From Whispers 3, a.k.a. A Private Session, a continuation of Musical Bottoms.
Bernard Hadley eased himself down into the somewhat antique but comfortable chair Rosie Leach had provided. He looked around. The atmosphere was certainly very different from that of the comfortable living room in which they’d held that amusing party last weekend. Almost a week ago now.
Rosie had directed him up some narrow wooden stairs to a bleak-looking attic room. It was stark and cold but, thoughtfully, Rosie had provided him with a blow-heater. Not that Bernard was much worried about the temperature for he had a warm glow of anticipation inside... for, three days previously, Rosie had agreed to lay on a ‘Private Session’ for him, with Sarah once again as the sacrificial victim. That would be far more exciting than the group discipline which had been handed out at the party.
‘Are you sure she’ll turn up again?’ he had asked on the phone.
Rosie had laughed. ‘She never left here, Bernard. She’s been my slave for a week.’
‘My God!’ Bernard experienced the sharpest pang of envy. Rosie seemed to be able to arrange, and get away with, almost anything. What wouldn’t he have given to be able to have that little 17-year-old darling as his personal possession for a whole week! He considered the idea from every aspect and found it quite enchanting. Probably bad for my heart, though, he consoled himself; so perhaps it was better things had been arranged as they were.
He heard footsteps mounting the attic stairs, then Rosie appeared through a doorway looking suitably dominating. She was topless but wore a heavy black belt about her waist; brief black knickers, with see-through lace at the front; arm-length black gloves, superb thigh-length black boots with very high heels. In her hand was a cane. Behind her, head hanging, came Sarah. She could scarcely have been more scantily clad, her so-called knickers being about the size of a couple of postage stamps! Rosie, legs astride, stood right before Bernard, looking very, very sexy indeed. His aging loins were definitely stirring; what a pity he could so rarely rise to the occasion these days!
‘On your knees before Mr Hadley, Sarah,’ ordered the blonde. She had a rather dreamy-look in her eyes, giving Bernard cause to wonder what the pair of them had been up to during the week. He could have a good guess, needless to say! ‘You will have seen my slave before, Bernard. Last weekend, in fact. You were one of a number introducing her to a more disciplined life.’
‘Yes... yes, that’s right, Rosie.’ His eyes were on the near-naked kneeling figure. How helplessly vulnerable she appeared. There was an air of what can only be described as defeat about her. Rosie’s hold over the girl was becoming ever more remarkable.
‘Look at Mr Hadley, slave,’ commanded Rosie. ‘And tell him what you have to.’
The head of light brown hair came up and nervous eyes wavered upon Bernard. He was consumed in equal measures with sexual lust, cruel pleasure and pity.
‘I am Miss Rosie’s slave, sir,’ came a small voice, ‘and so, while you are here, your slave also.’ The head dropped again and Bernard nodded understandingly. It could not have been easy for a girl of her age to make such a statement to an old lecher like himself.
‘Well done, Sarah,’ said Rosie. She smiled at Bernard. ‘Sarah is improving every day as a slave,’ she continued. ‘We had a few difficulties at first, but they have been overcome.’ She patted the girl’s head in proprietorial fashion. ‘She is now quite happy to serve me — just as I want. Correct, slave?’
‘Y-yes... Miss...’ Again Rosie smiled sweetly.
‘However,’ she resumed. ‘I am afraid that, earlier today, Sarah became rather rebellious. She started demanding to know when she was going to get her ‘freedom.’ When I informed her that the matter was not open for discussion, she became quite rebellious. And used some very naughty words for a girl of her age. As a result, she is now to be punished.’ Rosie swished the cane. ‘It will do the girl no harm to have you as a witness Bernard... and, I may say, I would like to have your co-operation a little later.’
‘Aahh...’ sighed Bernard contentedly, hands clasped over his belly.
‘It is often a good thing to have a man about on these occasions.’
‘Quite so, Rosie...’
‘Up girl!’ snapped Rosie sharply... and Bernard watched the sinuous figure move across the attic room towards a rope suspended from the rafters. Rosie looked back at Bernard. ‘I may tell you, the girl has been up here several times before to be disciplined.’ Bernard inclined his head and, once again, felt envy for Rosie’s powers of authority. ‘You are to be caned, slave,’ came that crisp voice. ‘And you thoroughly deserve it, don’t you?’
‘I... I... suppose... s-so...’ Even though Bernard felt a measure of pity for the girl’s helplessness, it was outweighed by his upsurging excitement.
‘There is no suppose about it,’ said Rosie in a voice of steel. ‘Grasp the rope, girl... and don’t let go of it!’
Two slim white arms went up, two tiny white hands gripped the rope. With something like callous cruelty, thought Bernard, Rosie pulled the lower end of the rope between the girl’s thighs, then hauled up on it, making it saw into the tenderest of flesh. Sarah squealed and wriggled. A most delightful spectacle! ‘Oh... please please...’ she kept gasping out. But Rosie continued pulling on the rope, her eyes filled with cruel satisfaction.
‘You’ll never speak to me like that again. Ever!’ The rope was suddenly released and the cane lashed down across Sarah’s delightfully rounded bottom. Another high-pitched squeal. More wriggling. Bernard felt his blood pressure rising. Well, why not? There were more important matters. Like young Sarah’s bottom twisting and turning frantically as Rosie lashed and lashed the cane across it. Like hearing the girl’s anguished cries of pain and desperate pleas for mercy.
‘You will... never... never... never... speak to me again like that!’
Each ‘never’ was accompanied by a cut from the cane. My God, how it made her writhe! Like a freshly landed eel! All the more so as the girl was clinging still to the swinging rope. She’s got guts, thought Bernard, as well as a superb young body.
