Story from Blushes 74
One doesn’t see that sort of thing nowadays of course. Nowadays there are too many so-called do-gooders about eager to think the worst. Too many busybodies interested in minding other people’s business and intent on discovering shock-horror scandals whether or not they exist. But before the war, back in the thirties, they were not uncommon. Even then of course they were not shouted from the rooftops; but if one knew where to look — in the advertisement pages of certain magazines (quite proper magazines but discreet ones) — then one would find these modest little announcements tucked quietly away.
Private academy for young ladies.
Something like that. The wording could vary of course. It might be — Private tuition offered to young ladies. Or — Gentleman offers residential tuition to young lady.
Private academies for young ladies. Residential or day attendance. The discreetly worded advertisements were aimed at middle-class girls (or more accurately perhaps at their mothers) because naturally working-class ones would be otherwise employed once they had left school — in domestic service, serving in shops, etc. Middle-class parents would never wish to see their own daughters engaged in such menial activities. So that left? Yes. These very helpful gentlemen placing their ads.
Yes, gentlemen. Or purporting to be so. And this was a very major attraction. A stay in an upper-class household! Consorting with the gentry! What an opportunity! What an opportunity also for a girl’s mother to casually mention in conversation — ‘Oh yes. Georgina had a stay at Blankstone Court down in Wiltshire. Sir Sidney Somebody’s place you know. Very country.’
It had an almost unbeatable cachet value. So there was the name dropping, plus also the hope that some of the upper-class veneer would rub off on Georgina (or Jane or Pamela).
So those modest little ads were not placed in vain. They had a quite eager readership. There was no shortage of customers. And what exactly were the customers getting — the hopeful young ladies (and their hopeful mothers)? Yes what did they get?
Well, some sort of introduction to the ways of the upper class. Country life as it was lived in Wiltshire, say, or it might be in someone’s town residence. And more specifically? A smattering of general education? Yes probably — especially if one interpreted ‘education’ in its wider sense. The ways of the world. The ways of English gentlemen.
What must be remembered of course is that we are here considering the thirties. England in the 1930s was not the England of today. And particularly not in one matter very relevant to the subject of those little educational ventures. Physical chastisement.
Today the very mention of this can cause expressions of horror. It is beyond the pale; it is abuse (that trendy word). But in those days physical chastisement was quite acceptable. It was indeed desirable that a girl get a suitable taste. The cane. A nice little strap. Hand spanking. Yes the birch too. Oh yes. Any of these. Disciplining of girls employing any of these aids was quite in order. And Georgina or whoever going to stay with Sir Sidney would be well aware that one of these options was a distinct possibility. It was right and proper. It was good for her. Any of these alternatives. Or quite possibly all of them. Applied to her tender young person.
Oh yes, there would be no point complaining to mother. No point in even mentioning it in her letters home. Mother would not wish to know.
Neither would mother probably wish to know about anything else. A proper middle-class mother probably would not know that among upper-class gentlemen themselves, or some of them at least — those appreciative of a certain coarse humour and no doubt there were plenty of this sort — these little enterprises were known as ‘stables’. As for instance, ‘So-and-so is setting up a little stable.’
Why ‘stable’? Because a stable is where a gentleman may keep a few nice young mares. Young fillies. For the pleasure of riding. A nice pleasurable ride on a brisk young mare. A young filly, or several of them, to be ridden by himself and perhaps also by favoured friends. The sprightly young filly will have to be disciplined of course. Taught to take the strap and the cane. And then when she is disciplined she can be ridden; she will afford an exquisite ride. Yes, those are the pleasures of a private stable.
But naturally a proper middle-class mother would not be acquainted with such upper-class male humour. She would certainly not wish to hear it. Gentlemen were... well, gentlemen. Weren’t they?
Georgina Tomkins is 17 and her mother has found her a place with a gentleman. To broaden Georgina’s education Isn’t it exciting!
Mr Faltnoy has a country place down in Wiltshire and Georgina will stay initially for a month. The period can be extended if Mr Faltnoy wishes and advises that a further stay will be beneficial. If Georgina is a willing pupil, a good and keen learner, presumably. But that of course is for the future. There is certainly the one month, that has been firmly arranged. Isn’t it exciting! And naturally a little daunting.
