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Monday, 29 January 2018

Pretty Pony Girl

From New Blushes 2.16
Wandering down the lane Diane Jordan was dreamily thinking about horses. Not any particular horse, just that it would be so nice to have one. The family had moved two days ago to this village in the heart of the country and so it was a possibility, but she didn’t think her parents could afford it, and anyway you needed a field or paddock and their cottage didn’t have that. Still it was nice to imagine it and that was what she was doing as she strolled down the lane on this lovely autumn afternoon. Having a pony, or maybe even finding someone else who had one and who wouldn’t mind her helping with it. Grooming and feeding. And riding a bit. Not that she had any experience really but she could learn…
And then, coming to a gap in the hedge and a gate, she saw it: the most beautiful young chestnut gelding. The sight almost took her breath away. Seeing it framed in the autumn yellows and golds of the hedge was almost like being in a dream…
She stepped over to the gate and the horse came up to greet her, nuzzling her hand. Diane felt a shudder of elation. She began petting and talking to the lovely animal, oblivious to everything else.
How long was she standing there? She lost track of time. But then suddenly… she was aware that someone else was there. Standing beside her. A man.
James Linford had seen her as he came round the bend of the lane. A teenage girl standing at the gate petting his horse Dixie. A quite tall, slim girl with shoulder-length auburn hair under a wide-brimmed straw hat. In a short-sleeved shirt and shorts, and the brief shorts revealed long, shapely bare legs. He stood stock still, feeling a frisson of excitement.
He had just the back view but she could be no one he knew. But then the thought came: the new people in the cottage. She would be from there. He chewed his lip. Those legs… And her bottom of course. The shorts were loose-legged but tight to her flanks. His eager eyes could make out the outline of brief knickers underneath enclosing a girlish but also quite full bottom. He had a sudden vision of having that bottom over his lap. Those shorts lowered and the bare nubile flesh…
His thoughts went to a girl called Jenny. She had left the village six months ago, but she had been very keen on horses. Very keen to help with Dixie. And in exchange for that and being allowed to ride him, Jenny had been prepared to allow James considerable liberties. Including, for (mostly imaginary) shortcomings, taking her over his lap and taking her knickers down. Yes Jenny Farland. She had been 17. Which was about this new girl’s age.
Feeling an undeniable tension in the front of his trousers now, James stepped forward.
‘Oh!’ she uttered. ‘Oh! I… uh…’
The man smiled. ‘I see you’re making friends with my Dixie. I’m James Linford. And you must have moved into the cottage.’
‘Oh… yes…’ Diane was conscious that she was flushing. The man was not old, in his thirties perhaps, and pleasant-looking. He was quite smartly dressed in a suit.
Beneath the straw hat James now saw wide grey eyes and a sweetly pretty face, flushing somewhat. And twin girlish bulges thrusting out the front of her blue blouse. Below that, his eyes couldn’t avoid taking in the bulge of her pussy mound in the tightish shorts. With difficulty he forced his mind away from her body.
‘I… I’m Diane,’ she stuttered. ‘Diane Jordan. He’s lovely. Is that his name? Dixie…’
She was conscious again that she was blushing.
Dixie! Diane lay awake thinking of him. And of Mr Linford too of course. Mr Linford had been so nice. Saying she could help with Dixie! Even take him out, ride him!! She was going round to Mr Linford’s place in the morning. It was just so fantastic!
She had run home, to blurt out her marvellous news. As she might have expected Eric, her brother, hadn’t been that impressed. Eric was 15 and not interested in horses. But her parents had fully shared her enthusiasm, knowing how much she had wished for something like this.
In fact, though, there had been just a little doubt in her parents’ minds, or her mother’s anyway. They didn’t know this Mr Linford, and a mother can certainly have those little doubts about strange men where her daughter is concerned. Gillian Jordan, in bed with her husband in the room next to Diane’s, was indeed at that very moment seeking reassurance. It was going to be alright for Diane to go over to this stranger’s place?
‘What are you worried about?’ Steve Jordan asked. He took his wife’s hand and slid it onto his erect penis. ‘Is it this?’
