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Thursday, 2 March 2017

Adventuring

Story from Uniform Girls 13, following the misadventures of Alison from Mr Mascoll’s Playsuit.
‘All right?’ queried Rev Smithers from the other room. Desperately keen though he was to see the new shorts on Alison he had let her go through into the little parlour to put them on. That way he would get the mouth-watering picture complete, all at once. He was in a state of some excitement.
‘No!’ replied Alison in an unhappy voice. ‘No, it’s not. They’re…’
‘What’s wrong then?’ The Rev Smithers had forgotten that he had omitted to say anything about the nature of the alterations he had had done. Alison was looking askance over her shoulder in the full-length mirror. The fact was of course that Rev Smithers’ special shorts for his new Young Adventurers had no bottoms in them. His sister, Millicent, after initially refusing, had finally agreed to do as he requested, cutting and sewing hems where he had chalked.
‘Someone’s done something. You can see all of my bum,’ wailed Alison making a face.
Tristram Smithers entered, all of a quiver. ‘Let me see, Alison dear. Turn round. Let me see…’
Alison, red-faced, turned. Oh yes! What a rapturous sight! He clearly was in the wrong profession as a man of the cloth, he should have been a designer of clothes for teenage females. Alison’s bottom was indeed bare, or effectively so, for there remained at the rear not much more than the waistband and the central seam of the blue denim shorts. She had no knickers on, on Rev Smithers instruction, and so the pretty cheeks were quite bare.
A rapturous sight indeed. With the bottomless shorts Alison, pretty, tallish and blonde, had on a pink T-shirt, white knee socks and sandals. A sight almost to drive a man out of his mind. Closing quickly Tristram Smithers had clasped a bottom-cheek. Alison gave a little squeak. Not that she was unused to Rev Smithers’ hand on her bum but, well, these shorts…
He turned her and pulled her close. One hand round her waist and the other naturally at the scrumptious rear. Lightly jiggling the slimmish cheeks. ‘They’re the Young Adventurers action shorts,’ he told her.
‘Action shorts!’ queried an incredulous Alison, turning her face so that she was not smothered by Rev Smithers’ tweed jacket. He said Yes. For when they were out in the country. Camping and on adventure hikes. The shorts were designed to allow complete freedom of movement.
‘But we can’t… What will people say? If my mum sees them…’
‘Your mother is not going to see them,’ Tristram Smithers replied firmly. ‘On no account.’ There was no doubt that Mrs Twilling would not approve and would certainly want to know what was going on. As indeed would other members of the public at large if they set eyes on Tristram’ Smithers’ brainchild. ‘The shorts are naturally secret. They’re one of the secret things about the Young Adventurers.’
Alison grunted. Rev Smithers’ hand was going mad with her exposed bottom. Rev Smithers had a real thing about girls’ bottoms so perhaps it shouldn’t be too surprising that he had got these funny shorts for the Young Adventurers. Obviously they wouldn’t have been allowed in the Guides so Rev Smithers decided to form this new outfit. It was to be just her and Cynthia and Jane at first but the other two hadn’t got their shorts yet. They were in for a surprise.
‘Another thing of course about the shorts,’ said Rev Smithers who was getting quite excited, ‘is that they will be very good for disciplining. Naturally we’ll have to have discipline, that’s what makes things work. And with these shorts I shall be able to discipline you girls straight away.’
By discipline Rev Smithers meant smacking bottoms, or using his strap across their bums. He could hit you pretty hard with his hand when he had you over his lap. His strap of course was a whole lot worse.
‘Let’s try it,’ said the Rev Smithers, perhaps inevitably. ‘A spot of disciplining.’
No!’ piped Alison, ‘I’ve not done anything.’
Rev Smithers said that actually saying No could be construed as a breach of discipline but he wasn’t going to count it. But he would give her a spanking and count it against the next time she needed one. Alison wasn’t at all happy with that either but it was clear Rev Smithers was pretty excited, what with the new shorts and everything. She could feel he was excited all right, pressed tight up against him as she was. And if Rev Smithers didn’t have a spanking… he might easily think of something else.
So very shortly Alison was over Tristram Smithers’ lap, her face down close to the carpet and her bottom in the bottomless shorts high up and offering a splendid target. The practised hand began splatting down. ‘Ouch!’s and ‘Ooof!’s. It was not Tristram Smithers’ policy to go easy on a girl’s bum once he had it over his lap. Alison writhed and jerked in truly heart-pounding fashion. Writhing and jerking, it must be said, directly over Tristram Smithers’ throbbing member.
Yes the Young Adventurers shorts were given a very satisfactory introduction. Very soon mixed in with Rev Smithers’ grunts of effort there were gasps of supreme pleasure. After that he decided to take Alison’s shorts off and give her another going over without them, just to compare the two.
Yes all in all a most satisfactory introduction.
----//----
The Young Adventurers had their first adventure camp the next weekend. It was the school holidays so they could set out on the Friday morning, the three of them with Rev Smithers in his ancient car. They all had their action shorts now and not only that, there were special swimsuits as well. One-piece stretch suits which Tristram Smithers had dealt with in the same way as the shorts — or rather persuaded Millicent to deal with — that is the bottoms had been cut out.