Yes, a little scary. To be going off on her own to stay with a stranger, a strange man, in his big and daunting house. But Georgina has met Mr Faltnoy, he is not a completely unknown figure. She went to meet him, accompanied by her mother, at that house in London. For interview, because naturally Mr Faltnoy does not want an entirely unsuitable girl staying for a month in his house. And Mr Faltnoy, Georgina was very relieved to find, did not seem desperately frightening. A very tall gentleman with a pleasant and friendly manner, not particularly old. With a slightly daunting upper-class drawl of course but otherwise... no, not frightening.
Mr Faltnoy for his part had been pleased enough with what he was getting. And why not? Georgina was a most attractive girl — a pretty brunette with a full mouth and big lustrous eyes; quite tall and with a well-developed, shapely figure. Georgina had been wearing a new summer frock, full-skirted but tight and fitting over her full, firm boobs, with a pair of smart high heels and looking quite grown-up, sophisticated almost. Yes, Richard Faltnoy had certainly been impressed. A month of this lovely young girl. A month of instructing her...
He had seen the two of them together and then, briefly, Georgina alone in a small anteroom. One needed to see what a girl was like without the supporting presence of her mother. In the little room Mr Faltnoy asked Georgina if she had a boyfriend. Flushing slightly she had shaken her head. Mr Faltnoy had smiled... and then slid his hand over Georgina’s full boobs. Briefly giving them an intimate fondle.
It had taken her breath away but Georgina had managed to retain her poise. Standing still and straight, though of course trembling, and managing to keep a properly submissive smile on her face.
‘Good girl,’ Mr Faltnoy had drawled approvingly. And then had moved round and correspondingly given Georgina’s bottom a brief feel through the thin cotton of her new frock. ‘Yes, I’ll be looking forward awfully to seeing you, Georgina.’
Audrey Tomkins didn’t ask for any details of Georgina’s few minutes in the little anteroom with Mr Faltnoy, and Georgina didn’t afterwards offer any. Not as regards what Mr Faltnoy had done with his hands at least. It was enough for both of them that he seemed entirely satisfied with young Miss Tomkins. Audrey took her daughter off for tea at an expensive restaurant. The interview had been an ordeal, for mother as much as for daughter, but Georgina had clearly done very well.
‘You did marvellously!’ Audrey exulted over the tea and cakes. ‘Not that I’m surprised. You’re looking marvellous for one thing, darling.’
Yes there was cause for mutual congratulations. Mr Faltnoy might not be Lord Faltnoy or Sir Richard but he was undoubtedly a bona fide member of the landed gentry. Of Faltnoy Court and its spacious acres. How marvellous for dear Georgina; what an experience. It was just what a girl needed to bring her out, give her that poise. And when in a few years she was thinking about marriage, well of course an eligible young man’s parents would be so impressed.
Georgina herself naturally thought about Mr Faltnoy’s hand afterwards. Lying in bed she felt the hand again and shivered. Running her own hands nervously over her trembling body. Georgina certainly didn’t have a boyfriend, she hardly knew any boys. Or men for that matter, apart from her father of course. But she knew about men, more or less, and the other thing. Sex. That big, looming scary thing. Georgina knew what happened, more or less, to make a baby. The man’s thing went inside the mother. It got very big and he put it up inside the mother and shot his stuff into her and that made the baby. Presumably when Georgina herself got married and they wanted a baby that was what they would do. And her mother and father must have done it when they wanted her and her younger sister. Though of course it was difficult to imagine it.
But there was more to it than that. Some men it seemed wanted to do it all the time. Not only to make babies, they simply, with some awful lust driving them on, wanted to do it. And some women — and girls — would let them. Common girls of course wearing lots of lipstick and dresses too tight to their bottoms. Yes those sort of common girls would do it; for money or simply because they were depraved themselves. And this also meant that other girls, nice respectable girls, could be at risk. From these lust-driven men somehow mistaking them for the common girls who were prepared to do it. Yes, so a girl had to be extremely careful of strange men. Georgina’s mother had always stressed that to her.
The thought was alarming alright. A strange man with lust in his eyes, and possibly drooling at the mouth, grabbing her. Forcing her down and pulling off her knickers, and then his horrendous thing... thrusting inside her. Thrusting inside and then... discharging. To make some horrid, common baby inside her.
