The Soul of a Maiden
by Alex Birch

'Phew, thank God.  At last we've arrived!' exclaimed Kerry Stevens as she and
her companion trudged round yet another bend in the never ending narrow country
road and at last glimpsed the spire of the local church and the old village sign
which announced their arrival in 'Berthyn' .  She paused and rested her
haversack on the ground as Mark Ransome squeezed her hand lightly and grinned.
'Not quite ...' he replied '...it's another half a mile to the pub so don't rest
yet or you won't want to go on!'

Kerry groaned and flashed him a mournful smile.  'You miserable sod...' she
groaned '...but I suppose you're right.  God you're a hard taskmaster!' and bent
to the task of retrieving her haversack.  As she reached down then straightened
up and adjusted the haversack firmly across her back, Mark felt the flush
beginning in his cheeks as Kerry's movement of throwing back her shoulders
forced her firm young breasts invitingly through the blue 'National Trust' T
shirt and the bend of her shapely bottom to stretch her blue denim shorts close
to breaking point.

Mark swallowed and looked away hoping she had not caught him staring nor that
the sudden bulge in his shorts was too obvious.  He thought she had never looked
more beautiful than she did at that moment despite the perspiration which
streaked down her pretty face creating a warm glow in her English rose cheeks.
She rubbed one hand through her curly chestnut hair again forcing her breasts to
stretch against the cotton of her shirt.  Mark wanted so much to caress those
breasts, to kiss away the perspiration on her face, to peel down her ...but his
reverie was interrupted by a taunt of 'Come on slowcoach!' , then looking up, he
saw his adorable vision now thirty yards ahead of him and striding towards the
centre of the villlage.

Mark had been overjoyed when Kerry agreed to come on this short working holiday
with him for they had known each other only a matter of months, both doing the
same local history course as part of their degree at Exeter University.  He had
always been shy with girls and had never got into the birds and booze lifestyle
so beloved by many of his fellow students.  He'd noticed Kerry on day 1 of
course..who wouldn't ..she was so beautiful that every stud was hanging round
her but with his usual lack of confidence he'd just smiled occasionally in
passing and, to his delight, she'd always smiled back with a warmth that made
him feel ten feet tall.

Then one day she was suddenly standing next to him in the refectory queue and
talking to him about a history paper he'd written and how good it was.  Mark was
bowled over and soon they were lunching together, laughing together, doing their
course work together and, eventually, going out together to the cinema and for
meals.  The Uni studs were foaming at the mouth with envy, Mark's status rising
overnight as his fellow students demanded to know what it was he'd got to be
'giving her one every night of the week!' and he'd laugh lightly and shrug his
shoulders.

The trouble was he wasn't giving her one any night of the week.  Not for the
want of trying either although Mark acknowledged his lack of expertise in the
art of seduction, his only consolation being in the fact that the professional
Romeos fared worse than he did, cut down to size politely but very definitely
because Kerry was a nice girl in the old fashioned sense of the word.  She
didn't do it with anybody at all, she never had and wouldn't, she said firmly,
until she'd got her degree and was in a steady relationship which would
hopefully lead to marriage.  Mark had to content himself with the thought that
she'd chosen him as her boyfriend and he still couldn't even believe that much
luck!

Some months before he had heard via a local newspaper about the village of
'Berthyn' only 40 miles away on the edge of the moors which had a strange and
interesting history.  The name was old English and did indeed mean 'Birthing'
which would not particularly raise eyebrows except that the nativity rate in the
village was about three times the national average and Mark wanted to find out
more.  There were other strange things too which he was determined to
investigate, for his own interest and for a contribution to his thesis.  He had
planned to go on his own but then thought how wonderful it would be to have
Kerry for company.  To his delight, she'd accepted with warmth and enthusiasm,
never once doubting his motives, for by now she knew him well enough to trust
him to book single rooms and not try anything silly for that would have meant
the end of their relationship.

