Nell in Bridewell - Part 8

Here is the final part of Nell's Farewell and indeed, it includes Nell's formal Farewell from the House of Correction.  It's significantly longer than the other parts, but there is a lot more going on coupled with lots of comments from the female spectators.

My dear Marie! Now, the wicked hour has arrived for me! Where went the wild pleasure of inflicting pain? The joy in tormenting others had suddenly gone! It was completely swept away, as unspeakable fear seized me!

While it's true the Governor could not arbitrarily nor vindictively impose punishment on me in any way he wanted, because my Farewell had been specified with precision. That is, 25 strokes of the rod from a woman's hand with no protection - in other words, on the naked body! 

Shall I not still be whipped by Thekla? I saw how she looked at me during the previous punishments. She appraised my backside, which was clearly molded out in my tight dress, and you could see the fire glowing in her eyes. 

At this time, the Governor called my name, drawing everyone's attention to me and my upcoming punishment.  From the simultaneous, intense chatter of about 30 women and girls, and I could only make out a few fragments, but they were all the more firmly imprinted on my memory.

“Ah, the belle of the ball!” cried a young girl.

“How wonderful! While it's true, the boy and young girl were amusing, what we are about to see will be spectacular! Young friends, pay attention so that you may benefit from Helen's example. Learn from her grace and decorum; you may need it in life!” said the PC's widow.

“Well, we hope we won't end up in the House of Correction or on the whipping-bench!” laughed the young girls.

“Well, you never know!  Do you think that beautiful inmate, when she was your age, would have ever suspected she would one day be stretched on a whipping-bench to be punished severely in front of strangers? But that's not what I was talking about. Once you are married, you must always behave with grace and decorum towards your husband in order to maintain his love for you. Who knows whether one day one of your husbands, after you rudely insult him, will turn his blossoming young wife over his knees or bed, and teach her like a schoolmaster with hand or rod? Here, young ladies, is an opportunity to learn how to act with decorum and grace under a similar situation; so, learn from it. Enough of that, look!  Helen is being stripped naked!”

Thekla approached me. I wanted to pin up my skirts (oh how shameful, to be preparing myself for my own chastisement).  Thekla said, half good-naturedly, half mockingly, “Don't do that, dear! Today I'll play the maid, who prepares you for your 'bridal bed'. So now, may I unbutton your dress and petticoats and pull them down?  Like so!  Your panties you may retain until after the sentence is read. After all, we wouldn't want 'our belle' to freeze in her thin shirt. 

Naturally, the female spectators were not silent during all of this:

“Oh, it's fitting that she too gets the rod. This will do her elegant hind end some real good!” – “Yes, yes, she has to display her bare backside; just as Lottie did earlier!”

“How strange, first she whipped and now she's being whipped!” “Ah, the young lady dresses in lace for her punishment! Snow-white, sparkling clean, lace skirts and panties! Just adorable!” – “Oh, how fortunate she is that people here appreciate this fashion sense. To avoid damaging this fine fabric, you must pull the thin skirts up out of the way; then unbutton and remove those panties which veil that splendid rump.”

I now stood before the curious eyes of the ladies in a costume that looked really charming, but should be reserved for the eyes of my husband. Even though I had not yet been chastised, I was ashamed standing in my lovely under things in front of all those strangers. The one petticoat I was still wearing, a white silk one richly trimmed with lace, reached almost to my knees, and beneath it were my elegant white panties, also trimmed with wide lace, perhaps an inch wide. Long, openwork black stockings and high boots completed my ensemble.

Since Thekla had removed the skirt of my dress, only my shirt covered my upper body. This lace shirt was cut wide at the front and back and was only held on the shoulders by two narrow straps. You can well imagine what your 'girlfriend' looked like. How nice it would have been, if I had been allowed to prepare like that for attending the ball with you. However, to put on all those beautiful, fashionable things, that would delight every woman's heart, only to get in them the rod, now that was especially painful!

“How adorable Helen now stands before us, truly desirable! Even we women with envy must acknowledge her beauty!” exclaimed a lady enthusiastically. “I would like to hug and kiss Helen!”

“She looks much prettier than when she received her 'Welcome' in those coarse prison clothes. Why the way she's dressed now, she could attend the finest society gatherings; of course, had she a dress on!”

Thekla had just untied my last skirt. She hugged me as if by chance and pressed me tightly against her so that her lips touched my neck in a kiss, then she pulled the skirt over my head. I don't know whether it was accidental or intentional, but I rather suspect the latter. She tugged and fiddled with the skirt, pulling it up roughly so that my hair came undone.  When Thekla finally pulled the garment away, my hair untangled and fell all the way down to my hips.

