"This'll teach you a lesson," he said, as he drew my dress away from me. I suddenly recalled that I was not prepared for a spanking. I mean to say that had I known that I would be spanked then, I would have worn a fluffy, lacy pair of step-ins instead of the tight-fitting silk panties that I was wearing at the time. But I was glad afterwards that I had not worn the step-ins. For, with my form fitting panties, I experienced a sensation that I never knew had existed.
Instead of drawing those panties down and thus exposing my bare bottoms, this lout instead made them fit my cheeks tighter by drawing up the slack in them. Thus, stretched across my buttocks was a taut membrane that would emphasize all the more, that would double every blow that was laid on them. Then, to heighten the pain all the more, he took the vase in which I had put some cut roses and poured some of the water across my tight panties. The cool, wet sensation chilled me for the moment. But that was for a moment only.
This clandestinely published gem of pre-war vintage Erotic recounts the pleasurable descent of our young female protagonist and pseudonymous author Juliet into the most profound of bondage abandons. Finding distinct pleasure through the application of pain, Juliet describes in graphically luscious detail how she came to be so taken with passive flagellation and of the many men that whipped her. From senior school boarding girls to drunks to sapphic lovers, all flagellatory deeds and devices are laid bare between these titillating pages.
A revealling look into 1930s America, A Song of the Whip is a fitting homage to those infamous Victorian titles which came before.