A STOUT LENGTH OF BIRCH by Lisette Ashton

'I know lots of ghost stories, I could keep you awake until dawn recounting some of the bizarre tales I've heard. But if we're all ready for bed, I'll just tell you this one. Mind you, it's a rather special story because it happened here, in this house. And it's not actually a ghost story. The word "story" implies that it's a made-up tale or that it didn't really happen. But this one most certainly did happen - and there's proof.'

Serena shivered nervously. She glanced at Charlotte and saw her sister was studying Parnell with the same dreamy smile that she had worn throughout their meal.

'I already feel spooked,' Charlotte whispered.

Parnell smiled, adjusted his spectacles with a gesture that looked embarrassed, then cleared his throat. 'It's difficult to tie the story down to an exact time period, but since this house was built around the 1840s, and the incident happened shortly after that, it's safe to say it was the early Victorian era. The grounds stretched for miles around, and the owner was making fortunes from his thriving investments in the railways. He had a beautiful wife, two lovely daughters and a host of staff that included a gamekeeper for his pheasant.'

'Barbaric,' Serena whispered.

Seeming uncomfortable beneath her criticism, Parnell shrugged apologetically. 'It was the two daughters who caused the problem. They'd both spent some years away from the house, enjoying an education in one of the few private schools that catered for the fairer sex. When they came back to the house they grew a little bored. The eldest daughter had seen the gamekeeper thrashing the bushes, trying to startle the pheasant with a stout length of birch. She watched him do that for three months before she came to a decision. She wanted him to try thrashing her.'

'Parnell,' their host growled. 'Is this another of your bloody spanky stories?'

'It's all true,' Parnell protested. 'I got most of these details from one of the daughter's diaries. I was asked to research the legend for the local historical society.'

Serena could see something flash between their host and Parnell but she couldn't work out what it was. The meal had been sumptuous and entertaining and had proved the ideal end to their weekend break but she didn't want it to end with an argument. Her expectations were building to something far greater than that. Sensing their host might be trying to shield her and her sister from an unseemly tale, she said, 'I don't mind if it's a ghost story or a spanky story. I just want to hear it then get off to bed.'

Her words were the encouragement Parnell needed. He cast a final glance at their host, then continued. 'It was all in her diaries afterwards, but by the time anyone else read those, it was too late for the gamekeeper. The eldest daughter had something of a penchant for discipline, although no one knows what started her on the habit. Her earlier diaries are filled with graphic entries about some mystery man using a tawse on her. It's impossible to say if this is the recounting of genuine incidents, or simply detailing gratuitous fantasies. Whichever it is, it seems that she had an avaricious appetite for chastisement.'

'Parnell!' their host warned.

Serena frowned at him. Parnell's story had touched a nerve and she wanted to hear more. No, she thought quickly, that wasn't quite right. She didn't want to hear more - she needed to hear more. 'Please,' she broke in. 'Please let him finish.'

Grudgingly, their host nodded assent.

Parnell went on. 'The younger daughter wasn't as enthusiastic but she was known to go along with whatever her sister suggested. The pair of them went to the gamekeeper and asked him to thrash them with his stout length of birch.'

'I can't believe that,' Charlotte interrupted. 'Even nowadays, no one would dare to do that, would they?'

Parnell grinned at her and Serena noticed his smile was always that tiniest bit broader when he spoke to Charlotte. She catalogued this observation, sure that she would be able to use it to her advantage later on.

'We all have a mindset about the propriety of the Victorian age,' Parnell explained. 'But we have to remember that the Victorians were only people, pretty similar to ourselves. They had appetites and desires much like those we have today and, whilst it would have been difficult for a young Victorian woman to state her needs so directly, it wouldn't have been beyond her. As the gamekeeper was in her father's employ, she would have probably seen it as little more than another instruction for one of the staff.'

Serena decided it was a plausible theory. She could see that Charlotte was coming to the same conclusion, although it was difficult to read all her sister's thoughts whilst she gazed at Parnell. Charlotte's inane grin was the perfect reflection for Parnell's broad smile.