Now the ladies' enthusiasm knew no bounds! - - - “No, that's beautiful beyond belief! You should dye it first, before you free style it! Does she even look like an inmate anymore? That beautiful hair!” and so on, shrilling and echoing in confusion.

“But it's time now for the final act!” called out the PC's widow in a loud voice. “Mamselle Thekla knows how to undress pretty inmates in such a way that anticipation becomes more and more intense.  One now longs to see the delicate white skin and the magnificently sculpted limbs in wild movement, while observing the effects of the rod and listening to the music coming from the dance on the whipping-bench. Just the sight of her adorable arms, the heaving, voluptuous breasts and Nell's plump calves, which are particularly attractive in those long black stockings, greatly increase the desire for the coming punishment! Add to this, that sweet little face, those long, thick and silky-soft curls and - last but not least - the high-arched, firm and full cheeks, the outline of which you can clearly see through the fine, thin panties! Do you remember how to swing the rod, Miss Thekla, so that this full figured, little Helen doesn't laugh on the punishment bench or even put us to sleep?”

“Well, madam,” replied Thekla, “you will not be disappointed. Even though I've thrashed the young boy and the little arsonist, my strength will still be sufficient to paint Helen's round cheeks a dark red - perhaps even to make sitting unpleasant for her for several days!”

Here the Governor interrupted them, turned to the Surgeon and asked aren't we being way too lenient expecting Thekla, who is already exhausted, to adequately punish Helen all by herself? The kindly Surgeon could not answer this question outright, but he tried in vain to dissuade the Governor from his predetermined conviction.

“The decree does not specifically stipulate any special leniency for Helen,” the Governor said, “it only prescribes the degree of punishment and the mode of punishment. I also believe that sparing her tender, but very firm backside, is pointless. Thus, her punishment should not be carried out by my cousin, Thekla, alone, but instead, aided by another female. Now since the task-mistress has fallen ill, possibly a female inmate or a maid could be assigned this task?”

But before the eager Thekla could rush out to fetch someone, the PC's widow had approached the Governor with the following question: “Perhaps the young widow of Dr. Z... (this is the same young widow who had taken Fritz to the infirmary) could step in? She would be more than happy to help and is clearly quite capable!”

“Fine with me, if she wants to!” replied the Governor with a smile.

The young MD's widow, glowing all over, stood up and willingly assumed the punishment task. I had little fear of harsh strokes from this widow like I feared from Thekla. I just assumed the pretty, plump woman, bursting with health, and half embarrassed by her assigned task, was good-natured and incapable of strong blows.

The Governor raised his voice again to read out my punishment decree. It didn't take long, but despite my fear, I was almost glad, because the mocking, lustful and curious looks I received made me long for the start and, above all, the end of my punishment. “And now let her punishment begin!” concluded the Governor.

How my limbs trembled! The fear was almost overwhelming. On the other hand, what was the feeling I had as a schoolgirl when I was chastised in front of my schoolmates as mentioned in your earlier letter. I was barely able to step up to the awful punishment bench.

Immediately the young MD's widow rushed over, eager and ready to serve. I had to lie down on the bench and offer my hands and feet to the restraints. Thekla and the MD's widow quickly buckled the bindings on me and now I was completely defenseless! I closed my eyes and tried to imagine that I was still a child and that my dear mother was about to lovingly spank me with her soft, motherly hand, as she sometimes did, but I couldn't do it. My anxiety grew by the second!  I had to summon all my strength not to let my fear show through involuntary trembles and twitches. My body was not yet completely exposed, but at any moment my last covering could disappear. I felt my cheeks flush with shame as - now - now - NOW  Thekla pulled my panties down to my calves - oh God! - the shame! And now - now the MD's widow took hold of my lace shirt - oh if only the earth had swallowed me up! - she tugged and pulled it right up to my neck! I felt from the soft breeze that passed over my back that I was completely naked from neck to thighs, completely exposed to the eyes of the onlookers.

Oh, Marie, you cannot know how dreadful feeling the shame is, and how the ridicule of strangers affects you at such moments! The noble ladies, who had now crowded close to the punishment bench, held neither their tongues nor their hands. The PC's widow was the first to slap my bottom, and since Governor didn't object, the younger ladies and even a few girls don't miss the chance to make beauty, skin and flesh studies of my person. Even the two, charged with my punishment, stroked and slapped me lustfully. They did not limit themselves to the parts threatened by the rod, but also examined the fineness and softness of my hair, which Thekla had placed over my back.

