Damsels in Distress by Amanita Virosa Page B

in a way he had never been when punishing boys. The ladies’ fundaments, though still veiled by the white cotton of their drawers, were so plumply, so softly, so femininely inviting. He had been waiting a long time for this moment to arrive.
    ‘Well now,’ he said a little gruffly, and stepped closer. There was just space enough between the bending women for him to stand. He reached out and took a handful of bottom on either side. Virginia gasped and Penelope gave a little ‘harrumph’ of outrage, but he ignored them both.
    ‘Well now,’ he said, ‘these feel nice and tender, Horace. Nice and plump and ready for the rod.’
    His hands had found the splits in the backs of the women’s drawers, and praying that he did not come in his breeches, he slid his hands inside, provoking a pair of outraged sobs. The bottom flesh was warm and soft and smoother than satin, and Farquar stroked for a few seconds, utterly entranced.
    ‘I say, Salisbury, don’t be greedy, let me have a feel,’ Horace Wittingstall grumbled, in a rather strained voice.
    Farquar chuckled. ‘All right, Wittingstall, don’t get impatient, there is plenty of this succulent flesh to go round. What do you think? Shall we part their drawers and cane them the way schoolgirls get it, or drop their underlinen altogether?’
    ‘No!’ Penelope protested in a shrill voice. ‘I don’t, it’s not, I mean, you can’t!’
    ‘Actually it is, “you can’t, Master Farquar, sir”,’ he corrected her smugly. ‘Only its not because I do not care to be contradicted by you saucy little trollops, so that little outburst will cost you three nice extras. Oh, and by the way, I think you will find that I can!’
    Farquar removed his hand from Penelope’s bottom and turned his attention to Virginia. ‘Horace, would you care to divest Miss Simpson from her drawers, please?’
    ‘Would I?’ Horace blabbered excitedly. ‘Crikey, Salisbury! Would I? Would I care to divest her of her…? I say, bloody hell!’
    Marvelling at how tiny Virginia’s fearsomely corseted waist was, Farquar undid the drawer strings tied around it and eased the cotton garment down. Virginia was trembling and she whimpered as he did so, but otherwise the young widow did not protest.
    Horace was so excited he had much more trouble undoing Penelope’s drawers. The lady in question was writhing quite a lot and gasping in outrage, although otherwise she was managing to hold her tongue. At last Horace got the strings unknotted and pulled the drawers down, revealing a flawless, pertly chubby bottom. The red-haired boy blinked at it as he let the pantaloons fall, muttering, ‘Bloody hell!’
    However, the job of uncovering the two young ladies’ bottoms was accomplished at last, and Farquar took up the cane and stood back to admire the prospect before him. It was all he could do to prevent a ‘bloody hell!’ of his own escaping. Both ladies’ naked behinds were trembling invitingly. Penelope was a little shorter, her legs and buttocks just a little plumper. Her naked bum was as chubby and inviting as a pale split peach. Between her legs a pink-lipped quim peeked out invitingly. Farquar had to suppress a groan of lust.
    Virginia was a little taller and more slender than her friend, though her bottom was almost as plump and certainly as rounded. The black silk of her tightly gartered stockings set off the pale cream of her thigh and bottom flesh. Her sex, a little darker than her fair companion’s, was as well displayed and neat a cunny as Penelope’s. Farquar licked his lips.
    ‘Wittingstall,’ he said, trying to sound calmer than he felt, ‘get the board.’
    Horace bustled about for a minute or so, putting up a blackboard on an easel, to one side of but in front of the bent over women, so they could see it. He took a piece of chalk and drew a vertical line down the middle of the blackboard, then a horizontal line, bisecting the first at the top.
    ‘Um, what do I write, Salisbury,’ he