'Just because it wasn't the done thing, that didn't mean it wasn't done.'

Charlotte nodded and Parnell continued.

'Of course, the gamekeeper refused at first but the eldest daughter was insistent. One diary entry says that she had been watching him thrash for pheasant and, "was stricken by a delicious fever like I had never known." She described her fever more fully but it doesn't take the Rosetta Stone to translate what she really meant. Nowadays we wouldn't say she "had a fever," we'd just say, "she had the hots".'

Serena smiled at this and in the same instant saw their host frown.

Telling his story, Parnell seemed oblivious to all of them except Charlotte. 'They asked him on three occasions and the gamekeeper refused as many times. The final time, the eldest daughter blackmailed him. She said if he didn't do it, they'd thrash one another and tell their father that the gamekeeper was responsible. They detailed the repercussions he would suffer and the poor man was left with no option. He had to do as they asked.'

'That is so manipulative.'

Serena glanced up and saw their host's wife had made this declaration.

Their host squeezed her hand and winked. 'It's so manipulative, and so unlike a woman,' he intoned sardonically.

She gave his arm a playful punch and turned her attention back to Parnell. 'What happened?'

Charlotte nodded, encouraging Parnell to continue. 'Yes, what happened?'

As Serena had known he would, Parnell responded to her sister's question. 'The gamekeeper did as the girls asked and he acted on their specific instructions. They wanted him to thrash them, using his stout length of birch. They wanted him to do it beneath a full moon, under the oak tree in front of the house. The eldest daughter seems to have had some exact idea in her mind but her diaries don't explain where it came from. Perhaps she had read it in a book, or maybe she just heard it in a story. That's one aspect that we're never going to know. However, the diaries do detail the thrill she got and I can remember that part verbatim.'

He swallowed and closed his eyes before reiterating the memorised passage. '"His first blow was like a bee sting and his second was worse. It was the precise sensation that my body craved but it didn't assuage my fever. It made my blood begin to boil and nowhere was that more apparent than inside my womanliness."

'As I said,' Parnell grinned, 'she had the hots.'

Serena watched him wink at Charlotte and was surprised to see her sister return the surreptitious gesture. Beneath the table, Serena gave Charlotte a warning kick on the shin.

'At the beginning, they'd asked him to give each girl six of the best but, as it turned out, that wasn't enough to satisfy either of them. When the six were done, they wanted more and the thrashing went on for a good hour. It might have continued into the morning but unfortunately they were discovered.'

'My God!' Charlotte exclaimed.

Serena was intrigued. 'Who caught them?'

'They were caught by the owner of the house. Returning from his gentleman's club, he was outraged and demanded an explanation, but no one could give him that. Both daughters knew it would presage their downfall if they told him the truth. I suppose they were right - it was the Victorian age and if the two young ladies had said they were being willingly thrashed, it would have caused a sensational scandal. The gamekeeper tried saying he hadn't done anything, but he had a piece of birch in his hands and the daughters had striped and reddened backsides to prove that something had gone on. With that sort of evidence against him, the gamekeeper eventually fell silent. He stayed silent until they hung him an hour later.'

'My God!' Charlotte gasped again. 'How could he have been tried and sentenced so quickly?'

Parnell shook his head. 'Vigilante justice wasn't common back then, but it did happen. The house owner was influential enough to be forgiven for such judicial decisions and, at the end of the day, the gamekeeper's job was only another staff vacancy.'

'That's terrible,' Charlotte told him.

'The strange thing is, the gamekeeper actually had an alibi as to why he wasn't there. One of the housemaids saw him outside the kitchens, whilst the thrashing was meant to be happening. She spoke to him and although he didn't tell her his reasons, he did tell her that he was looking for a stout length of birch. They talked for a short while and the conversation ended just before the owner returned. According to the housemaid, the gamekeeper didn't have the time to thrash either of them. However, she only spoke up whilst the gamekeeper was still swinging from his rope.'