A very sweet, pretty young girl leaned down to me, stroked my blushing cheeks, kissed me on them and uttered, “Oh, you poor dear! How sorry I am that you will be getting such a spanking! Well, it 'll soon be over!” Tears came to my eyes at these comforting words, but I didn't feel any compassion from the other ladies. On the contrary, they said, “Wouldn't it be downright criminal, if one withheld this alabaster body and this delicate, velvety soft skin from the public? After all, this whole beautiful body was only made for love or spanking.  What a shame that today is the last time we'll get to see it! Let us, therefore, observe its changes and motions very closely!” – “I'm already looking forward to Nell raising her voice and singing us an interesting song of pain. She is different from the other women who either curse or howl under the rod!”

“Well, my dear, addressing the MD's widow, are you ready to begin? We long for the first act of Whipping-bench Theater! Please hurry, those jutting cheeks are just asking to be kissed! But how can you tease them like that? Now that they are freed from their annoying skirts and panties. Proudly and confidently, they stand out in their beauty, as if they wish to ask: 'Well, aren't we some gorgeous twins?' But instead, you make them wait before you pay them due tribute! See! They're getting impatient and starting to fidget!”

I was no longer able to control my fear; involuntarily my cheeks and thighs began to tremble.

Now the MD's widow, smiling bashfully for it was probably the first time she had used a rod on a member of her own sex in public, raised the rods high up and brought them whistling down on my proud cheeks. Oh, how that burned and stung! Already, I felt like shouting out in pain. Thekla landed the second stroke.  This one must have hit exactly on top of the first, because it stung a lot.

“Oh God,” I prayed softly, “don't let my torment get too bad!”

“Well, Nell doesn't seem to feel at all that she's being whipped; she lies there so quietly and gracefully on the whipping-bench. She hardly moves!” exclaimed a girl.

“Just wait! That's just a deceptive calm! She'll soon wake up!” 

The MD's widow whipped again with all her might. She struck the previous welts once again and Thekla followed her example. Now my peace was over. My poor whipped hinds suddenly jerked up; then my whole body crashed sharply back down onto the bench. My eyes filled with tears.

“Oh look, she's already crying, and she's only had four strokes! Hey, looks like we're in for some fun from now until the twenty-fifth!”  “Well, didn't I tell you?  Look how soon she's bucking her pretty bottom up and down!  But that's nothing; her soul has to yet whipped out of her body!” “How deliciously the rod paints! Every twig can be distinguished on the alabaster, white flesh!”

Another two strokes were delivered with all their might. I felt the welts swell up to the point of bursting; it was a horrible feeling. I cried out loud and begged: “Mercy, mercy, not so hard! It hurts so terribly!”

Loud laughter followed my exclamations. “How sweetly she begs! Hahahaha! Now the fun begins, Nell! Six lashes and already begging for mercy! Oh, yes, I expected Nell to do better and take more!” “Yes, yes, my dear, the rod is already biting nicely! Just look at how her bosom heaves! And how lively her bottom dances! It's as if it seeks to ask the two pretty women, tasked with its punishment: 'Look how your kisses hurt me. Why do you make me blush so much and why do you make me cry?' Of course, these unspoken questions have no answers.”

The MD's widow, visibly stimulated by lust, struck the seventh blow and Thekla the eighth.

I cried out loudly, “Oh, Isidor, my beloved! Oh, the pain!”

“How lovely it sounds when her body comes down from on high and hits the bench from her breasts to her knees! And how picturesquely the lace panties flutter around her solid calves! No, it's truly delightful! If I were her mom, I'd spank her more often; sometimes alone, in her bed - sometimes in the presence of her friends, whenever she failed to obey me!  Even when friends visited and she was naughty, I'll put my little daughter over my knees and give her the rod! How I'd be envied for having such a beautiful daughter!”

During this small talk the rod whipped my bottom for the ninth and tenth time. I vastly underestimated the pain it would cause.  Oh Marie, it is a totally different matter when a young girl's skirts are lifted up by her parents or guardian and she is given the rod either over their lap or a chair. Again, a different matter, when a grown woman, the mistress of a nobleman, is tied up in stocks and thrashed like in a House of Correction. In either case, just as soon as loud screaming begins, the skirts are lowered back in place and the girl gets up, cries and sobs for a quarter hour, and then she is happy again.

But here in the House of Correction, it does NOT matter how loud the screaming becomes; neither staff nor administration are bothered by it in any way. The inmate's hands are constrained, and she cannot reach back and comfort the flesh being lashed by the rod. Her legs are fastened so tightly she can neither kick out nor flex at her knees. When her skin becomes raw and blood begins to seep, the bound woman in her heart's anguish no longer knows what to do to relieve the pain.  Our female spectators, however, laugh and rejoice that their fellow sister: “finally knows how to move her red, weeping hind end”.

