ARABELLA AND THE ROD 9, tied girls stories



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The villagers crowded round cheering both of them. It had been a memorable contest to finish a memorable day. The stone bottle was passed round again, and from somewhere came brandy for the exhausted contestants. The raw spirit down their throats revived them somewhat, enough to stumble, clutching supporting arms and shoulders, to the trough, where they lay over the rim while gentle hands carefully bathed their wounds, before applying an emollient salve. Gradually Arabella felt some strength returning, until she felt she could stand unaided, and return to the table to retrieve her clothes, and claim her reward. When she was once more fully attired, a process accompanied by many groans and winces, she picked up the eight silver shillings from the table. The `clerk` looked at her ruefully.
"No-one can grudge you your prize, you won it very hardly, but there`s some will be disappointed. We`d taken sure that there`d be ten guineas of money in the village, and that most would see and sup at least some of it. Now they`ll not even have the eight shillings amongst them."
Arabella raised a smile. "No, they will certainly not have the shillings. I intend to have them made up into a bracelet to remind me of my achievement, and perhaps my folly also. I shall wear it always, though I do not suppose that many of my friends will ever learn what it signifies, but as to the guineas, they remain in the village. Give one to each woman that entered, and an extra one to each that survived the first round. Make sure that poor child gets hers. It was not her fault she was thrust into a place suitable for grown women only."
Enthusiastic applause greeted this speech, and the spoils having been divided, the women left in little groups attached to each newly enriched contestant. The `clerk` promised to take the youngster`s prize round to the house she shared with her sisters, who, Arabella understood, could expect a `prize` of their own later, in the form of a limber ash stick.
"And how will you fare, Milady?" asked the `clerk` solicitously. "If you`ll pardon my saying so, you`re in no state to travel. You could stay at my house tonight, and gladly. There`s only my man at home, and he`s a man as`ll keep his mouth shut"
"You are very kind, but I have been so bruised, doubt I`ll be too stiff to move at all by morning, and if I stay here, I fear I`ll be the subject of much speculation, once the rest of the village hears what has occurred. No I must get back to my own people, while I can still walk, for I have no hope that I can sit a horse. I can give out some cock and bull story of being thrown by my horse and being dragged over half a mile of stony track, my foot caught in the stirrup and my weight on my arse."
In the end she went back, kneeling, in the `clerk`s` man`s cart. He helped her down half a mile from her hostess`s door, and she limped in to deliver her alibi.

Nature has formed young women to survive hardship and the brutalities of men, so even the brutalities of their sisters can be endured without ill effect. Three or four weeks later, the marks of the wash house episode had faded to insignificance, though her flank still showed faint signs of the punishment it had received. She regretted nothing of what had occurred, in fact she felt a great sense of achievement, for she had endured, and won, in a test which could not be simulated. That vicious stick was not some fantasy toy that could be used with impunity, but a powerful weapon that seared the flesh and called on all a woman`s resolve and strength to withstand and master it, as it burrowed in, striking, it seemed, into her very soul. She was proud of her trophies, the eight worn shillings and, though she loathed parting with them, even temporarily, had sent them to her London jeweller to have them made up into a bracelet that she intended should be her constant memento. She`d thought long and hard about the setting and had eventually specified that they should be mounted in silver, each coin linked to the next by the silhouette of a ripe peach, executed in coloured enamel on a silver base. She sent them a sketch showing the view she wanted, with the deep cleft leading to the little brown dimple where the stem had been, and the warm natural colour of the fruit enhanced on either cheek with a deep rose flush. She would have liked to have added darker transverse lines, but feared that even the least imaginative observer would have recognised it as a view of a whipped female`s buttocks, as seen by her whipper.




Though she had suffered far more than she had bargained for from her adventures to date, she was in no way deterred from seeking more. Indeed, the very nature of her first bizarre encounter made her eager to find other outr



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