'If he didn't do it, then who did?'

Parnell shrugged. 'I think the gamekeeper must have done it. There was no one else in the vicinity to carry it out and the eldest daughter is uncommonly open and frank about everything like that in her diaries.'

'But you said there was proof,' Serena reminded him.

'There's proof that something happened,' Parnell agreed. 'And not just because of what's written in her diaries. After the incident, the family tried to put it behind them but the gamekeeper wouldn't allow that. The first sounds started on the night of the next full moon.'

Serena swallowed. Her skin had turned to gooseflesh and she could feel the prickle of every stiffening hair on her body. It was a surprisingly arousing sensation and she tried to ignore its pleasant tingle by concentrating on Parnell's words.

'The sounds were loud enough to wake the entire household. According to the diaries they were the most bone-chilling sounds anyone has ever heard. From the front of the house, beginning at the base of the oak tree, there came the sound of a birch slicing through air. It's not a loud sound - try swinging a length of birch yourself and you'll hear - but on this occasion, it shrieked through the night. Every month after that, as soon as the moon turned full, the sound recurred. Even then, people were sceptical enough to doubt that it could be a ghost, but there has never been any other explanation. The sound would come on windless nights and whenever any brave soul went to investigate, they never found any earthly reason for what they had heard. All they ever found, unusual to find beneath an oak in itself, was a stout length of birch, propped against the base of the tree.'

Serena shivered.

'The family tolerated it for six months and then they left.'

Parnell's voice had turned matter-of-fact and Serena guessed he had reached the end of his tale. That realisation did nothing to calm the nervous prickle that thrilled along her spine. An idea was forming in the back of her mind and, as much as she tried to push it away, it stubbornly remained and grew more appealing.

'The owner realised he'd done wrong by the gamekeeper and they say the sound haunted him to the end of his days. More than anyone else, he firmly believed the noise was caused by the gamekeeper, perpetually carrying out the final duty that he had been given - the task he had been hung for performing.'

Thick silence cloaked the room. Beneath the monotonous tick of the grandfather clock, Serena could hear the deepening pitch of her own excited breath.

'The sounds are still meant to occur now and again, but in this age of insulation and double-glazing you'd have to be outside to hear it,' Parnell told them. 'All you have to do is wait for the night of the full moon, stand beneath the oak tree, and they say you can hear every slice of the birch descending.' He adjusted his glasses again and glanced at the grandfather clock. 'They also say that if you go out there just after midnight, propped against the oak tree, you'll find a stout length of birch.'

Serena could hear her heart pounding.

'And with that said,' Parnell told them, 'I'm going to excuse myself and get some much needed sleep.'

There was a murmur of goodnights as Parnell made his way out of the room. Serena feigned a theatrical yawn and said, 'I think I should turn in now.' She kicked Charlotte's leg beneath the table and, for the benefit of their hosts, glanced at her with an expression of polite enquiry. 'Are you ready to retire, sis?'

'Apparently,' Charlotte replied.

Ignoring her questioning frown, Serena said goodnight to their hosts and escorted her sister from the room. 'What do you think?' Serena asked, as soon as they had reached the stairs. 'What do you think?'

'I think you should stop kicking my leg when we're at dinner parties,' Charlotte replied. 'I thought you'd broken that habit when you were six. I'm going to have a bruise now.'

'I don't mean about my kicking you,' Serena hissed, not bothering to disguise her impatience. 'I'm talking about Parnell's story. Did it give you any ideas?'

Charlotte shrugged. 'It made me question the dubious mentality of our hosts and their guests. Or did you mean something other than that?'

Wearily, Serena shook her head. They mounted the stairs quickly and she pushed her sister into the shared bedroom before daring to raise her voice above a whisper.

'I want to try it.'

Charlotte rolled her eyes. 'Have you been mixing travel sickness pills and alcohol again?'

'I mean it. I want to try it.'

Charlotte shook her head. 'No way.'

