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Monday, 6 March 2017

The Swimming Lesson

Story from Blushes Uniform Girls 13, following the misadventures of Alison from Mr Mascoll’s Playsuit and Adventuring.
That business on their first camp with Major Folkestone was truly awful, that man was a real sadist. None of the three girls had ever been caned before and the ferocious, biting pain was something else, your bottom feeling like it was actually on fire and your brain seeming to want to explode out of your head.
Jane who’d got it first, on that Friday evening, was really in a state. ‘I can’t sit down,’ she wailed. But as it was almost 8 o’clock by the time she got back from Major Folkestone’s, Rev Smithers said that anyway they might as well turn in and have an early night. The fact was that Tristram Smithers, although expressing sympathy for Jane and the state of her bottom, was also very much aroused by it. For this reason he had quickly decided to switch plans and have Jane in his tent that night rather than Alison. ‘So I can see she’s all right,’ as he explained.
Rev Smithers had brought some cold cream with him and also of course he had his Vaseline. The cold cream did help but after he’d put that on Jane would much rather Rev Smithers had left it alone. However he could not bring himself to do this, the sight of those criss-crossing purpling stripes was so stimulating that his hands simply could not keep away. ‘Massaging’ was what he said he was doing.
Jane by this time had taken off her action shorts and also the rest of her things and put on her pyjama top but not the pyjama trousers and on Rev Smithers advice was lying on top of her sleeping bag on her front. Jane could well have done without the massaging which was painful and brought forth various yelps and squeals. The massaging went on for quite a while and then Rev Smithers, even more aroused by now, decided that it would be a good idea if Jane had a Sex Education lesson.
Jane also didn’t feel much like a Sex Education lesson but there wasn’t much she could do about that either. Like the other two, Jane was in general prepared to accept that Sex Education lessons were a very good thing at that age, preparing you for life and all that, but sometimes you felt more like having one than at others.
The next day of course the other two, Cynthia and Alison, had to go over to Major Folkestone’s. Cynthia in the morning and Alison in the afternoon, for refreshments supposedly but in reality it was to get a caning just like Jane. Both pleaded desperately with Rev Smithers, saying why didn’t they just leave and go and find another campsite somewhere else? But Rev Smithers said that wasn’t on because if Major Folkestone didn’t get proper satisfaction from each of them he might go to the papers or something and then they’d all be in big trouble. By ‘proper satisfaction’ Rev Smithers meant of course giving them each one of those awful canings.
So there was nothing for it. They went. And each in turn came back in tears and with her bottom in very much the same state as Jane’s had been. (Jane’s stripes were at last beginning to fade a bit by this time.)
So that was their first Young Adventurers camp — a bit more than they had bargained for, or indeed what Tristram Smithers had bargained for. He told Cynthia and Alison, whose bottoms were still showing cane marks on Sunday afternoon when it was time to go home, to be sure and not let their mothers see. As for those new Young Adventurers swimsuits, they only put them on in the tents. Rev Smithers had been planning for the girls to go for a swim in them in the nearby stream but he said that Major Folkestone might possibly be lurking about in the bushes watching and if he saw he might want them to go to his house again for more refreshments. Naturally the girls were horror-struck at the thought of that.
Therefore the Young Adventurers swimsuits, with their bottomless bottoms remained untested as far as actual swimming was concerned. Tristram Smithers pondered this. He was keen for the girls to get in some swimming practice in the bottomless swimsuits. He also pondered the suits themselves. They were first rate, the brainchild no doubt of a great inventive mind. But… could they possibly be improved?
Alison. As always it was Alison first. Sweet, sweet-fleshed Alison, always his favourite. The other two were favourites as well but Alison was Number One. So Alison it was who was instructed to come round to Rev Smithers’ place three days after the camping trip, right after lunch. What was up, so to speak? Rev Smithers was clearly excited, more so than usual. And Alison was being told to go into the little parlour to put that swimsuit on. It was just like when he produced the action shorts for the first time — but Alison had put the swimsuit on before. She knew what it was like, it had virtually no bottom, at the back it went between the cheeks of your bottom rather than covering them. Well, that was Rev Smithers. But…
Looking at the suit which he had handed her, Alison suddenly noticed something. Something small and hard. And then another something. She held the suit up, examining it. Poppers. For some reason they were sewn onto the shoulder straps, both at front and back. And then… And then she saw that between the legs of the suit, the crotch, there were poppers too. And here the swimsuit could be opened, it was just the poppers holding it together. That was different from at the shoulders where they were only half poppers.
Alison felt a little tingle. The swimsuit would now open between her legs. Why was that? ‘Are you ready?’ called out Rev Smithers from the other room.