Yes that was sex. It was a dreadful, frightening thing. And Mr Faltnoy’s and... well men’s hands in general were connected with sex. Men’s hands fondling those parts of you. Men imagined it would get a girl excited, make her want sex. Georgina’s mother had told her that. But Mr Faltnoy wasn’t one of those awful common men, he was a gentleman.
Georgina shivered again. Remembering the hand. It had got her excited. A hot and scary excitement. As the thought of it now did. Her hand slid down. She knew what she wanted to do. With her own hand, her fingers. An awful, forbidden thing. Her hand down there, at her entrance. Her entrance where, when she was married, her husband would push in his thing to make a baby.
Georgina could feel she was wet. Her hand, in spite of it being a thing that no nice girl would ever think of doing, had slid down and pulled her nightdress up. And she was all wet and her fingers with a will of their own were... doing it. Her thighs were parted and her fingers were in there. She couldn’t help it as her head filled with awful thoughts. Forbidden thoughts. Sickening thoughts. Of sex of course. Of sex and Mr Faltnoy. Mr Faltnoy had his enormous thing out and was making her take her knickers off.
Georgina groaned. Writhing her hips. With her fingers frenziedly doing the awful thing. It was almost as if she was one of those dreadful common girls who wanted to do it. That forbidden word which she nonetheless knew. Fuck. Girls who wanted to fuck. Common girls who would fuck anyone. Oh God! In Georgina’s head Mr Faltnoy was fucking her. And she was...
‘Oooooohh! Ah! Ahah! Oooooohhh! Ooooohhhh!!!
‘Here we are then.’
Yes they are here. Faltnoy Court. Georgina awkwardly getting out of Mr Faltnoy’s motorcar, his hand helping her. To stand unsteadily on the gravel forecourt. She is here. The time-smoothed stones of the big house rising in front of her, set square in its rolling green acres. Her head is spinning a little. It has been a head-spinning day. The train journey into scary, bustling London and then another train down into Wiltshire. Mr Faltnoy himself meeting her at the station. A drive through country roads in his splendid black motorcar. And now finally...
‘A tiring journey I expect, eh?’
Mr Faltnoy has hardly spoken in the car. An occasional sideways smile at her but otherwise concentrating on his driving. Georgina says, ‘Yes. Yes sir.’ As his arm slid round her waist.
She shivers. It is two weeks since that interview. That time in the little room when Mr Faltnoy’s hands went intimately over her. And then afterwards that night in bed, that utterly shameful business — her hand in her wetness. Frenziedly working at her hot flesh. It was all the excitement of course; of the interview, of getting this stay with Mr Faltnoy.
Georgina hasn’t done it since. No. Though she had a strong urge to last night, with the scary excitement of today’s journey and actually coming here. But Georgina was able to resist it. That was something and hopefully she can forget about that other awful time. But now Mr Faltnoy’s hand is on her again and Georgina’s legs feel a little bit as if they’re made of jelly.
Mr Faltnoy is talking about her dress. It is the same dress that Georgina wore to the interview, her new one. She had a light coat on for the train journey but her coat is now on the back seat of Mr Faltnoy’s car. Mr Faltnoy is saying it is a pretty dress. For a very pretty girl. And as he says this... his hand has slid down. So that it is now cupping her bottom again. His hand through the thin cotton dress on Georgina’s ripe rump. With under the dress just an equally thin slip and of course her drawers. A new pair of slinky ivory-coloured silk knickers.
‘Have you had it smacked? Or caned perhaps?’ Mr Faltnoy’s drawling voice is quiet, matter-of-fact. The hand squeezes. ‘This I mean. This gorgeous rear. Eh?’
Georgina doesn’t answer. She can’t answer, can’t make any words come out. Her head is in a real spin and her legs are probably going to collapse. She weakly shakes her head.
‘It’s necessary of course,’ Mr Faltnoy says. ‘Essential if a girl is to be properly trained. But right now, let’s get you into a nice hot bath, eh? After that exhausting journey. Then we will get you dressed in your uniform and... we can make a start. Eh?’
‘Lovely! Don’t you look lovely?’
Georgina is in Mr Faltnoy’s uniform. Standing rather self-consciously in his drawing room. She has had her hot bath and has put on the uniform that Mrs Elkins, Mr Faltnoy’s housekeeper, brought in to her. Georgina had feared that Mr Faltnoy himself would come into the bathroom when she was there nude in the bath, with no lock on the door, but he hadn’t and perhaps it was silly to think that. A gentleman wouldn’t do that. Even if there wasn’t a lock on the door.