I cried and screamed: “Oh, please, my good lady — please, please, not so HARD! I can't stand it! I want – ouch! please, oh...”

“Hopefully, that dear red juice will be coming soon,” replied the PC's widow. “Or is the beautiful sinner's bottom as hard as her heart?”

The rods struck for the eleventh and twelfth time. “Look! The hot red blood at last!” cried one. “That beautiful, stately behind is finally crying red!”

“How delightfully the elegantly shaped classic back and the untouched full, round, snow-white thighs contrast with the full cheeks that are now dark red. A painter could not choose a more beautiful motif than Nell's Farewell!” - - “Yes, indeed, if an artist saw such a lovely woman tied up in front of him and those classic limbs writhing under pain of the rod, it would create a memory that remain with him for the rest of his life!”

I felt that the welts had opened, and my warm blood was oozing out in small drops. My strength was gone. With my hands, I clutched the legs of the bench to which I was tied, my knees banged on the bench and my bottom was almost more in the air than on the whipping-bench. My thighs twitched and trembled involuntarily and spread wide apart. WWIIISSHH — whistled the rod for the thirteenth time—oh, what horrible torture! I literally reared up and pulled and tugged at the straps so hard that they almost broke. My screaming and crying filled the whole wide room. “Oh, NO more—not so HARD,” I whimpered. “Oh Isidor, beloved—the rod, oh love—oh OUCH—my beloved!”

“Whenever she gets a good hard stroke, she calls out for her lover!” said a young thing. “If only he could only see her when she is being thrashed like that!” – “Yes, yes, love, love!” replied another. “You have to admit, our dear MD's widow knows how to give pretty female inmates a real treat! How consistently her rod lands right on target! And how precisely the tips of the twigs dig in! Certainly, it must be painful when the rod so skillfully slashes into tender flesh!”

Thekla then struck the fourteenth stroke, and this again sent my hind end into extremely painful, wild convulsions. My tears of pain were now mixed with those of remorse. I blamed myself for having previously tormented and whipped without mercy the little arsonist and her lover, while I experienced nothing, but pleasure and joy.

Weeping, I cried, “Oh dear, merciful Governor, please, please, make them STOP— I — oh — NOT—there—oh—not... I'm going to die!”

Again, I felt the bite of the birch rods. The young widow left the rod on my bottom, pressed down hard, and began to saw it back and forth along the weals. I almost died of the hellish pain. With every sawing stroke, she ripped, burned and powerfully stung my poor behind. I turned on my side to get my backside out of range, but immediately Thekla came over and with her powerful hands, grabbed my thighs and sat on them with her big bottom.  The weight of which I felt through my thin covering, thereby causing me new pain. Now both of them took up rods and amused themselves and the spectators by literally playing the violin on my bottom. 

“Ah, you want to enrich and prolong our pleasure, ladies? That is very nice of you! There are only 10 strokes left, so our entertainment will be over too soon!”

“How she twists to rid herself of the weight and escape the whipping! Look at how the white muscles in her beautiful knees twitch and work, how her calves and feet tremble, but Miss Thekla sits too firmly on her horse. How the rod's branches and knots rub and tear the velvet skin! It's like, they play the tune and Nell sings along!”

“Yes, there's nothing more amusing than the transforming voice of a pretty soprano singer on the punishment bench. First a soft whimper, every now and then a little cry, then suppressed weeping, finally loud, prolonged screaming!  Eventually, when they think they can't stand it any longer, desperate pleas, promises, interesting exclamations that give a deep insight into the soul of the beautiful, naked sufferer, and in between these vocalizations the most beautiful melodies and scales. And to think all of this is brought about by judicious strokes of the rod.

“But what is most interesting is the embarrassment of the girls.  Just the thought of a young lady, from the best family, finely educated, raised in the most distinguished circles, almost spoiled by the homage of the male world, impeccable in her habits and gifted with natural beauty, decorum and grace, in prison is, to a certain extent, exciting! But now to force this girl to expose her body, stark naked in front of strangers like a schoolchild, to observe her virginal shyness, anxiety and fear and then watch and hear how little by little roses, dark purple ones, are conjured up on her behind. These pale backsides, startled and excited by the pain, shoot up, twist, twist, twitch, thrash and contort, as fear shows itself at every turn, in every look, in the vibration of the arms and legs, in the lifting and lowering of the affected part, and how she shows grace and decorum, decency and culture in her crying, screaming and begging even when the heaviest rods come whipping down.  Now, this is the ultimate pleasure!”