As he gazed at Kerry now striding purposefully on, Mark tried to forget his
frustrations, catching up quickly as they began the walk into the village past a
few curious onlookers who stared pointedly as they walked by.  Berthyn was so
picturesque, like a picture postcard of old England, with Cottam's drapers shop,
the Excelsior tea room, Nathaniel Blane's funeral parlour, Ellison's general
store, the parish church of St Matthew and St Giles then, finally, the Tudor
gables of 'The Lamb and Flag' where they had booked rooms for the week.

'Wow, this place is really quaint ...' Kerry whispered as they walked into the
old oak panelled hallway of the pub '...and it's really nice.  I'm going to
enjoy this break, Mark!' and she squeezed his arm warmly as Mark smiled back at
her.  They could hear the noise coming from the lounge bar in front of them and
were just about to go through when a small door just past the stairs at the end
of the hall opened and a plump pleasant faced woman in her mid fifties bustled
through into the hall.  'Can I help you, m'dears...?' she said warmly '...you
look as if you've walked miles!  A good glass of our ale will put you to
rights!'

Mark grinned.  'Sounds good ...' he said '...now you must be Mrs Foster.  We
spoke on the phone.  You should have two single rooms in the name of Ransome!'
Megan Foster smiled again and went back for the register.  'Here we are...' she
said on returning ' ...two ...' she looked up from Kerry to Mark and then back
again with an expression of bemused doubt '...single rooms?'

Kerry nodded and Mark tried hard not to flush with embarrassment.  Christ,
landladies used to kick you out if unmarried couples tried to share a room now
they look at you oddly if you don't!  She thinks I'm a complete ‘wus’ , he
thought bitterly, definitely 'one of those'!  Dispelling his paranoia he managed
to confirm the room bookings with some dignity and they were ushered upstairs to
find two charming bedrooms next to each other looking out onto the wooded
outskirts of the village and with a direct view of Martha's Peak, the only
promontory of any reasonable size for some miles around the town.  It was this
hill, in addition to the village itself, whose mysteries fascinated Mark for he
had followed up the initial newspaper report with some research in his local
library.  That had pointed him to a historian named Arthur Newsome who had
written a local guide to Berthyn back in 1933.

Newsome had made reference to a ceremony on Martha's Peak which took place once
a year and which, he wrote, was shrouded in almost Masonic secrecy.  His book
reported that only the women of the village were involved and that it had been
impossible to find out any details but he had conjectured that the ceremony was
probably pagan but harmless.  Newsome had found an old lady who told him that
the ceremony dated back to Saxon times and she told him an old Saxon name which
Newsome vaguely translated as celebrating the purity of a maiden's soul but the
historian could glean no more.

This was why Mark had booked this very week for this coming Friday, the first in
September, was the date of the ceremony and Mark's curiosity was aroused.  It
would be great stuff for his thesis.  When he'd explained all this with boyish
intensity to Kerry she had enthused warmly and pledged to help his detective
work in every way possible.

After a quick freshen up, Kerry and Mark went down to dinner and found that
apart from an elderly couple who hardly said a word, they were the only
residents in the pub.  They had plenty of time to talk to Megan Foster and to
meet her landlord husband Jack.  Both Kerry and Mark took to the couple
immediately, both of them typically bluff and hearty country people with ample
girths and generous hearts to match.  Mark asked Jack Foster about the
background to the village name and the landlord was only too glad to enlighten
him.

'Oh aye, it's been called that for hundreds of years !' Jack said cheerfully
'.Do you know in the old days, husbands used to bring their barren wives here to
stay and take part in the old ceremonies then, when they got home, 90% of 'em
were pregnant within a month.  Them so called experts never fathomed it out
though.  One of our country mysteries you might say!  Perhaps its the spring
water in the beer ...or maybe it was the local milkman!' and he chortled loudly
at his own jest.

