The proud and manly flesh swelled as the young man, in first month of his nineteenth year, rubbed his Peter up and down. In the full bloom of tumescence his member was a testament to Venus herself, carved not out of marble from the quarries of Old Rome, but of flesh. Oh what a glorious feeling it was as images of the female bosom filled his imagination! The other boys had told him about frigging and knew it was wrong, but now in the first blush of manhood, he could not help himself.
In the darkness -- both literal and in the more figurative sense of his act, he moved his errant and sinful hand faster and faster in fervent anticipation of that moment when his seed would burst forth like the eruption of Vesuvius and cover the inside of his bed linens with its telltale milky and glutinous fluid.
So enraptured was he of this shameful act, my dear reader, that he was unaware of the door to his room opening and a silent and dark figure that glided to the side of bed.
Unaware, that is, until the mistress of the house -- for that is who the shadowy figure was of course, looking on her young charge now so rapturously occupied by his sinful act of self pollution -- pulled, with a great and righteous flourish his bed coverings off of him, exposing his shame. There it bobbed in the air, a pale, venous and throbbing agent of the Beast himself. A viscous and clear liquid covered the head, glistening in the light of her lamp. She knew, from years of dealing with obstinate and uncouth youth, exactly what the young man had been doing and the passions that moved him. Still this knowledge this did not temper her fury -- if anything, it added to it. This boy would learn, as all the others had, the penalty for such contemptible and disgusting pursuits of fleshy pleasure. The flesh would most certainly pay a terrible price.
"You horrible, vile boy. What do you think you are doing?" she cried.
The young man could only stammer in terrified response, but pity for him, his unyielding and florid Peter was articulate only in the language of its carnal appetites and it took this most inopportune time to speak. You see, the images of boobies with their bright pink nipples had so taken the imagination of the lad and he was so far along on his path to perdition and ruin that, even as he removed his naughty hand, his Peter twitched once and the slit eye opened and sent a voluminous quantity of the nectar of his loins high into the air. Oh, as cruel fate would have it, the ejecta found its apogee and like Icarus of old, began its fall to earth crashing not to ruin upon the ground, but upon the lace that covered the left breast of the mistress.
A preternatural calm overtook the mistress and time ceased its incessant running, coming to a stop, standing still in the quiet of the room. It was quite the tableau: the shamed and frightened young man, his hardness jutting into the air and the stained woman, standing as quietly as a bust in a mausoleum as a fearsome fury radiated from her. When she spoke, her voice was barely above a whisper. Perhaps, she was, my dear reader, speaking only for her own benefit.
"I see. For you, my dear boy, for you, it shall be the mustard. Yes, the mustard."
She then smiled the most cruel of smiles and in a louder voice said, "Wait here. In your present, shameful state. I shall return. I shall return with the mustard."
The mustard poultice. Now, lest you not be schooled in the ways of this frightful and terrible chastisement, pray let me enlighten you. Let me tell you of the preparations the mistress took while the poor boy awaited his punishment.
For this punishment, this distasteful yet necessary chore, the mistress of the house was compelled to call upon the services of kitchen maid. This servant was startled to be awoken from the grip of Morpheus, but complied with the commands of the mistress of the house without question or complaint. A young maiden, the kitchen maid was a step above a scullery maid and was in her nineteenth year, with dark hair and eyes not yet dulled by the vagrancies of advanced years.
We next find the two women in the kitchen of the house, as the ingredients of the young man's punishment were thus:
Several ounces of bran, a spoonful of salt and a generous spoonful of Doctor Robert's flower of mustard seed. With respect to the culinary provenance of these items, it did make a certain sense that the kitchen maid would be called to service. But beyond this merely functional matter, the mistress of the house knew the young man's shame would be increased ten-fold by the presence of the lovely specimen of weaker sex. But, dear reader, it was his weakness that she must deal with now.
The kitchen maid put a kettle to boil as the mistress visited the laundry. From the linen closet she procured several pieces of flannel, some calico and a piece fine muslin cloth. She then cut several strips of a thick canvas so that she might bind the miscreant to his bed of shame. He must be immobilized to receive the full corrective measure of his chastisement! And receive it he shall.
Before returning to the kitchen she went to the bedroom and tied the now shaking and naked young man with the canvas, securing him as though a trussed bird in a butcher's shop. Still the serpent bobbed erect, jutting upward in all of its obscene glory. In the silence, the mistress knelt on the bed, bent over and gently took it into her mouth, tasting the lust of youth. It was over in a moment and shortly she returned to the preparations in the kitchen.
Upon the instructions of the mistress, the kitchen maid prepared the poultice that would soon be applied to the offending young man.
She put the bran atop a pan of boiling water such that it absorbed the heat. The mistress opened the stove and added another stick to the fire and the maid stirred the salt into the now very hot bran. She then, using a wooden spatula, spread the scalding and thick mixture over a piece of calico, to a depth of an inch or so. Once this was done, she wrapped the calico into a neat, disciplined package slightly larger than the young man's genitals. Oh, how hot it was. The kitchen maid was surprised at the touch that burned her fingers.
Next, they prepared the irritant. The kitchen maid soaked a piece of the flannel in the boiling water and covered it with a thick coating of the mustard flower. This was then covered by the fine muslin from the laundry.
The kitchen made looked at her mistress and asked a question. "Will this hurt the young master?"
"Yes my dear. It will hurt him very, very much. He will think he is dying."
A sense joy filled the young woman as she put the steaming poultice and hot mustard soaked cloth onto a china plate.
The two women returned to the young man bearing their evil gifts of chastisement. His eyes opened wide at the sight of the comely young maiden and her steaming plate. He did not have long to wonder of his fate.