I yanked and tugged at the straps, my arm tendons and muscles straining with the power of desperation, but to no avail. These restraints were too tight for me, poor child. Blood oozed from the cuts and wounds caused by the sawing action of the two carrying out my punishment. Finally, Thekla got off me and both of them gave me a chance to calm down a bit.

“Now that her bottom is all red, perhaps the remaining strokes should be placed on her thighs,” suggested the PC's widow.

“Yes, that will be a sight for the gods,” cried a young lady. “My 13-year-old sister recently got the rod on her thighs from my mom in the presence of our music teacher. I was most interested in the wriggling, writhing and twitching of those pretty round parts!”

“And your music teacher wasn't?” asked another.

Blushing, the young lady replied: “Oh, I would say he definitely was, because he never took his eyes off my little sister's legs. Then later, he asked me if I still get the rod on occasion.”

“Ah, so now he wants to see a certain 17-year-old get punished! But you don't get punished any more, dearest friend; do you?”

The young lady glowed all over, but made no reply. Her embarrassment alone made it clear that if she wanted to tell the truth, she would have had to say: “Yes!” 

“Now, now, don't be upset!” was said. “Even wives occasionally get the rod; there's no shame in that! But look, the punishment will recommence.”

Thekla and the young widow whipped their rods on my thighs at the same time. It felt like these were fresh rods, because the pain was so terribly intense. I cried out loudly begging for mercy and compassion.

The PC's widow used the pause to further educate her attentive listeners:

“I find it most regrettable that there are no gentlemen present at today's punishment session. What a pleasure it would be for them to see such beautiful girls stripped and whipped with the rods! How it would intensely stimulate and excite their senses and their imagination! Yes, many a man would certainly buy a rod immediately and lay his young wife or pretty female servants or even a blooming little girl or a charming sister-in-law or a little coquette over a chair or bed at home, and then put what he has seen here into practice, and naturally with various modifications and enhancements!

And rest assured, ladies, there would be no question of the acceptance, at least from the young wives! What a sweet, infinitely blissful feeling it is for us women to receive a spanking, even a hard spanking, from the hand of our lover or husband!  Of course, I don't mean the kind that a rough, drunken working man hits his wife with his fist or his club in the face or on the head, etc. No, a woman should be punished like child, her skirts lifted, her panties opened or pulled down and then her exposed curves are slapped, not in anger or violent outburst, but in moderation. Moderation, indeed, but still vigorously enough that the woman's wigglings, her pleas and perhaps also her tears give her husband pleasure, and he finally sees the place of punishment as a prelude to later joys!

I can imagine, my dear young musician,” she turned to the pretty music enthusiast, “that your music teacher's heart warmed when he saw your sweet little sister being chastised in this way by your strict mother. Who can blame him if he would like to see you treated like that! Give him that opportunity! 

Look, my dear, and you too, ladies! When I was 19 years old and the bride of my late husband, my good mother warned me not to put on my wedding dress and veil etc. before my wedding day. 'That brings misfortune and discord into the marriage!' she said, 'for the things are then desecrated and the blessing is taken away from them!'

I laughed at this nonsense, as I called it. 'Mother,' I replied, 'who will believe such fairy tales?' I felt emboldened with my stance. First, she scolded me severely, and finally, with harsh threats, she forbade me to put on my bridal outfit before the wedding. But, ladies, let's not let the past take up too much of our time to the detriment of the present. See how Helen's white thighs are decorated with images, red twigs on a white background! How clearly you can now see the twitching of the muscles and how the upper body seems to sway with her hips!”

“Yes, yes, she won't be swinging her hips so proudly tonight; any flirtatious wagging of her tail will end after all those kisses from the rods!”

“Now only nine strokes left,” said a lady, “and that's the end of this beautiful spectacle. Just feel, ladies, how hot her thighs are!” She stroked her delicate hand sensually back and forth on my bare thighs. Others followed her example, but some grabbed parts of my sore flesh between their fingers and then pinched and twisted so that I cried even louder than before and my poor thighs twitched and wriggled in pain.

Then just after a particularly hard pinch, my bottom jerked up, and the MD's widow, who had been waiting patiently, lashed her rod onto my sore thighs once more.

New pleas and screams emerged: “Oh, help! Oh, my poor thighs! Oh, not on my thighs again! Oh — No, my oh—ouch!” My fear caused me instinctively to turn my head to the side from which additional pain was threatened.”