Kerry and Megan were hitting it off too though when Kerry tried to ask some
innocuous question about the 'Soul of the Maiden' ceremony, Megan just laughed
and passed over it.  At one point Kerry became uncomfortably aware that Megan
Foster was trying to weigh up the relationship between her and Mark and that it
wouldn't be long before the woman's curiosity got the better of her.  Her
suspicion was confirmed next day after Mark had announced his intention of
visiting the local library for an hour and Kerry had opted to have a lie in and
a late breakfast.  She was alone in the breakfast room when Megan Foster bustled
in with the eggs and toast then without being invited parked herself in the
spare dining chair opposite.

'It's so nice to have a lovely young pair like yourselves staying here ...'
Megan began warmly '...do you know, before you signed in different names an'
all, I thought you might be brother and sister.  Then I saw how he looks at you
...' she paused and grinned as Kerry blushed crimson '...and then I knew you
weren't!'  Ignoring the girl's obvious embarrassment, Megan stared hard into her
eyes  'An' you like him lots an' all if I'm not mistaken.  It seems a shame, you
know, single rooms n' all.  Bit unusual these days!'

Under normal circumstances, Kerry would been riled by such intimate prying but
Megan was so warm, friendly and uncomplicated that she found herself explaining
that she and Mark were close friends, that one day she might want it to be more
but she'd been brought up to believe that sex should be part of a long term
relationship to be considered once her education was complete.  When she'd
finished, Kerry was red faced and very embarrassed but Megan just clutched her
hand and smiled.  'I s'pose we're a bit simple out here ...' she replied with a
chuckle '...we just lets nature take its course...which is why we're 'Berthyn' I
s'pose!'

When Mark returned Kerry decided not to tell him about her conversation with
Megan, anxious not to stir up his frustrations even more, and they went out to
look around the village and into the old parish church hoping that the parish
register might throw up some clues about the village and in particular the 'Soul
of the Maiden' ceremony but there was little there to help.  They spent the
afternoon on the river in a punt which Mark rowed as Kerry lay back, hands
behind her head enjoying the sun.  Mark tried hard not to stare at her lying
back in repose like that, her one leg drawn up under the light cotton skirt, an
occasional glimpse of her panties as the breeze ruffled her skirt.  He could
have cried in frustration but just rowed the boat as if he hadn't a care in the
world.

After a few drinks in the bar later that night, Kerry decided to retire to bed
fairly early and after giving Mark a kiss she retired for the night leaving him
in the bar with his thoughts .  When he finally retired to bed, he lay on his
side for what seemed like hours, thinking of how close the girl was in the next
room, how good she would feel next to him in bed.  He rolled over and over
unable to control his thoughts or his firm erection then finally decided to get
up and go to the bathroom for a glass of water.  It was 1am and he padded across
the landing quietly for fear of waking the Fosters whose bedroom he passed en
route.

As he passed their door his ears picked up sounds which made him stop dead in
his tracks, tiptoe to the bedroom door and put his ear to the keyhole.  The
sounds were louder now, the firm but soft thwaaaack! of a leather belt or
slipper on what was clearly bare flesh and the ensuing soft feminine cry a split
second later.  The pattern was repeated ten or twelve times more then Megan
Foster's cries got louder.  Mark began to tremble with excitement as he imagined
what was going on in there, then he heard Jack Foster's deeper but gentle voice
saying 'Not so loud, you noisy bissom, you'll wake the guests' and then the
spanking began again as Mark hurried on to the bathroom shaking like a leaf.

By the time he got back to his room, Mark was still aroused thinking of what
he'd heard and imagined Kerry lying naked across his knees as he brought his
hand down on her bare shapely globes.  Desperately he rolled over and began
counting sheep, finally dropping off to sleep in the early hours.

Megan Foster lay on her stomach in bed the next morning as her husband gently
rubbed her bottom with cream.  'Oooooh, that's lovely, Jack ...' she whispered
'...you certainly laid it on all right.  My arse felt like a million bee stings
all night!' then she smiled as her husband bent down and softly kissed both
cheeks of her glowing bottom.

