'Indelicately, nicely, has she touched you, Astrid?'.

'YA-AH-AAAAH! Oh, stop, please, stop, YES! She f… f… feels me there-oh, I am ashamed to tell it! OH!'.

Sobbing uncontrollably, Astrid was spun over once more onto her back, her scorched bottom throbbing and jerking to the unwonted contact with the silky bedcover upon which Julia nevertheless firmly pressed her so that Astrid's agonised and weeping eyes stared up into her own.

'You are not untruthful, then', Julia purred. 'No, do not struggle, my girl, for a hot bottom is best alleviated by being pressed into something-preferably the torso of a male with a hard prick. The sensation is torturous but yet quite delicious when the waiting knob slips in. Every wriggle of the bottom but assists the invasion that follows. It is called corking, or sheathing, or ramming, or what you will-exactly as in the drawing in my book upon which your eyes fell. Look again, Astrid!', Julia commanded, picking up the volume and holding it before the young woman's bleared eyes.

'It is h… hateful, wicked, oh, I cannot! Take it away!', Astrid pleaded while with a taunting smile Julia traced the outlines of the drawing with her finger. Perfectly delineated, it showed a young woman bent over the back of a chair in the seat of which knelt an older one holding her arms. On the floor lay a cane whose handiwork was evinced by the parallel stripes marking the girl's round bottom. To the rear of her, his knees slightly bent and his trousers at his ankles, crouched a man whose rearing penis was pointed directly between her nether cheeks.

'Wicked, indeed! Such pleasures', Julia laughed throatily, and then, with a sinuous wriggle, slid full down upon Astrid so that every inch of their warm bodies curved into one another's.