“How anxiously Nell looks around to see when the rod will fall next! And how her reddened cheeks whine to each other and share their painful experiences.  While they appear to be kissing now, in the next moment they'll repel each other, in that delightful game of unending motion!”

“Only eight left! I wonder if those tender, trembling thighs will soon show that lovely red juice?”

Thekla struck again as my thighs wriggled high in the air. The long, thin switches flexed so much, they literally wrapped around my legs. As a result, they also caused my front to experience the same biting pain. I pressed my body onto the bench with all my strength to avoid this new torture, but a new stroke, the eighteenth, in which the young widow raised herself up on her toes, and accompanied with a silvery laugh, hit me so hard that I was startled again, and my legs began flailing in the air. Thekla immediately gave me the nineteenth stinging stroke.

Despite all that motion, my long stockings still covered my lower legs. Thekla untied my garters and pulled my stockings and panties down to my calves, and she delivered a similar blow to the backs of my bare knees. How it stung and hurt! I stretched and bent my knees; my entire body was in constant motion! I begged, pleaded, cried, all in vain! Again and again those caustic switches wrapped themselves around my thighs and knees.

“It's appropriate,” it was said, “that her tender knees and fronts of her thighs should be given some punishment. If Helen were to receive a severe 'Farewell' today instead of this moderate one, the customary way would be to give her the rod from her neck to her heels. After all, what are twenty-five strokes of the rod, especially from a delicate woman's hand, on Helen's firm flesh and magnificent physique! She should have three times as many, but by a man's hand! Isn't that right, madam?”

“Of course, my dear! I don't understand at all why this excessive leniency is being granted! Why not entrust the young, strong, newly hired, probationary Overseer with the punishment of Helen? This would benefit both parties. Nell would have the uplifting awareness of being thrashed by a man to the best of his ability (as she had been at her 'Welcome') and he could show that he is a fully qualified Overseer. And how interesting it would be for him to be able to unbutton the elegant lace skirt and panties of a young lady, who happens to be Helen today, exposing the field of operation for the rod.  Then follow by stimulating those exposed areas into an exciting dance with the wicked birch rod. I think that would be a real treat for an Overseer. I believe that he would hit with all his might and not rest until Helen had welts and weals from her neck to the back of her knees and countless ruby pearls on her white, sensitive, full, and firm hind-cheeks!”

“But, dear madam,” asked one of the girls, “you were telling us about that little episode from your marriage. Please, tell us what happened?”

“Oh, I had completely forgotten; Helen's punishment consumes all my attention.

Anyway, my mother had forbidden me to put on my bridal outfit before the wedding.  Well, one evening, about seven or eight days before my wedding day, some good friends and my Groom came to visit us. My mom had gone out and I didn't expect her back anytime soon. In short, my friends urged me to show them my bridal finery. My Groom said that if my mom didn't allow it, I should simply refuse.

'Oh darling, I don't believe in such nonsense,' I said, laughing.

'Nevertheless, whether it's nonsense or not,' he replied, 'you mustn't do it out of obedience to your mother!'– 'Well, I'm not a child anymore!' I shout defiantly and hurried out of the room with my friends.

A quarter of an hour later, I'm standing in front of my Groom dressed in my white silk wedding dress, wreath and veil, in beautifully pinned hair, white stockings, shoes and gloves and teasingly ask, , 'Well, darling, do you like what you see?'

He hugs me silently and kisses me. My friends, delighted by my pretty appearance, admire and envy me as I'm floating on the clouds. Suddenly the door opens, and Mom stands in front of me, startled and terribly angry.  I rush towards her, pleading: 'Mummy!' 

Slap-Slap, slaps on my right and left sting my face and she's out the door in no time.  Before I've recovered from my shock, she returned and, in her hand, she held the same rod my 13-year-old sister was going to get spanked with the next morning, and still wet from soaking in water.

One tug, and she lifts my dress up to my girdle.  I try to defend myself, but she takes hold of me with a strong hand, and shouts, 'Mr. Son-in-law, hold her tight and you shall have an obedient wife!' My bridegroom, far from wanting to help me in my disobedience, pulls me towards him calmly with masculine strength, and lays me across his lap.  I scream, beg, curse him, and threaten that I won't marry him at all.  When none of this helps, I try to resist, wriggling and struggling with my hands and legs, all in vain.  He holds both my hands in one of his as if in a vice, he puts his leg over mine, and I - imagine - in my full bridal outfit, am immobilized and have to lie still. And the suppressed secret giggles of my girlfriends and the handsome, seemingly quite indifferent face of my bridegroom, who, as I saw in the large mirror, was smiling at me! Oh, I could have clawed his eyes out! And now, unconcerned about the other girls, Mama lifts up my skirts and, with all her motherly energy, whips me soundly, emphasizing each word with another powerful stroke.

