See them in your mind, illuminated by the smoky, flickering light of oil lamps and candles. Vague shapes in the near darkness. See this birch I made. ...wigs are still wet from the rain. It’s not very neat I know but I only just went down the garden to cut the osiers. Six of them Margaret. Six lines of fire across your arse with each stroke. Imagine it Margaret. Imagine the audience of men and perhaps some women for they are often more cruel, urging me to hit harder and harder. To go on and on. The deaf boy froze, limbs stretched across bed sheets, his erectionflexed and a single long jet of cum fired from the tip in a stream – aweaker flow of cream pushed forth, not far -- the boy grunted, anothergenerous rope, very white, blasted out like a freshly tapped reserve. Theboy settled back, released of pressure, his penis leaking into thevacuuming tube.Across the way, the small mousy teen lay rigid atop his mattress, everythin muscle in his lanky-limbed body coiled – a spring about. More

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