided lash clung tenaciously to her
streaked and quivering bottom ovals, the naked mistress's left leg lifted and
she twisted her hips furiously trying to resist the pitiless cruelty of the
whipping.

	Under this lewd gyration of her pain-racked body, the slender beauty
involuntarily exposed the moist, pink lips of her sex to the profaning eyes of
the eagerly-watching crowd.  Also, as she raised her leg, the Lady Susan's lush,
welt--ridged, left bottomcheek rounded out; vulnerably presenting an area of her
tortured behind heretofore unscathed by the lash.

	Resolved to win the gold sovereign and seizing the opportunity offered by
the defenseless exposure of his victim's excoriated buttocks, Mr. Gerard
skillfully delivered the telling  fifteenth blow.  It was an
excruciatingly-accurate cut, delivered backhand from left to right with the full
strength of the man's arm.  	

	As the sinister, leather wand burrowed into the Lady Susan's cringing lower
hemispheres, Mr. Gerard adroitly snapped his wrist to make the twine-wrapped
trainer bite with venom into the sensitive undercurve of the girl's sore left
bottomglobe.  For a moment there was almost total silence as the searching 
whipcord seemed to visibly lift the jellied mass of welted flesh.   	The Lady
Susan threw her head back and a tear-choked scream was torn from her as she
rushed her hands to her flaming bottomcheeks, digging her fingers into the
resilient mounds of raw smarting flesh.  Sobbing brokenly, the anguished
noblewoman doubled over, shamelessly kneaded her scalded nates as tangled
tresses of tawny hair spilled out from beneath her skewed fur hat.

	After a few moments the girl's lamentations subsided and she slowly
straightened her pain-racked body.  The condemned beauty removed her hat and
handed it to one of her waiting handmaidens. She brushed several tear-wet
strands of hair from her flushed face, glanced briefly at her impassive father,
then advanced naked, head high to the whipping post.

	The Lady Susan's fourth chastiser received her.  The stout horseman raised
the slender beauty's arms above her head and fastened her wrists with hempen
cord to a heavy iron ring at the top of the post.  Constrained to stand on tip
toe, the turgid nipples of the young woman's upturned breasts pressed against
the chafing wood of the rough wooden column. 

	Although her martyrdom was far from over, the Lady Susan felt a sense of
solace as she pressed her nude body against the post that would hold her for the
remainder of her punishment.   For now that she had broken down, the waning
strength that the courageous martyr had expended striving to remain serene and
stoic under the lash could be better  used to bear the rest of her whipping. 
Out of maiden  modesty, she instinctively contracted the muscles of her
luridly-wealed bottom in a vain attempt to conceal the shameful intimacy of the
shadowy crease between her violently-twitching, palpitating hillocks. 

	The sentenced penitent turned her agonized face back over her white shoulder
and watched her grim-faced executioner step into position.  With a groan, the
Lady Susan Brisbane bowed her head and steeled herself for the resumption of her
thrashing while the lividly-streaked cheeks of her swollen behind trembled and
shook in dire apprehension of what lay in store for them.

	Richard Alexander was the name of the fourth man chosen to flog the future
mistress of Brisbane manor.  The supple switch dangled ominously from the
horseman's hand as he gauged his distance and slowly drew back his arm.

	Swissshh.....craaackkk!

	The evil length of black whalebone sang through the air and landed with
cruel impact against the fullest curves of the Lady Susan's bare buttocks. 
Under the savage bite of the lash, the girl's nude body lunged forward into the
rough wood post to which she was bound and a strangled cry of "Aahhh!" was
wrested from her trembling lips.

	"Sixteen."  Sir Charles announced.

	As the tapering end of the switch peeled away from the clenching mound of
the Lady Susan's spasming right buttock, a thick weal immediately sprang up,
reddening to purple.

	With hardly a moment of respite, the hapless sufferer's skillful 
executioner  stepped  to his  right  and delivered a vicious backhand cut of 
the switch across the base of the young beauty's piteously-welted,  bare
backside.   A sobbing wail was torn from the Lady Susan's gaping mouth as her
head lifted and she ground her fleecy mound salaciously into the chafing wood of
the whipping post.

	A diagonal,  crimson stripe blazed  like a brand across the  quaking  globes 
of  the  naked  penitent's  prominently-jutting posterior as she raised her
tear-blurred eyes to the cold,  leaden sky.   Bound as she was, arching forward
on the balls of her feet, the least movement of the lovely martyr's
trimly-muscled thighs and calves cause her acute torture as the  inflamed cheeks
of her bottom twitched and contracted, sending frightful waves of suffering
through her violently-striated  flesh.    Also,  as  the  Lady Susan's  will
weakened under  the  savage heat of her birthday whipping,  her  pain-racked 
body  was  less  able  to  do  her  bidding  and  the involuntary,  lewd yawning
and contracting of her  throbbing bottom   ovals   added   to   the   chaste  
beauty's   painful humiliation.

	The  final two strokes of Richard Alexander's allotted four were
administered in the same manner as the first two, with  sweeping  forehand  and 
backhand  swings  of  the  man's strong right arm.   As the braided switch
inflicted its naked agony on her tenderest flesh, the Lady Susan twisted her
hips furiously  from  side  to  side  in  a  desperate  attempt  to disperse the
flaming fury in her bare, abused behind.  Under this lascivious dance of pain,
the firm, welt-ridged mounds of the young mistress's scorched buttocks jiggled
and quaked with  enervating  torment  and  the  courtyard  rang  with  her
heart-rending cries.