'Remember, you,' she shouted angrily. 'You... shall... not...  be disobedient...!'

Five times she gave that same warning and with each, she delivered a hard spank. These I remembered better than my promises and marriage vows! By the time she was done, my defiance was broken. I only had one wish: to win her forgiveness!  Well, that was not difficult for me, because Mother was now sorry herself. My bridegroom released me, I stood up and did not resist him embracing me, pressing me to him and kissing my hot, tear-stained face passionately! I was no longer angry with him.

Then I went to my mom: “Please, dear mother, please forgive me,” I asked quietly. She kissed me silently on the forehead and brushed the curls from my face. You can imagine what my bottom looked like, welts upon welts, and a fire and burning, as if the skin wanted to burst. I wrapped myself straight away, but on my wedding day, when I put my wedding dress back on for the first time after that affair, I still felt a few thin welts. On the evening of my wedding day, of course, one of my girlfriends couldn't resist handing me a miniature rod decorated with beautiful red ribbons as she recited a pretty poem that contained hidden allusions to my painful experience. And when we had been married for about six months, my husband confessed to me in a tender hour that he had never loved me so much as when I was over his lap being punished by Mother!”

“Bravo, bravo!” cried the young ladies, as if with one voice!

I listen to the PC's widow's entire account, which she described with a very special liveliness, probably in sweet remembrance of that beautiful “time long ago”. All the while my two, charged with my punishment, had taken a rest and left me lying quietly in my pain on the bench.  I received 22 lashes. 'Now three more,' I thought, 'then it's over and I'm free!'

Then the Governor gave the two whippers a secret order. At first, I didn't know what it meant, but in the next moment it became clear to me.  I turned and saw that Thekla was holding the rod upside down.  Anticipating terrible pain, I begged and whimpered: “Please, please - not like this - not like that! - Oh, Isidor, help! - Oh, it hurts so much!” My begging was of no avail.  The rod struck my poor full cheeks hard and felt like a thick cane now. I almost worked my way through the restraints to escape this excruciating pain.

“This change is excellent,” cried the ladies. “At least you can see how the flesh bounces and resists against the uninvited guest.”

I squirmed and turned as much as I could. What did it matter to me now that I was lying there almost naked in front of everyone! If only it hadn't been for the pain!

“Returning to my story,” the pretty PC's widow began:

“You can be assured that nothing commands the attention of men more than their attendance at or their participation in the corporal punishment of pretty girls or women!

An acquaintance of mine, a very beautiful and witty lady, found e.g. her husband showed little willingness to engage in Cypriot arguments. Since she was very much in love with her husband, this lack naturally caused her great distress. As it happens, a rather buxom, pretty little girl of about fourteen came to visit them for an extended stay. One day the pretty little lady had done something naughty. On the spur of the moment, my friend brings the little sinner into the drawing-room, where her husband happened to be. Lifts her skirts and spanks her the naked, naughty, but nevertheless, very delicate rosy flesh, until is well roasted. Then she put the little scamp to bed so that she could cry herself out.

When she returned to the drawing room, her husband came to meet her, hugged her and kissed her hotly! This little incident had given her a clear hint, which she understood and used properly. She took the niece completely into her house, and brought her up with two other young girls, she got from an orphanage. As soon as one of the little ladies was naughty, her “aunt” gave her the rod. — Since then, my friend has had no reason to complain about her husband's cool temperament!  “Didn't you, my dear young friend,” she turned to the lovely music student, “hear expressions of glee from your music teacher, when your young sister was once again punished?”

“No!” she answered.

“Well,” continued the PC's widow, beating around the bush, so to speak, “perhaps not with your sister, but when you yourself were spanked?” 

“How did you know that I got spanked?” the young girl asked excitedly.

The general laughter, which followed this exclamation, showed that that she had fallen for the PC's widow's clever trap. She turned dark red with embarrassment, and tears welled up in her eyes. “But, my dear, good child, why the tears?  Why don't you tell us about this little episode? Believe me, many of us have felt the same thing, indeed some of the young ladies present here,” the PC's widow looked particularly sharply at two young, rather buxom young ladies standing behind her, who so far who had always remained respectfully silent, until then, whereupon both blushed deeply — (I subsequently found out that they were the two nieces, who had received a sound spanking from their strict aunty, the PC's widow, just two days before)  — “Perhaps, if one  wanted to visit them, they would have to try to cover up the fine red stripes or delicate rosy welts on their round little cheeks, that came from a cane or a slender rod, delivered by the loving hand of their good mother, the strictness of their governess or that that of an aunt, motherly concerned about the well-being of her little girls.”