Gillian gave a shocked gasp. An erect penis was at the core of her worries although she would rather not be that blunt about it. Yes, this unknown Mr Linford’s penis. Gillian knew she shouldn’t imagine such things and no doubt he was perfectly nice and reliable. But she couldn’t help it. The thought of him soft-talking Diane. While his organ was stiffening up. Greedy for sweet, innocent Diane. Eager to thrust into her…
She shivered. ‘Don’t Steve!’ But he was making her take hold of his hot, stiff flesh. Then slide her hand up and down. Masturbating him. Men were awful. At times they seemed to think of nothing else. Which was why she was a bit concerned.
Steve, aroused now, had his way. Climbing on top of Gillian, and was soon enjoying a pleasurable fuck. Gillian submitted, her thighs slack, and then gripping his thrusting flanks. Diane, in the next room and wide awake, would probably have heard the bed rhythmically rocking. Except that her head had time only for the heavenly Dixie.
But maybe Gillian Jordan was right to be a little anxious…
Gillian was wearing virtually the same as yesterday, because that was what Mr Linford had suggested. He had said she looked so nice in that outfit, which had made her blush. James Linford had particularly meant the shorts of course, which showed Diane’s lovely long limbs off to such stunning effect. That wide-brimmed straw hat was very becoming too. But mainly it was those shorts, which were tight enough to her ripe young bottom to show quite clearly the line of her knickers.
Yes, she had worn them again! That was distinctly promising.
‘Lovely!’ he told her. And Diane blushed again, as she had yesterday. His house was further on down the lane and they were in the sitting room. It looked out onto the garden and beyond that was the beginning of the field. That was where Dixie was, with his barn just to the side of the house. Diane was eager to get out there, to groom him or something.
James could guess what she wanted. But a few preliminaries would be in order first, to give her an idea of things. Girls of that age could be desperately keen on horses, as Jenny Farland had been, and Diane was clearly the same. And if a girl was that keen…
‘I know you’re raring to go outside,’ he told her. ‘But we’ll have a little chat first.’ He sat down on the settee. ‘Would you like to sit on my lap, Diane?’
She flushed, then shook her head. ‘Come on. We’re going to be friends, aren’t we? And I want to tell you about this other girl who used to come and help me with Dixie. She was a lot like you.’ He laughed. ‘Maybe not quite as pretty though!’
Diane hesitated. She could feel her pulse racing now. Sitting on Mr Linford’s lap would be really scary. Mr Bingley, their next-door neighbour at their other house, had sometimes persuaded Diane to sit on his lap, and when she had his hands had gone everywhere. Of course Mr Linford might not be like that and anyway Mr Bingley was older and not at all attractive. Not like Mr Linford — though that made the prospect even more scary in a way. But she couldn’t afford to seem unfriendly, not when there was Dixie…
So when James’s hand reached out for her arm Diane didn’t resist. She allowed herself to be pulled forward, and shortly she was sitting on his lap. His arm came round her waist… and his other hand came down onto her bare knee. All at once she seemed to have difficulty breathing, her heart was thumping so much.
He began telling her about this other girl called Jenny.
‘Of course Jenny had to learn what to do. Like you, Diane, she didn’t know anything about horses to start with. So to make sure she concentrated and didn’t make too many mistakes we had a series of penalty points. Then at the end of the day we would add up the points. And if they reached a certain figure there would be a punishment.’
The hand on Diane’s bare knee squeezed. ‘It wasn’t a very dreadful punishment of course. But something she didn’t like. Or at least she didn’t like it at first. Though possibly after a while she may have come to enjoy it.’
Diane’s breathing was still agitated, and her heart going pit-a-pat. Because sitting on Mr Linford’s lap like this was highly nerve-racking. Her scantily-clad bottom in his lap. His hands quite intimately on her body. And with the nervy fear that at any moment the hands would start to become even more intimate, as nasty Mr Bingley’s hands always had. In this state it was difficult to concentrate properly on what Mr Linford was saying.
‘I wonder if you would enjoy it, Diane? Of course I could do it harder. That was what I did with Jenny when she was getting more used to it. Smack her bottom harder. Quite hard in fact.’