'Didn't the idea excite you? Didn't it give you a thrill just thinking about it?'

'No,' Charlotte said firmly. She frowned and then asked, 'What idea?'

'The idea of being spanked beneath a full moon. Doesn't the thought send your pulse racing?'

Charlotte shook her head. 'No.' She looked as though she was trying to make her denial sincere but Serena could see something shining in her sister's eyes.

'Well, the thought sends my pulse racing,' she decided. 'Look.' She was standing by the window with the curtains pulled back. With an accusing finger, she pointed at the full moon. It stood brilliant silver against the night's blackness.

Charlotte glanced at it, then looked away. 'You're crazy,' she whispered.

'It's a full moon,' Serena told her. 'Perhaps you can't see it, but I know exactly why the eldest daughter wanted to be spanked in such a way. Can't you imagine the excitement of being chastised in a situation like that? Can't you picture the thrill of a full moon and the chilling sound of a sweeping birch? Can't you imagine the sensation of having that stout length of birch landing against your buttocks?'
'I'm going to bed, Serena,' Charlotte said coldly. She began picking at the buttons on the front of her blouse. 'Try not to wake me if you have any more grotesque fantasies.'

Serena stepped towards her and grabbed her wrist.

'What are you doing?'

'You're coming with me. We'll ask Parnell if he can oblige us both.'

Charlotte shook her head. 'No way.'

'You two have been giving one another eyes all weekend,' Serena reminded her. 'He'll do it if you ask.'

'He won't do it for me, because I won't ask,' Charlotte said simply. 'No way, sister. No.'

Serena glared at her. 'Please,' she started. 'I really want to try this. I don't know why, but it feels important to me.'

'No way.' She glared up from the bed with an adamant expression thinning her lips.

Serena snatched her hand away and turned her back. Slumping her shoulders into a sulk, she growled, 'I should have expected as much. You never do anything for me, do you?'

It was a calculated posture, and her words were equally well-planned.

Charlotte sighed heavily, 'This isn't fair Serena. You always say things like that and we both know they're not true. I do loads of things for you.'

Serena listened attentively, waiting for Charlotte's next words. In the punishing silence, she heard Charlotte sigh again before deciding to relent.

'I'm not happy about it, but if you really want us to do it...'

Before she could finish the sentence, Serena had snatched at her hand and started tugging her out of the bedroom in search of Parnell.

Afterwards Serena realised that Parnell had refused three times before consenting to do as they asked. She had stated her desires boldly at first and he had refused with the same frank tone. She had tried pleading with him - saying that she knew he would get a lot out of the chastisement - but he had still said no. It was only when Charlotte asked that he grudgingly agreed.

'Just stand there,' he told them. 'Backsides out, bending forward with your hands against the oak.' He used a stiff, authoritative voice and Serena could feel her knees beginning to weaken as she listened to him. Her anticipation for this moment had grown from a tingling interest in the dining hall to an unquenchable need beneath the tree. The night was clement with only the mildest breeze to tease her hair as it fell over her face. She glanced at her sister and hissed, 'Isn't this exciting?'

'No talking,' Parnell growled.

His tone defied argument and Serena fell silent and straightened into a submissive pose.

'Neither of you will speak whilst I'm doing this, or I'll simply stop. None of us are going to say another word until we're finished.'

Serena nodded and from the corner of her eye she saw that Charlotte was giving the same eager assent. Intuitively, Parnell seemed to have guessed that she wanted silence for this little ceremony. Any talking throughout their punishment would have lessened her picture of how things were going to develop.

'I'm going to prepare you both, then I'll find myself a length of birch and begin.'

Serena drew a heavy breath, surprised by the quickening of her excitement. She heard his footsteps squash the grass as he approached and she felt the caress of his trouser leg against her backside. The sensation evoked a ripple of pleasure she had difficulty concealing.