'I was thinking about those two kids ...' she said '...and how we could help
'em.  They both want each other that's obvious but she's got this 'saving it for
her wedding' rubbish in her 'ead!'
'Oh ar ...' Jack muttered, grinning as he rubbed some cream into Megan's
intimate crease '...matchmaking again, eh!'

'Not at all ...' she replied '...they're obviously made for each other but she
needs a little push from mother nature.  She's a real virgin, Jack, honest.
Told me so herself.  What if we break one tradition on Friday to restore
another?  We ain't 'ad a real virgin as 'maid of honour' in years an' I know she
ain't from the village but that Kerry would be a wonderful choice.  Help them
two along no end an' all!  Diane wouldn't mind giving way, er's been 'Maid of
Honour' two years out of the last three an 'ers got three children!'

Jack shook his head doubtfully.  'Ain't sure about outsiders gettin' involved,
Meg ...' he said '...but it's you ladies ceremony an' you'll do as you think
fit, same as always.  It'd do that pretty little thing a power of good no
doubt!'  He grinned.  'Can we break another tradition then?  If 'ers goin' to be
'Maid of Honour' can I come and watch?' then ducked as his grinning wife rolled
over and swung the pillow at his head.

When Megan broached the question at breakfast that morning, Kerry and Mark were
dumbstruck.  'Why me?' Kerry asked in astonishment and Megan confessed it was
after Kerry had admitted to being a genuine virgin and that the 'maiden' should
literally be intacto, the faces of both Mark and Kerry colouring up at such
intimate admissions being so casually revealed.  The two youngsters were both
very excited at such a wonderful and unexpected finale to their holiday, the
very secret they had come to discover now opening up but both were also very
nervous, wondering what Kerry would be letting herself in for as the ceremony
was so secret.

Megan grinned.  'I can't tell you any details, my love ...' she said warmly
'...'cos it is a bit like the Masons in that we need to preserve some secrecy or
the power of the ceremony is lost.  You 'ave my word though that you'll come to
no harm whatsoever.  It's just an old country ritual.  I done it myself three
times when I was a young 'un.  I was even a true virgin the first time...but
that didn't last!  It would be nice to go back to a real 'maid' for once.  There
ain't any virgins round here over the age of consent.  We don't cut your heart
and liver out in some satanic ritual ...' she added with a laugh '...so there's
nothin' to alarm you.  It's just our secret, that's all!  Anyway, think about it
and let me know later today!'

As Megan left the breakfast room, her plump bottom quivering, Mark began to
think about what he'd heard during the night, deciding against telling Kerry in
case she thought he was getting funny ideas.  If that's what the Fosters enjoyed
it was their business!  They began to discuss Megan's surprise offer and Kerry
was quite excited about it.

'I trust her, Mark ...' she said firmly '...and if Megan says I'll come to no
harm, I won't!  I want to do it.  It'll just cap your research wonderfully and I
feel so glad I can be a part of helping you to find out about the ceremony!'
Mark held her hand warmly then leaned across the table and kissed her cheek.
'Only do it if you're certain...' he said softly '...because I do appreciate you
doing this but I do worry about why they're so secretive!'

Once Kerry had agreed, Megan consulted the organising committee who were
originally somewhat concerned that an outsider was involved but more than
mollified because she was a real maiden.  When Friday arrived, both Kerry and
Mark were in a state of high excitement, Mark wondering what he'd do with
himself after Kerry had been taken up Martha's Peak in a minibus along with the
fifteen or so ladies who organised the event.  Men were strictly forbidden from
climbing the hill while the hour long ceremony which commenced on the stroke of
noon was taking place and in fact two local worthies actually patrolled the
lower slopes to prevent unwanted intruders.

Mark and Kerry both slept in late and had a light breakfast, both too nervous to
eat more.  They loitered around in the lounge bar until Megan came in at 11am to
collect Kerry en route to the village hall to meet the committee and to get her
'properly kitted out'.  Ignoring the presence of a witness, Mark suddenly gave
way to his impulses and seized his pretty girlfriend round the waist, pulled her
to him and kissed her firmly on the lips.  'Look after her, Megan ...' he said
quietly '...she means so ...' then his voice trailed off in embarrassment as
Kerry looked into his eyes and hugged him to her before departing with the ever
smiling Megan towards her date with ...what?
Mark decided to spend the time in the local library for it would occupy his mind
and stop him fretting.  There would be plenty of research material there and
added to Kerry's experiences there would be a wealth of data for his local
history thesis by the time they returned.