The uniform is very like a school uniform. A white blouse with a green-and-blue striped tie and over that a grey long-sleeved jersey, plus a grey knee-length skirt. With white ankle socks and shiny black strapped shoes. The jersey has a little badge, a red lion, which is part of Mr Faltnoy’s coat of arms. And under the skirt are fitting black cotton knickers, not Georgina’s slinky silk ones. She has no other underwear on. The tight black knickers were the only items of underwear in the pile of clothes brought in by Mrs Elkins, who took all of Georgina’s own things when she went out.
‘Yes you look really delightful in the uniform. Well, I suppose we can begin. Mrs Elkins gave you something to eat, Georgina?’
Georgina says ‘Yes. Yes thank you sir.’ In the bathroom Mrs Elkins told her she was to come to the kitchen afterwards and there Georgina, glowing from her hot bath, was given some tea. In addition to the housekeeper who is pleasant-faced and fiftyish Georgina met the maid, Susan, blonde and pretty and perhaps a little older than herself. Plus a man-servant, Mr Jankins, who might be Mr Faltnoy’s age. They all seemed friendly enough.
Mr Jankins, eyeing her up, said perhaps quizzically that he supposed Georgina had come to be taught a few things that a girl needed to know. Georgina had flushed and said yes.
Mr Jankins gave her a grin. Well, girls need to know these things, don’t they Susan?’ Susan had made a face but not answered and Georgina had wondered for the moment — because Susan was just the maid and wasn’t being taught things, was she? Mrs Elkins said that another girl, Pamela, who had been staying had left a week ago. It seemed Mr Faltnoy had just one girl at a time staying.
Now in the drawing room the testing was evidently about to begin and Georgina has that nervous feeling again. For one thing wondering what this first lesson will be — and also at the thought that in all probability Mr Faltnoy is going to put his hands on her again. Georgina tries to control her trembling knees.
Mr Faltnoy has gone over to a sideboard and comes back with a large book. He places it on a wooden stand. The stand is a little above waist height so that the book is at a convenient height for reading from a standing position. That is what Georgina has to do. It is a book of Shakespeare and Georgina is to read out aloud to Mr Faltnoy. From Hamlet.
‘Nice and clear. Nice and confident, Georgina dear.’
Well it doesn’t come out too confidently because Georgina is nervous. She has read aloud at school of course but somehow that was different. Georgina is conscious of her hesitant voice and gets even more nervous.
Mr Faltnoy stops her. Red-faced Georgina stammers, ‘I’m sorry. I...I’m not normally nervous like this. Really...’
Mr Faltnoy smiles and says it’s alright, he understands. But nonetheless Georgina must have a lesson. To hopefully teach her to concentrate and not be nervous. He is going to have to cane her.
That dreadful word! Which Mr Faltnoy mentioned at the outset when they arrived in a car — and which was always a possibility on a stay like this. Caning is an accepted part of discipline, Mr Faltnoy is free to employ a cane. But that didn’t make it any easier, the thought of it any less horrendous. Georgina has never been caned. A master at school threatened to cane her once for slack play on the hockey team but in the end didn’t. Maybe it will be the same now, Mr Faltnoy is only threatening. To scare her.
He is scaring her alright. Telling her to go and fetch the cane which Georgina now can see standing in the corner near the cupboard. She picks it up as if it was red hot. It will be red hot, shortly. When she gets it. He is going to do it. Oh...
Georgina feels a sudden need to visit the toilet. A sudden urgent need to pee.
Mr Faltnoy tells her to hold out her hand. He is going to give her two across the palm of her hand. And then... two more across her bottom. Her bare bottom.
‘Keep still, young lady. It will hurt. It’s got to of course. Otherwise you won’t learn, will you?’
Yes Mr Faltnoy is going to do it. Georgina is going to wet herself. Wet her knickers. She can’t hold her hand out for that cane. Hold it out firm and still... while Mr Faltnoy whips the cane down.
‘Hold it out Georgina. Or I’ll have to bring Jankins in to hold you. Jankins will take down your knickers and hold you down and I’ll give you all of them on your bare bottom. Give you a full dozen on your bottom if you can’t act sensibly.’