Without a word, he reached for her skirt and unfastened the button at the waistband. The sound of the drawing zipper was deafening in the still night but the noise was almost drowned out beneath the hammering pulse in her temples. His hands were cool, but not unbearable and she didn't flinch as he tugged the skirt away from her body. However, it was impossible to remain properly still when he reached for her panties.

Ignoring her unspoken protest, Parnell eased his thumbs beneath the band over her hips and pulled the garment down.

She could feel the fabric pulling away from her buttocks and knew she was being exposed. The thought sent her body's need spiralling upwards. As her breathing deepened, she wondered if he was able to discern just how excited she was. Admittedly, in spite of the full moon, it was still a dark night but she felt sure that he would be able to see her wetness or sense the perfume of her arousal. Aware that those thoughts were driving her wild with anticipation, she gripped the oak tree harder. Deliberately, she tried not to register the caress of her panties as he tugged them down her legs.

'You look ready to be thrashed,' he said, drawing his hand against one cheek.

Serena blushed, surprised by her response to him. The palm of his hand cupped one buttock whilst the tips of his fingers fell close to her sex. She knew he wasn't touching her accidentally and felt sure she could feel his fingers combing through the curls above her sex. The sensation was subtle but it fired a heat that left her sweating. She squeezed her thighs together and was surprised by the thrill of pleasure that rippled through her body.

When he moved away, she knew he had gone to tend to her sister. She heard Charlotte's shocked gasp as Parnell began to undress her, but the sound tapered off to a sigh of whispered permission. They were bending for him with their hips touching and Serena could feel the afterecho of each movement vibrating from her sister. She felt the tug of the skirt as it was removed and, as a second-hand experience, she enjoyed the caress of Charlotte's panties being tugged away.

'Why are you wanting to go through with this?' Charlotte whispered.

Serena shrugged. 'I don't know. I just need to do it,' she replied honestly.

'I suppose I can understand that.' Charlotte agreed.

In the darkness, Serena could hear the smile in her sister's voice and knew the moment's excitement had touched her as well.

'No more talking.' Parnell's brisk voice sliced through the air.

Charlotte made a surprised sound and Serena wondered if he was touching her as he spoke. She wouldn't have put it past him and if he was, she wondered how he had managed to contain himself for so long. The attraction between him and her sister had been obvious from the first day of the weekend.

'No more talking,' he repeated.

Charlotte purred by way of response and Serena contemplated glancing over her shoulder to see what they were doing. Tiny shivers were emanating from the hip against hers and she realised the tremors were caused by Charlotte's growing excitement. Under other circumstances she might have thought there was something perverse about experiencing the shadows of her sister's arousal, but on this evening it didn't seem inappropriate.

She tried to shut the thought from her mind, surprised by the intense reaction it evoked. Her pulse was pounding so loudly she felt certain she was going to be driven mad by its deafening throb.

Charlotte's tremors continued to quicken and Serena could feel her own excitement building. She swallowed thickly and moved her hip more forcibly against her sister's pleasurable shivers.

'I'll go and find some birch,' Parnell whispered.

Serena thought she heard the whisper of a kiss before hearing his shoes against the grass.

As soon as she felt sure Parnell was out of earshot, she pushed her face close to her sister's. 'He wants you badly,' she murmured.

Charlotte's reply was a husky whisper. 'He can have me badly,' she grinned. 'He's already got me more excited than I would have believed.'

Ignoring the weight of envy that nestled in her stomach, Serena opened her mouth to say something encouraging about her sister's good fortune.

The whistle of a birch sliced through her thoughts.

She didn't bother wondering how Parnell had managed to get back to them so quickly. Her backside was aflame with the sudden sting of wood against her exposed cheeks.

Charlotte started to say something but her reply was cut off by a second whistle. Instead of speaking, she released a grunt of discomfort. The sound was almost lost by the snap of wood striking flesh.

'He didn't want us speaking,' Serena reminded her sister. 'Not another word, remember.'

Charlotte nodded and as she moved her head, Serena could see she was squeezing her eyes against the threat of tears. She empathised with her sister's anguish and then forgot about her when the second blow struck her exposed cheeks. The birch landed across both buttocks, inspiring a fury of pleasurable pain.