Kerry's first shock came at the village hall after Megan had introduced her to
the committee, all of them warm, friendly country women, the wives of the local
shopkeepers, many of whom Kerry had spoken to in the village.  She felt happy
and relaxed until she was taken to the changing room where Megan presented her
with a flowing ankle length white gown which tied with a bow at each shoulder,
Kerry staring at it in nervous embarrassment.  It was virtually diaphanous!  As
she began to peel off her dress and slip, Kerry murmured 'I wish my underwear
was a bit more substantial.  That thing's see through!' then gasped in horror as
Megan laughed out loud.  'Don't worry about your undies, my love ...' she
grinned '...they come off an' all.  We're celebrating mother nature today so the
gown is worn next the skin!'  Kerry's shock was partly mollified by the sight of
fifteen ladies of various ages and shapes, Megan included, stripping naked in
front of her eyes before donning similar gowns to her own though theirs were in
purple.  As the red faced Kerry quickly stripped off her bra and panties, Megan
stole a quick look at the girl's naked body and grinned.  That lad of 'ers would
have a treat tonight!

The mini bus had curtained windows, to Kerry's relief, and soon they were under
way, the bus driven by Megan clattering down the village street and soon on the
open road.  Kerry felt the pull of the hill as the bus began its climb up the
dirt road which led up Martha's Peak and a nervous tremor began in her stomach.
Soon the bus stopped and they began the walk, some 100 yards up to the peak.
The weather was warm but Kerry felt the soft breeze on her virtually naked body
beginning to arouse her sensitive nipples, a not unpleasant sensation.

At the top of the hill, the terrain flattened into a small grassy plateau in the
middle of which stood a small pole.  It could have been a maypole except it had
an extending wooden arm from which hung two hempen cords.  Before Kerry had time
to think, someone grabbed her hand and they all stood round the pole in a circle
as Megan began an incantation, all the women dancing around the pole for some
minutes.  Suddenly at Megan's command, the dancing ceased and Megan poured out a
glass of wine from a decanter, presenting it to the now very nervous and
perspiring Kerry.

Taking a deep breath, Kerry drank it all as instructed and the dancing began
anew.  As the dancing quickened so the wine, or whatever was in it, seemed to
rush to Kerry's head and she felt distant, light headed and tingling all over.
In fact she began to feel very sexually aroused.  She hardly noticed when Megan
stopped the dancing and led her gently towards the pole.  She submitted quietly,
her mind somewhere distant from her body as her arms were raised and her wrists
secured to the cords then the women began to dance around the pole once more,
faster and faster as Megan gently untied the bows at Kerry's shoulders allowing
the gown to fall to her ankles...

Mark sat in the library, his nerves jangling and his mind unable to concentrate
on research, desperately anxious about Kerry.  His keen mind tried to relate
events, the high birth rate, Jack Foster's comment about barren wives and 'the
ceremonies of old' .  He thought about the spanking he'd overheard in the
Foster's bedroom and wondered if that was a regular feature of married life in
these parts.  He remembered his father, who had been a visiting professor of
history in Dresden for a time, telling him about ceremonies in Lower Saxony
where childless women were whipped with their full consent.  It apparently
stirred up dozy hormones or something and often the girl became very sexually
potent soon after.