Georgina holds her hand out.
The cane arcs up...
The pain is unbelievable. As if her hand has been cut in two. Georgina doubles up, clasping the stricken palm to her. Mr Faltnoy sharply tells her to straighten up. And present her hand again. She mustn’t behave like a silly baby.
The second one is even worse; laid virtually on top of the first stroke. Georgina can’t help doubling up again, the hot tears starting in her eyes. Mr Faltnoy tells her to take her knickers down now. And lift up her skirt. It is time for the cane across her bare bottom. And as she’s made such a fuss... she is going to get three, not two.
Oh God. This is even worse if that is possible. Yes it is possible. Without any doubt. It is twice as bad. The awful humiliation of it. Having to take her knickers down and lift her skirt up round her waist. Exposing her ripe but extremely shapely bottom. Not to mention what there is at the front of course — Georgina’s luxurious patch of black curling hair. And then bend over. Leaning over the stand and pushing her bare bottom out. For that dreadful, dreadful cane.
Oh God! The unspeakable humiliation. And of course the dreadful pain. The fearsome cut of the cane into the soft flesh of her bottom. Oh please God.
‘Well you’ve had an introduction, Georgina. One introduction at least. The cane I mean. And it wasn’t so bad, eh?’
It is later and the drapes in the drawing room are fully drawn now. Georgina has had another hot bath after her caning, to relax her Mr Faltnoy said. It is perhaps an hour since the caning but Georgina can still feel the cane. The dreadful cuts across her hand and then to her bare bottom. It was like a nightmare and she can still feel the pain.
She makes some sort of reply to Mr Faltnoy. There is no real reply to what he has said. They are sitting together on the settee with in front of them on the low table the drinks Mrs Elkins has brought in. A mug of hot cocoa for Georgina and for Mr Faltnoy a glass of perhaps whisky. Georgina is dressed for bed — that is, she has on her flowered dressing gown with underneath just her nightdress, and Mr Faltnoy is similarly clothed — a black silk dressing gown below which Georgina can see the legs of his striped pyjamas, his feet in leather slippers.
It is a little frightening — to be here dressed (or undressed) like this with Mr Faltnoy in a like state. Alone with Mr Faltnoy in their nightwear. Although Mr Faltnoy has anyway already had a full view of Georgina’s bare bottom. Not to mention her other business. He has had his hand on her bare bottom as well — stroking it appreciatively like a connoisseur of girls’ bare bottoms... before applying the cane.
‘Yes, one introduction Georgina dear. But there are others too, are there not? If a girl had not had a boyfriend to introduce her to those aspects already. Which I take it is the case. And no gentlemen either, Georgina? No little visits to gentlemen. I trust not. I like to think I am the first with a girl. Eh?’
Georgina is not sure what Mr Faltnoy is talking about. But her face has gone a deep pink shade. She has no definite idea but she can guess — he is talking about sex. About getting babies. Or maybe not actually getting babies but the business that people do anyway when they are not wanting to get a baby. What common girls do; what coarse men with hot-eyed looks will do to a girl if they get a chance. But Mr Faltnoy... There is also inevitably the memory of those awful thoughts Georgina had. Those awful depraved images. Mr Faltnoy.
‘Do you know what I’m talking about, Georgina dear?’ Mr Faltnoy has taken a sip of his drink and puts it down. Georgina vigorously shakes her head.
Mr Faltnoy smiles. You’re a lovely girl, Georgina. Quite an exciting girl for a gentleman. Look... Look how you’re exciting me.’
Georgina looks. She doesn’t want to look. Mr Faltnoy’s hands are pulling open his dressing gown. No she doesn’t want to look — she can’t look. It is there. Thrusting unbelievably up out of the opening of his pyjamas. Georgina’s heart momentarily stops. She is going to faint. It is an impossible size. An impossible sight. She has never seen one before of course. Never seen a man’s thing. Only had a vague idea, and her idea was not like this. It is so impossibly big. The smooth head of it bright red. Menacingly rampant. No she can’t look... but Mr Faltnoy is making her. And he is...
... Making her touch it. Taking her hand... to hold it. She can’t! And then, his voice low but quite distinct, Mr Faltnoy is telling her something else. That she has to do. She has got to suck it. The impossible words dancing in her head. She has got to suck it.