The length of wood rose and fell with the monotony of the ticking grandfather clock. The stripes were delivered in a punishingly slow tempo, with one blow for her, then another for Charlotte. Each descent managed to find a new target and she was surprised by the thoroughness of the punishment. A dozen stripes had landed against her and it didn't feel as though the same piece of skin had been touched twice. The moons of her arse cheeks felt hot and red and she found herself flinching from the birch's descent before the length had landed.

The wood whistled loudly as it fell, its shriek presaging a blistering eruption that was too intense to be wholly painful.

As each blow landed, Serena realised that their burden was being distributed evenly. The birch struck her arse and, whilst she was still trying to adjust herself to its bitter kiss, she heard it fall against her sister. When she believed she had almost come to terms with the intensity of the last blow, the next one fell more firmly.

It was the experience she had known it would be and then some more. The combination of moonlight, punishment and sexual excitement were forbidden thrills that worked as catalysts for one another. The harsh pain of each impact barely registered beneath the spreading warmth of her arousal. With every alternate blow, when Charlotte was enduring the birch, Serena found herself anticipating the next stinging assault. The combination of sensation left her feeling giddy and wanton.

Charlotte was breathing deeply, each exhalation coming in a laboured gasp. Serena thought she could feel the sensation through their touching hips, then wondered if she was the one who was causing it. The heat of her backside was furious but peculiarly warming. Her arse felt burnt by the wood but it was not an unpleasant sensation. Remembering the quote that Parnell had given from the diaries, she realised that someone had already described exactly how she felt.

"It made my blood begin to boil and nowhere was that more apparent than inside my womanliness."

The words echoed through her mind as though they were being whispered in her ear. The need between her legs was euphoric and she knew she couldn't resist it for another moment. Squeezing her thighs together, Serena snatched one hand from the tree and pushed it against herself.

A shockwave of pleasure rushed through her body. She had been told not to make a sound, but beneath the stimulation of so much pleasure it was a command that she could no longer obey. She screamed her elation into the night as the orgasm battered its way through her. Every nerve-ending was pulled taut by the shrill climax that hurtled through her. The eruption was so strong she felt sure she was leaving the impressions of her fingernails in the oak's rough bark.

When the ripples of joy began to subside, she realised the birching had stopped. In a way it was a saddening thought and she wondered if there would be any chance of continuing with the game once she had been given the opportunity to apply some sorely needed cold cream. She blinked her gaze free from the misty haze of her pleasure and wondered if she dared to turn and thank her tormentor. It was only a passing thought, almost drowned out by the fading echo of her guttural sighs.

'Right, ladies.'

Parnell's voice had a grin to it that Serena could hear through the ringing in her ears. She heard his footsteps treading grass as he came closer, and she listened as he tested his strip of birch through the air.

'Now I've found a piece of wood, we can begin.'

'Begin?' Serena repeated doubtfully. She glanced at Charlotte but her sister's face was obscured by shadows from the overhanging oak tree. She wondered how Parnell could use the word "begin" after what he had just done for them.

'Yes, begin,' Parnell repeated. There was a disappointed frown in his voice when he asked, 'or have you changed your minds?'

She glanced back over her shoulder and studied his face, trying to see if he was teasing. To listen to him, it sounded as though he hadn't even been there when they got their backsides thrashed.

But he had to have been there, she thought wildly. Rising panic was tightening her chest and making her forget all the punishingly pleasurable sensations that she had just endured. Glancing down at the reddened cheeks of her arse, she knew that he had to have been there and, from the corner of her eye, she saw the proof that confirmed that thought. Propped against the base of the oak tree, looking as though it had only just been left there, Serena could see a stout length of birch.

Copyright (c) Lisette Ashton 2004

This story first appeared in THE HOT SPOT No 2. www.hotspotbooks.co.uk All copyrights are recognised and are acknowledged to be the property of their respective owners....

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