He thought of the German book in his father's study which he would furtively
browse and which showed an illustration of such an event, a naked girl tied to a
post and whipped.  The picture had a German name and he thought hard , his blood
suddenly ice cold!  Christ, colloquial German was coined from the same saxon
source as English!  'Soul of the Maiden' indeed!  That fucking idiot Newsome!
With indecent haste, Mark shot out of his seat prompting a critical cough from
the librarian, and went to the languages section.  He found a heavy German
dictionary and began thumbing.  Soul, sole..no,no....sohle from the old Saxon.
Trembling now, he confirmed the definition and his mind became clear.  Thats
what the old lady had told Newsome ...the same name as on his father's picture
...'Versohlen die Madchen'  ...'Whipping the maiden'!  He ran out of the library
despite a warning shout and headed for the pub, his fear and anger intense ...

...the women were chanting now around Kerry's naked body and Megan had handed
out small flails to each of them with which they began to whip Kerry's bare
flesh.  The leather was soft and light and as the ring of women danced the
leather fell on her breasts, on her belly, the front of her thighs, on her back,
her bottom and the back of her legs.  Kerry began to sigh softly as her skin
began to prickle and sting for she began to experience the most incredible
sensations.  Her breasts felt twice their normal size, so hot and sensitive,her
glowing pink nipples out like organ stops, her bottom pink and tender as the
slender leather strips found their mark.  Kerry was in a state close to ecstasy
as the burning warmth aroused her whole vibrant body then, dimly, she heard
Megan's soft, warm voice instructing her.

'Open those pretty legs, my love, we don't want to miss anywhere
now...especially that!' and she complied immediately feeling the soft leather
sting the lips of her vulva as she began to writhe and moan...

....'I know what they're doing to her!' Mark yelled at Jack Foster as he stood
shaking with anger in the bar of the pub 'You've got to stop them!  It's wicked
and cruel.  Kerry should have been told!' but the landlord put a gentle hand on
his arm.
'I don't like scenes in my pub ...' he said quietly '...now lets go up to your
room and discuss this!'  Despite Mark's protests he was ushered gently upstairs
to his room and gasped as he found all Kerry's clothes on his bed, the two twin
beds in his room having been pushed together to make a double.

'Sorry, I meant to 'ang em up before you both came back but you caught me by
surprise.  We've let 'er room out you see!' Jack explained.
Mark was speechless with rage 'You can't ..you've no right..what is happening
here?' he spluttered but the friendly landlord again patted his shoulder.

'Megan told you she'd come to no 'arm an' she won't ...' Jack said earnestly
'...'an I spose you 'ave worked out what's 'appenin up there 'cos you're a
bright lad.  Believe me, she's enjoying every minute of it and she'll be a
changed girl when 'er comes back.  You won't need single rooms no more, you mark
my words.  It ain't ever failed!  Anyway its too late to stop 'em they'll be
finished now and back here soon!'

At that moment, Mark heard the sound of Megan's voice and Kerry's quiet
tremulous reply as footsteps climbed the stairs.  Jack Foster discreetly exited
as Megan and Kerry walked into the bedroom,  Kerry dressed now just in the
diaphanous white ceremonial gown.  Mark sat on the bed, his mouth open,
speechless as he stared at the beautiful girl whose face was bright and alive
with excitement and desire.  Jack had been right, she had come to no harm and
now she was here in their room just ready for him!  Before he could move, Megan
grinned at him and reached for the two bows on Kerry's shoulders, untying them
swiftly.

'Can't give a boy a present without unwrapping it first' she grinned as the gown
slithered down and Kerry stood proudly in front of him as naked as the day she
was born.  Her skin from her breasts to her knees was covered in a deep pink
sheen as if she'd sunbathed naked too long.  Mark stared at Kerry's nipples,
swollen with desire, as Megan blew him a kiss and discreetly left the room.  The
young girl, her face shining, took his hand and led him gently to the bed where
she lay on her back, her legs wide apart as Mark frantically tore off his
clothes.

She pulled him into her and locked her legs around his buttocks as if she were a
practised performer and he thrust deeply into her again and again until he could
contain himself no longer, his seed coming in torrents inside her.  Too late he
realised that neither of them had any protection but Kerry kissed his lips
passionately and murmured 'Megan's opened my eyes, my love.  Just let mother
nature take its course!'