Had she heard that right??
The arm round Diane’s waist squeezed more tightly.
‘Yes. That was the punishment of course. A spanked bottom. I would make her lift her skirt. Or take her shorts down, if she was wearing shorts like you are. And then I would spank her bottom. Sometimes I would take her knickers down as well, and give it to her on the bare.’
Diane felt a bit faint. He couldn’t have said that, could he? Spank her bottom… The hand on her knee had slid up. It had moved up onto the silky expanse of her thigh. She squirmed. Underneath her bottom… something seemed to move…
Yes James was getting horny. His prick, with the delicious weight of Diane’s bottom pressing down on it, had inevitably stiffened up. It was thrusting up in the only space available — in between the soft cheeks of her bottom. And Diane could feel it! She could guess what it was. She squirmed again, with a little cry. She wanted to get off his lap — but James had a firm grip of her. And there was this awful business he was talking about. Spanking her bottom! He couldn’t mean it!
James was really horny now. His stiff prick was being unconsciously massaged by the squirmings of Diane’s delightful bum, producing thrilling transports of pleasure. It was fantastic, but it only stimulated him to wanting more. What he especially wanted was the pleasure of smacking Diane’s bum, and without delay. As well as this, and Diane’s mother would no doubt tremble at the thought, he felt also a strong desire to fuck Diane. He had fucked Jenny a couple of times towards the end of the period when she was coming round. But James wasn’t expecting to fuck Diane today. Sometime soon if he was lucky, but it was unlikely to be today. But spanking her bum… Yes!
‘Have you ever had it spanked, Diane dear? That delightful bottom.’
With a strangled gasp she shook her head. This was all getting to be pretty dreadful.
‘Ah. Then what would be a good idea would be a little trial spanking. So you know what it’s like. Isn’t that a good idea? Right now!’
Diane went a little berserk. He couldn’t mean it! But James Linford did mean it. Yes, he really did want to take her shorts down and bend her across his lap. Right there and then…
She tried to plead with him. In a nice way, because she did so much want to be allowed to work with Dixie. She was trying to push out of her mind the indisputable fact that Mr Linford had an erection. Diane knew about such things of course, not from any experimentation with boys as yet, but from Biology class in school. And also it must be said from those times on Mr Bingley’s lap. Mr Culbert, Biology, had said that sometimes a man couldn’t help getting an erection, it could simply be a response to perhaps accidental stimulation. So maybe Mr Linford didn’t intend anything by it, it had just happened. Mr Bingley of course had been in a different category, he would quite deliberately rub it against Diane’s flank or rear.
But anyway Diane wasn’t really thinking about the erection now. It was this other awful development. Mr Linford wanting to take her shorts down! To make her display her bottom in her very brief and decidedly flimsy knickers. And then…
She vigorously shook her head. Forgetting even Dixie for the moment. But Mr Linford was pushing her to her feet, while keeping a grip on her arm. He wanted her over his lap! Diane squealed, but she couldn’t really struggle in a serious way. She could only plead… And James Linford wasn’t taking any notice of the pleading.
Getting impatient he brusquely told her to stand still and be quiet. At this sudden authoritarian tone Diane couldn’t help responding.
‘That’s better.’ He pulled her close and his hands went to the side-fastener of her shorts.
‘You have to show some discipline, Diane. That’s the very first thing we need to learn.’
It was happening — and there didn’t seem to be anything she could do about it. He was taking her shorts down! She felt sick…
James dragged the shorts down close to Diane’s knees. Underneath were tight little knickers, white and semi- transparent. They were tight over her pussy mound and he could see the darker shadow of her pussy hair. He pulled her down, feeling hot excitement now.
Diane gasped as she flopped down across his lap. And then another shuddery gasp as James’s hand groped her bum. He sharply smacked one cheek and then the other, producing yelping squeals.
Then his hand was groping again.
‘We can take the knickers down, Diane. Or we can pull them up as tight as possible.’
‘Don’t take my knickers down!’ she gasped.
‘Alright. Maybe next time, eh? But this time… just up nice and tight…’
And that was what James proceeded to do. Yanking the knickers up impossibly tight! Right up into her pussy and the cleft between her bottom-cheeks. To leave Diane’s bottom effectively bare.