They set off, all highly excited, for their secret destination. Naturally they didn’t have the Young Adventurers shorts or swimsuits on when they left home, but skirts and knickers. As it would turn out this first expedition was going to be even more momentous and exciting than any of them anticipated.
Tristram Smithers had got permission for camping from a gentleman he vaguely knew, a friend of a friend, who had quite a bit of land in Somerset. Major Folkestone his name was and they went in to briefly meet him when they arrived after a three hour drive. Major Folkestone was an older man with a reddish face and white hair and rather stary blue eyes. The stary blue eyes had stared in particular at the three pretty girls as he said they were welcome to camp wherever they liked. Jane said afterwards, ‘I had a funny feeling about him when he looked at us like that.’ But of course it was easy to say that afterwards.
They went off a good distance from Major Folkestone’s house, along a trail through the woods to what seemed like a nice secluded corner. Then they put up their tents; two tents, one for two girls and one for Rev Smithers and the other one. They also right away on Rev Smithers’ instruction put on their Young Adventurers action shorts. Jane also said afterwards, ‘I didn’t like putting the shorts on. I could feel eyes watching me from the bushes.’ But that again was afterwards and they had all felt a little bit like that. And in any case at that point Major Folkestone hadn’t been watching, it had been later.
It was later in the afternoon. After they’d been for a hike through the woods and come back and built the table. From lengths of wood tied together with rope. A rustic table with a flat board on top that they’d brought with them. The table was to be used for meals etc but also Rev Smithers could see another use for it. Discipline.
For Rev Smithers’ thoughts, as he trekked through the woods with the girls in their action shorts, had been turning more and more to the subject of discipline. With three jiggling bare bottoms for his eyes to feast on, three perfect young pairs of bottom-cheeks, this was not really surprising.
‘We all need a little warming up before we go any further,’ he pronounced. ‘To keep us alert and, er, disciplined.’
By ‘we’ and ‘us’ Tristram Smithers naturally meant the three girls and the thought had suddenly come that their rustic table could add a new dimension in that direction.
‘Up on the table, Alison,’ he said when they had finished constructing it. (It was almost always Alison first.) ‘Lie on your back and lift your legs up. Hold the backs of your knees.’
At first Alison said she wasn’t going to, it would be just too awful in that position, but Rev Smithers barked sharply, ‘Discipline Alison! The Young Adventurers must have discipline.’
After a good deal of whining and protesting she finally agreed — but only if the other two weren’t watching. Rev Smithers agreed they could go and wait in the tent. Alison reluctantly got up on her back and lifted her legs in the air. It was a marvellous position to have a girl in, as Tristram Smithers had pictured it, Alison’s mouth-watering bottom up-ended and bare apart from the thin denim seam splitting the taut-stretched cheeks. With mounting excitement he began to strap her. At this point of course, as it turned out, Major Folkestone was watching.
And he was watching as Rev Smithers then in turn strapped the other two girls, Cynthia for a little variety being made to lie on the table on her front with her head and shoulders hanging down near the ground. Yes it was wildly exciting and Rev Smithers strapped them all with great gusto causing the woods to echo with girlish yelps and squeals.
It was when he had just about finished with Jane that Major Folkestone stepped out from where he had been watching. Jane was still on the table, on her back like Alison, her legs held high, her bottom bright red. Tristram Smithers’ thoughts, inflamed by his heady pleasures, had run on to other pleasures. Alison who was to be in his tent tonight would definitely need another Sex Education lesson. Then there in front of him was the mind-boggling form of Major Folkestone.
Consternation? Shock? Terror even? There seemed to be no word strong enough to describe the effect of Major Folkestone’s appearance. The girls let out yelps of fright. It was as if a ghost had appeared. But Major Folkestone was no ghost.
He drew Rev Smithers aside. The three girls stood in shock as the two men conversed in lowered tones. They knew of course that the Young Adventurers had to be kept secret. Or at least the action shorts did and so no doubt must those strappings and the manner in which Rev Smithers had delivered them. If such matters got into the papers, say…

But as it turned out Major Folkestone was not proposing exposure. Or at least only as a last resort. Only if… well, if there was no co-operation.
Co-operation? Yes. Major Folkestone seemed friendly. A broad smile as he turned to the girls after the quiet little chat with Rev Smithers. He would like them to take tea with him. One at a time, it seemed. Was that all? Well…
Jane, he decided, would be first. Today. Alison and Cynthia tomorrow. Jane gave Rev Smithers a darting glance. Should she change out of her action shorts? Major Folkestone smiled again. Oh no. Not at all. Smiling he took Jane off. To have tea.
Tea? Well tea and the rest. Jane reappeared more than an hour later. Not a very happy look on her face. And when the other two girls greeted her she began blinking. Tears. When she turned you could see why. Where earlier there had been a rosy glow on her bottom from Rev Smithers’ strap there were now dark red and purple stripes. Criss-crossing angrily over those taut slim cheeks.
Stripes from a vicious caning. Alison and Cynthia who had to go tomorrow gasped with horror. Tristram Smithers bit his lip.
The story continues in The Swimming Lesson

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