	Tears  were  streaming  down  the  courageous  beauty's contorted face when
she turned her head to one side, her eyes dilated  and ravaged with  suffering.  
The resilient,  pear-shaped turrets of the Lady Susan's nude breasts heaved and
flattened against the unyielding wood of the upright post and the 
uncontrollable  muscular   spasms   that  permeated  the luridly-wealed, lower
hillocks of her punished behind were a salacious treat for the men in the
audience.

	Now it was the turn of the girl's father and an uneasy hush  fell  over  the 
crowd  as  the Earl  of  Coventry himself stepped  forward.    It  was  he  that 
would  administer  the additional supplement of eight strokes, double the number
of cuts that the Lady Susan had remaining of her original count of  nineteen 
when  she  flinched  on  Mr.  Gerard's  fifteenth stroke.

	Only a few pale patches of unmarked flesh could be seen amidst the
criss-crossed swellings that covered the softly-rounded  globes  of  the  young 
mistress's  severely-whipped posterior.  And although the courageous beauty's
total  lash count had decreased each year with her improved endurance of pain,
the mental anguish of baring her ripening bodily charms as  she  matured  into 
a  woman  weighed  heavily  on  the  Lady Susan's mind as she suffered her
shameful penance.

	The  bound  noblewoman  turned  her  drawn  face  back  and watched her
father approach.   Her eyes briefly met those of her parent  perhaps hoping for
a glimmer of empathy in the man's  cold,  dark  eyes.    Finding  none,  the 
Lady  Susan's brimming eyes seemed to send her  father a message of quiet
defiance as if to saying, "You sentenced me to this.   Do your damnedest."

	Wiping a tear from her face with her upraised arm, the young woman pressed
her  slender nakedness against the post which  held  her  and  awaited  the 
continuation  of  her  harsh Calvary. 

	 Sir  Charles  Brisbane  contemplated  the  emblazoned nudity   of   his 
daughter's   satiny  bottomglobes   as   she contracted her gluteal muscles in
desperate defense against the impending sting of the lash.   The enforced
traction of the  lovely victim's stance put the sensitive undercurve of her
proffered buttocks wholly on display, vulnerably exposing the most tender
regions of the female posterior.  With tight-lipped  resolve,  the  Earl  of 
Coventry  slowly  raised  the rapier-like switch.

	To the nineteen aching, throbbing welts across the Lady Susan's opulent   
red-streaked    nether    globes;    eight excruciating slices were added.   The
girl's father cut with long driving strokes,  just under the hemispherical curve
of the  hapless  sufferer's  wobbling  buttocks  and  dexterously drawing the
cuts in to better slice into the flesh.

	The strokes  landed with a savage whip-like impact and the  plump 
rotundities  of  the Lady Susan's  luscious  bottom rounds jumped and quivered
as each cut hit her.   Under the biting fury of the lash, the girl's nude body
jerked fitfully like a puppet on a string and choking cries answered each
stroke.  The old Earl could keep his daughter on a pinnacle of pain for almost
twenty seconds between cuts before driving the next stroke in when the atrocious
smart was at its peak.

	The watching crowd heard the vicious whistle preceding each  lash  and  saw
the  spasmodic,  wrenching  lunges  of  the condemned  beauty's  naked  body  as 
she  feverishly  tried  to escape the hissing cruelty of the snapping whip.  
Under the frightful  pain  which  burned  her  flesh,  the  Lady  Susan's
scorched bottomcheeks began to open and close spasmodically as if trying to
diminish the torment.   And as the hardened, twine-wrapped  trainer  plucked  at 
the  jellied  flesh  of  her writhing, cringing buttocks, the licentious yawning
of those tortured  gluteal  masses  freely  exposed  the  pouting conch shell of
her sex just below those jutting, striped globes.

	The   Earl   of   Coventry   finished   his   daughter's chastisement with
an agonizing stroke which bit over the base of the girl's shuddering behind and 
into the tender crease between her  beaten,  quaking  bottomcheeks.  

	The Lady Susan uttered a shrill cry of torment and her twisting body jerked
convulsively against  the  post which held her.   Under  this pernicious  attack 
on  her  most  sensitive flesh,  the young mistress's legs splayed open wide, 
freely exposing her most private parts to the goggling assembly of onlookers. 
The beautiful, whimpering sufferer was sobbing brokenly when her stern parent
lowered his arm and turned away.  

	The harsh birthday thrashing had turned the Lady Susan's creamy-skinned
bottom into a mass of livid welts and the corrugated flesh of her posterior
globes continued to twitch and shiver uncontrollably.  The cords around the
girl's wrists had dug in during her frantic tuggings, leaving purplish weals and
raw scratches as well.

	The  slender  beauty turned  her  head  to  one  side  and rested her pale
cheek on her shoulder as the crowd slowly dispersed.  It was not every day that
the daughter of an Earl was placed naked and whipped for their delectation, and
the tapestry of weals on the Lady Susan's bare skin was an erotic treat for many
a lustful eye in the audience.

	After  the  last  servant  had  departed,  the  two  maids loosed the Lady
Susan's bonds and covered their shivering mistress's nude body with her coat.  
Supported by her two sympathetic handmaidens, the Lady Susan hobbled weakly from
the arena of her  ignominious degradation thankful that her martyrdom was over.

	At  each  faltering  step,  the  sniffling  tearful  young noblewoman 
grimaced  as  the  touch  of  her coat against her swollen  bare  bottom 
revived  the  searing  pangs  of  her whipping.  And as she forced her
pain-racked body to obey its commands, the beautiful young sufferer's only
thoughts were of  the  fact  that  she  had  only  two  more  birthdays  to
endure.................two more to endure.    

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