“Certainly, dear Auntie,” was the answer, with renewed blushing, from her two pretty nieces, who would have unfailingly supported their aunt's claim during such a visit.

“So please tell us, dear child!” the PC's widow asked the little music enthusiast.

“Well, what am I supposed to tell you? I hadn't learned my lesson and then I got a good spanking.”

“From your mom?”

“No!”

“From whom, then?” asked the Privy Councilor's widow lustfully.

Hesitantly, the young girl answered: “Well—from—from him.”

“Ah, how interesting! Please, give us the details!” cried the ladies.

“Well, when I hadn't learned anything, he said he wanted to tell my Mom so that she could give me a good 'reminder' to work harder. And that's when I begged him not to do that, because Mom is so strict that she would always spank me in a way that was terribly hard and very painful. He then said I must be punished. That if he didn't tell my mother, he would have to spank me himself.”

“And of course you agreed?”

The lovely child remained silent.

“But please, why don't you continue? How did he spank you? Did he take you over his lap?”

“Yes.”

“What did he spank you with?”

“Well, with his hand!”

“Did it hurt very much?”

“Well, I don't think it hurt very much at all!”

“And after your spanking, what happened then?”

“Then? Then he kissed me,” the sweet, embarrassed girl confessed.

“Oh, how charming!” exclaimed the noble ladies enthusiastically. They whispered and laughed quietly and thought to themselves: 'If only, I could have that kind of 'bad' outcome?'

During these conversations, Thekla and the MD's widow each gave me a blow with the inverted rod. I screamed and screamed so much as the tightly tied branches tore into my flesh, that I almost lost my voice.

“Now she's had her 25 strokes,” said the ladies, looking at my bottom and thighs, which had not yet been covered. They also made comparisons between before and now.  Guided by the Governor, they left our room of pain. Following behind, however, at a respectful distance, was the crowd of common women. The Governor and the Surgeon (the latter had given instructions to take me to the infirmary) also went out. Thekla and the young widow untied me.  With great effort I sat down on the edge of the whipping-bench, my limbs were so stiff almost paralyzed. The MD's widow, now a woman again, sat down beside me, kissed and caressed me, and begged me to not to be angry with her because of the pain. “You know, you deserved a thrashing; it was ordered as part of your sentence. It would have been a shame, if you hadn't offered us your beautiful body to practice on!'

Eventually I regained my ability to walk, but only after I had walked back and forth a few times, did my legs regained their strength. Thekla pulled up my panties and stockings, then led me to the infirmary. The widow carried my other clothes. I was still crying loudly as we walked through the halls. Curious and malicious faces peered out of every door as I was led past, dressed only in my shirt, panties, stockings and shoes.

“Look,” it was said, “how they thrashed her naked bottom for her 'Farewell'! But how pretty she still looks! On such fine, thin panties - had she received her 'Welcome” in them, her firm flesh would soon have certainly burst!” and so on.

How glad I was when we first entered the infirmary. Leonora, who was assigned to nursing duty, carefully washed my whipped cheeks and my torn thighs with tears and hot kisses. They weren't so badly damaged after all.  When Leonora put me to bed like a mother putting her child to bed, sobbing I soon fell asleep and only woke up in the late afternoon after a beautiful dreamless sleep. Leonora sat by my bed and caressed me. I wanted to get up straight away because my body no longer hurt so much, but Leonora gently pushed me back into the pillows.

Compared to the 20 lashes with the bull's pizzle I received at my 'Welcomed', today's 25 strokes of the rod were a real joke. To be sure, they had hurt terribly, but my backside was not so savaged as it had been at my Welcome.  Leonora explained to the Surgeon during my deep sleep, that only cold compresses were needed.

Yesterday and day before yesterday, I had to stay in the infirmary, but as a free person. Early this morning, I said goodbye to the Governor and my strict punisher, Thekla. Everyone kissed me goodbye. Lottie, the pretty little arsonist, who now will get to know life in the House of Correction with all its misery, cried loudly.  My dear and only faithful friend in the House of Correction, Leonora, tried in vain to appear calm. She was trembling all over when I turned to her in the doorway and blew her a kiss.

The mail coach is just pulling up; I am writing to you again from N., farewell, eternal thanks to you, you good, dear friend, a thousand heartfelt kisses from your

Nell in Bridewell!

Please feel free to leave comments. Was it worth the time to translate? Did you find this story interesting?  Does it "fit" as an addendum to Nell in Bridewell? Did you find the style consistent with Nell?