‘Alright... you can let go...’ Sarah slumped to her knees on the bare floor. Rosie’s eyes had now lost their dreamy look. They were glowing. Bernard was glowing too, but in a different area! ‘Rebellious slaves are punished, Sarah. Don’t ever forget it!’
‘No... no... Miss Rosie... mmmmfff... mmmfff... mmff... I… I’m sorry...’
Bernard was astounded by the extent of the girl’s submission and saw a look of smug gratification on Rosie’s face. She was a woman who never hid the fact that she loved to be completely in control. ‘I am glad to hear it,’ she said firmly. ‘Now you will go and stand over there, face to the wall, put your hands on your head, and reflect on your shortcomings as a slave.’
Sobbing still, Sarah forced herself to her feet and obeyed the humiliating directive whilst, smiling contentedly, Rosie strolled across to where Bernard was seated.
‘Alright, old fruit?’ she asked, smiling wickedly.
‘Very alright,’ replied Bernard enthusiastically. ‘Do you know, Rosie, you never cease to amaze me. How do you...’
‘Oh shut up, Bernard. Ask no questions and you’ll be told no lies. Just enjoy yourself.’
‘Sorry... sorry, Rosie. You’re right, of course.’ Bernard grinned apologetically. He looked across at the slim figure in the corner. She might just as well have been naked since there was virtually only a string between her nates. Lovely! ‘You... er... you want me to play some part?’
‘You do want to, don’t you?’
‘Of course, of course. I thought that was what we agreed.’
‘Well, why do you ask, you old goat? I don’t let people down. No, Bernard, what you are going to do is cane the girl over my special punishment table.’
‘Yes, really. But not too hard mind. There are limits, you know.’
‘Oh, I understand. Just let me know when you think she’s had enough.’
Bernard had in mind to go fairly easy to begin with in order to spin the whole thing out.
‘I’ll do that,’ stated Rosie. ‘Meanwhile, I think we’ll give her another ten minutes or so to calm down. Sweet little thing, isn’t she?’
‘Delightful...’ sighed Bernard. Rosie nodded understandingly; there was no need for her to be told he wished he was twenty years younger.
‘She makes a marvellous slave,’ said Rosie. She lowered her voice. ‘In fact, I’m becoming quite fond of her.’
‘Is that a good thing, vis-a-vis-a slave?’ asked Bernard, a little grin emerging.
‘Maybe not,’ smiled Rosie, beginning to look dreamy again. ‘But it is always possible to change a girl’s status, is it not?’
Bernard considered this statement and came to no positive conclusion. After all women had always been a bit of a mystery to him. Therein, possibly, lay their eternal fascination.
The contrivance was simple. A squarish sort of table, one end of which could be lowered, thus ensuring that anyone bent over it had their hindquarters high.
Sarah had her hindquarters high... and Bernard was gazing down with the deepest pleasure, a cane swishing in his hand. Such a lovely young girl. So innocent, so vulnerable... and, seemingly, now a compliant slave. How had it all come about? No matter. Rosie had invited him to cane the girl and that was what he was going to do. No more than twelve, she had said; well, that wasn’t too bad. He wouldn’t go too hard, not to begin with anyway.
‘I am sorry you upset your Mistress, Sarah. It means you have to be punished.’ Bernard was at his verbals again. ‘You realise that?’
‘Yes... mmfff... yes sir...’ The small-rounded nates clenched convulsively. Fearful of inevitable pain; so infinitely attractive in their mute terror.
Bernard brought down the cane with a wristy stroke. Hardish, but not too hard. Oh what pleasure to see that bottom react! Jerking up, thumping down... flinching and clinching as it awaited the next stroke.
‘Mr Hadley is giving you twelve strokes, Sarah,’ came Rosie’s harsh voice. ‘I advise you to hang on as tight as you can. He is a gentleman who does not like a lot of trouble...’
‘Oh please... please... not twelve... Miss... I couldn’t bear it!’
‘You will bear it, Sarah. Because you have rebelled against your Mistress. Mr Hadley, kindly proceed.’
Bernard was only too delighted to do so. What a marvellous game it was and how splendidly Rosie arranged and played it. Mistress, Master and slave... not true really yet, in that unique private situation, something one could play out to one’s infinite satisfaction. He raised the cane again and wristily cut it down across the naked young buttocks presented to him.
Ten more to go, he said to himself. Wonderful! But they might take some time.
Bernard was right in his assumption. For he steadily increased the force of his strokes as the caning went on. As a result, it was only to be expected that the girl should lose her grip on the punishment device which Rosie had designed... crying out in pain and pleading as she squirmed down to the floor.
All the same, driven on by Rosie’s rasping commands, Sarah repeatedly presented her delicious hindquarters for Bernard’s attentions.
The final two strokes he gave her were harder than all those which had preceded. In the end, that exultant delight of inflicting pain dissolved within Bernard into a sense of pity once again.
He caressed the quivering-soft flesh. Had an urge to say he was sorry, but did not do so. He simply enjoyed the feel of the juvenile, hot flesh.
Because it had to be.
‘Sarah,’ he said with sudden sharpness. ‘Get off there. Stand up.’ He watched the girl force herself up; saw her quivering, tear-streaked cheeks and doleful, hopeless eyes. A surge of power went through him. This was the moment to assert authority. As a Master over a slave.
‘Girl,’ he said, voice thick, ‘remove your knickers.’
It was a joke, really; they were so small. But that wasn’t the point. It was a matter of principle. That he was in a position to give the order and see it obeyed.
Bernard watched the final flimsy item dispensed with — feeling the very deepest delight and satisfaction.
Rosie Leach still looked dreamily content. No doubt she had her own ideas about the evening ahead for her slave and herself.