‘N… No…’ Alison stepped into the suit, pulling it up over her slim nude form, pulling the narrow shoulder straps up over her shoulders. At the back the stretch material automatically slid in between the bare cheeks of her bottom. That felt funny and not very nice, just like the action shorts, being all exposed like that. But mostly it was those funny poppers she was thinking about. Why…?
Rev Smithers was suddenly in the room, eyes gleaming. ‘What d’you think, Alison?’
Alison didn’t know what she thought. He was grabbing her, pulling her close, his hand at her bare bottom. Then in front. She squeaked as the hand went in between her slim thighs. And then… Alison squeaked again, more urgently.
‘You see,’ Tristram Smithers’ voice husky with excitement. ‘Quite an idea, eh?’
His fingers had undone the two poppers between Alison’s legs. The two parts of the tight suit had sprung apart so that there was nothing there but Rev Smithers’ hand. ‘Ooohhh!’
‘Quick release,’ breathed Rev Smithers, his fingers busy. ‘Another little idea I had.’
Some time later Alison managed to get away from him and do the poppers up again. Then, more than a little hot and bothered, she was preceding him out along the corridor and upstairs. To the bathroom. Rev Smithers was going to give her a swimming lesson. In the bathroom? She was still having trouble thinking straight what with the suit with the poppers and also what Rev Smithers had been doing with the poppers undone. He had begun filling the bath with water. Alison shook her head. ‘I can’t swim in there.’
Rev Smithers turned, smiling. Pulled her close again, grabbing once more at her bare bottom. ‘No, you’re not going to swim in the bath, Alison dear, it’s just to get you wet first. I’m going to have you on the stools for your lesson.’
There were two high stools by the side that she hadn’t taken any notice of. Could you have swimming lessons on stools? But then Alison was being bundled into the bath, into the warm water. Rev Smithers pushing her down on her back. She squealed as his hands slid over her, like slippery wet sea creatures. Another sharper squeal as one sea creature went between her legs and unpopped the pops. The sea creature had stiffly probing parts. ‘Ooohhh!’
Rev Smithers, bending over, sleeves rolled up, was grinning. ‘Just checking. You know.’
And then, bath water cascading off her, Alison was being hauled out. She grabbed for the opened crotch of her suit, desperate to pop it together again. What had Rev Smithers said? Up on…?
The two stools were close together, almost touching. Alison was being helped forward, and up. On her front across the two stools, head and arms and legs free. ‘Breast-stroke.’ Rev Smithers’ voice with that edge of hot excitement again. ‘Let’s see the breast-stroke first.’
Alison did it, a breast-stroking action. Arms and legs apart. It was the legs that counted. Her thighs. Rev Smithers’ hand. ‘OK, I’ve got you.’ A gasped girlish squeal. The hand was between her legs. Holding.
‘Keep swimming. Let me see your action.’
She squealed again. The poppers were once more open, the two parts of the suit split apart, the front part to dangle down against the stool. Another, more frantic squeal. Rev Smithers’ hand was still there. How could you possibly do a proper swimming action when his hand…
After what seemed like a very long time Alison was being helped down. Automatically she grabbed for the two opened parts of her suit again, but… the rear half, the bit that went between the cheeks of her bottom, seemed to have disappeared. What the…? She turned, twisting. And then in the mirror she saw. What that other popper up on the shoulder strap was for. The back of her suit was fastened up high, clear of her bottom and waist.
As Alison stood bemused Rev Smithers came close. To take hold of the loose front part of her suit. That was pulled high too, to be fastened with that front popper. She was not quite bare below. Alison’s mind was still taking all this in as Rev Smithers led her forward again. To the stool. Just the one stool now, the other had been pushed away. She was bent over it. Not in a swimming position but with her head down, and told to grip the lower rung.
Alison twisted her head. And saw that Rev Smithers now had a cane in his hand. Just like that dreadful Major Folkestone.
Hey! No!’ She began to get up but was stopped.
Don’t move, Alison. Keep down. I’m just going to… that swimming was not all that good. And also… er, you are in need of something anyway.’
No!’ she yelped again. ‘Not the cane!’
But Tristram Smithers had to. It was that Major Folkestone of course. He had been so turned on by those stripes the other man had put across the girls’ bottoms that he just had to do it himself. He had got the cane yesterday, a specialist shop up in London.
‘Keep still, Alison. It won’t hurt.’
That of course could not be true. It was bound to hurt, especially with Alison’s bottom still slippery wet from the bath. Tristram Smithers knew that and he also knew he had to hit pretty hard to produce one of those heady stripes.
Rev Smithers’ bathroom and indeed the whole house was split by an ear-piercing shriek. It was just as well his housekeeper was out. She had heard shrieks before, naturally, but not quite like this one.
Get back into position.
Because with the force of the stroke squarely across her dimpled rear, and the searing pain, Alison had sort of fallen sideways. Rev Smithers pushed her back. She was still howling. The bright red double line was coming up very nice! That Folkestone character had given them six. Tristram Smithers had to do at least that, he just had to.
This time the frantic Alison came right off the stool, to finish up on the floor. Rev Smithers, red-faced, hauled her back.

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