In the erotic novel Augustus and Lady Maude, our narrator has developed an obsession for Julie, and becomes insanely jealous when he spies her having hot lesbian sex with another girl. His thoughts soon turn to punishment:
To see Sian and Julie toiling at one another was the keenest punishment of desire which I could ever have imagined.
They lay head to tail on the bed, closely inspecting and fondling the spread of each other’s thighs and buttocks. The most intense spasms of their mutual desire seemed to be past. Now they were content to stroke and fondle more gently. Despite the wedding-ring on her finger, Sian has trim young thighs and firmly agile bottom-cheeks.
Julie licked her fingers and began to draw wet patterns on the white skin of Sian’s trim young buttocks and down her thighs. Now the redhead returned the service to the slim young blonde. They wetted and drooled over each other in the lewdest possible manner until their unwholesome conduct excited stronger passions and they began to pry and insert their fingers, each watching what she was doing to the other at a few inches distance in order to inflame her own lewdness.
I cannot envisage what means may be used to drive these two girls apart and to speed Julie into my arms. Presently I knew that it would be impressible for me to endure another moment in the rooms I had hired to keep my observation upon the pair. Taking up my hat, I went down the stairs and shut the door. Upon my arrival home, I threw myself down in a chair and brooded upon my tragedy.
Why it was, I cannot say, yet I thought suddenly of those reformatory institutions where young women and girls are taught discipline by methods familiar to us all. I had once browsed through some pages of the House of Correction memoirs and was tolerably well-informed as to the scenes enacted in such places. In my mind I saw a girl of twenty with a firm and round young figure. She was pale-skinned and her mop of red hair fell this way and that. It was Sian. She was hoisted astride the padded vaulting-horse and stretched forward so that she lay along it while she straddled. They strapped her down and made her secure. A brute of a fellow, the very one for such a task, took up the cord whip. He lashed the bare cheeks of Sian’s bottom until they were a mass of weals. Thus I imagined, and thus I wished the future should be for our lewd young redhead. And then a curious thing happened. Without exercising the least direction over my imagination, I found that the girl whom I pictured over the flogging-horse, screaming and writhing under the whip, was not Sian any longer. It was Julie whom my subconscious mind now presented on the stage of my imagination…