It was really dreadful, being spread across his lap like this with her bottom bare, and also very painful where the knickers were yanked up hard into her pussy. She began to plead but her pleas became a yelp as his hand splatted down on one bare cheek.
Then another frantic yelp as he hit her again on the other cheek.
‘I’m not spanking hard.’
James delivered another hard spank.
‘I’m hardly touching you.’
‘Am I?’
He was alternately whacking left and right cheeks. Making the soft-fleshed moons joggle from side to side and leaving bright-red palm prints on the pale flesh. It was really stinging and Diane was already close to tears.
The awful spanking continued, for some minutes. At last he stopped and hauled Diane up.
‘What’s this? Not tears!’
Yes there had been tears, Diane’s face was flushed and wet. Because it had been so absolutely dreadful: the sharp sting of the spanks but just as much the embarrassment and humiliation of having her bottom bare and his hand cracking down on it.
James pulled her down to sit on his lap again. Diane’s shorts were still halfway down her thighs so it was her bare bottom now in his lap. His prick was still stiff of course. It had been in the general vicinity of her pussy while he was spanking her and there had been the extra stimulation as she had writhed about on top of it. Now his stimulated prick was being pressed on by Diane’s delicious bottom again. He was undeniably very horny.
‘I don’t know why you were crying,’ he told her. ‘I wasn’t hitting very hard. And you’re a big girl, aren’t you?’
Diane, still sniffing and very conscious of her bare bottom, was urgently wishing she could get off his lap.
‘Yes a big girl. And quite a sexy one too, with a lovely body. You got me quite excited, do you know that?’
She didn’t have any possible answer to this.
‘I’m sure you could feel it, young lady. Because you’re sitting on it. You’ve given me quite an erection, that’s what I mean.’
Diane could feel herself flushing bright red. She couldn’t believe what he had said. She was aware of the fact that he had an erection of course. But for him to refer to it… He was pushing her off his lap now, onto the settee next to him. And then he took her hand. He placed it on that bulge in the crotch of his trousers…
Diane, with a gasp, jerked her hand away, but not before he had made her momentarily grip the stiff flesh through his trousers.
James laughed. ‘Don’t be silly. After all, as I say, you’ve caused it, Diane. And you’re a big girl now. Have you got a boyfriend?’
She desperately shook her head. James was pulling her hand over again.
‘You’ve had lessons at school though. Sex lessons. You know about these things. And now’s the chance to get some practical knowledge. To see what it’s all about.’
She tried to pull away but she couldn’t because James now had one arm round her and was holding her close. His other hand was unzipping his trousers…
It came out. Unbelievably huge it seemed to Diane. A great big thing with a bloated dark-red head. He wanted her to hold it. Stroke it. Grip it and slide her hand up and down…
She desperately tried to refuse. James, his pulse thumping like a train, said just for a couple of minutes. Then they would go out to see Dixie.
Diane’s head was spinning. This was worse than the spanking, if that was possible. Yes it was possible and it was definitely worse. Because somehow she was doing it. Doing what he wanted. Masturbating him in fact.
‘How did you get on?’ Gillian Jordan asked, trying to make it sound nonchalant but having difficulty keeping the anxious edge out of her voice.
She had had difficulty thinking of anything else during the whole two hours that Diane had been gone. It was silly but she couldn’t help it. Really awful images had kept slipping into her mind. Diane and this Mr Linford up in a bedroom. Where poor innocent Diane had been persuaded to remove her knickers and was now in the bed. With Mr Linford on top of her. His erect penis up inside her…
Or similar action out in the horse barn perhaps. Diane bending over a bale of hay, again with her knickers off. And Mr Linford having his way with her. That large stiff penis…
It was silly of course but she just couldn’t help it. But anyway here was Diane back and clearly right as rain. Nothing awful had happened.
‘OK. Super.’ Diane also doing her best to keep the nervousness out of her voice. And well, it had been super if you could forget that first bit in his sitting room. After that she had had a really great time with Dixie.
After she had sponged off that awful white stuff which had shot all over her blouse. She thought she had sponged it clean but to make doubly sure she intended surreptitiously slipping the blouse in the washing-machine.
Yes, she had had a great time with Dixie. And she was going round there again tomorrow. That would be great too. The only thing was she knew there would be more of that awful stuff first.

Join the Dots…

From Uniform Girls 18. A continuation of St Probyn's Penitentiary
‘In here. Nurse Taylor.’
Mrs Jarrett ushering her in. A little room like the others; like her own room where yesterday Mr Canfield had caned her; and the other one where Mr Linford had examined her. This room had just a bed, no table or chair. No covers on the bed, only the bare mattress with a white sheet stretched over. At the head of the bed the tubular framework had been swung out, forward, to rest on the mattress, the way it was put for a patient who had to be supported at an angle.
‘Mr Canfield will be in shortly.’ Mrs Jarrett’s business-like voice. ‘Meanwhile you can get undressed. Take your uniform off, and your knickers. You can leave the rest on if you wish. As long as there is access…
Mrs Jarrett went out. Closing the door. Teresa looked at the bed and took a deep breath. It reminded her of that business with Mr Linford. Except that bed had been normally set up, not with a sloping frame like this one Her mind ran over what Mrs Jarrett had said. The precise words.
Hands at her belt. They all had it, whatever it was. All Probationers had to come here for two weeks and whatever Mr Canfield was going to do must have happened to other girls. Like that caning yesterday that made her feel sick even to think about. He wasn’t going to cane her again? No. Please God not another one like that. And Mr Linford… Thinking again of those last words of Mrs Jarrett. Don’t think. Just do what she said. Get your uniform off. And knickers. Don’t give him any excuse. You had to obey instructions.
There were four other Probationers here — or that was the number that appeared for supper yesterday and breakfast this morning, with Mrs Jarrett sitting at the head of the table But you couldn’t find anything out because there was no talking allowed at meals. Or anywhere else it seemed. After supper (not very nice stew) it had been back to your room, do an hour’s study of the Nursing Manual and then get into bed. ‘You will need plenty of sleep,’ Mrs Jarrett had said.
Why? What did you have to do? What were they going to do to you? Mr Canfield. Mr Linford. Anyone else. What was Mr Canfield going to do now?
Teresa had stripped off, as Mrs Jarrett had told her. Down to bra, nylons, suspender-belt, high-heels. She had just taken her knickers off when the door opened. Her heart began making wild bumps. But he didn’t have it in his hand. That had been her main fear, that cane. Instead Mr Canfield was carrying a black leather bag. There was no cane… but what was in the bag?
She was standing, trembling, with her knickers still in her hand, held in front of her. Mr Canfield took the knickers, and told her to stand in the corner with her hands on her head. Numbly she obeyed. He gave her a hard stare, grunted, and went out. Teresa’s wide eyes focussed on the black leather bag left on the floor.
Mr Canfield was only gone a minute and then he was back. ‘Right, Nurse, shall we start? Get on the bed please.’
Kneeling on a pillow with her upper body supported against the bare metal frame. ‘Bend your head right over. Right down. Grip as far down as you can. And spread your knees.’
It was a position reminiscent of that required by Mr Linford. She wasn’t upside-down but the way her legs were spread… Mr Canfield was opening his bag. Something. She couldn’t really see. Something metal? Shaped like a…? Teresa’s mouth opened. Mr Canfield’s precise voice. ‘Just relax, Nurse. It doesn’t hurt, not if you relax. Relax everything.’ She made a ‘Nnnggghhh’ sound. His hands. Sliding up her sensitive inner thighs. And then… that…
‘Keep relaxed. Legs nice and wide…’

St Probyn’s Penitentiary

From Uniform Girls 18
Teresa glanced out of the window but there was nothing to be seen. Unless you counted the blank brick wall opposite. She sat on the bed again, eyes fluttering, nervous. The bed and a wooden table and chair, that was all there was in the bare little room. Like a prison cell almost. The bed with its stark tubular metal frame could easily be imagined in a prison cell. She squirmed her bottom. The blanket she was sitting on was a vivid royal blue. A violent colour, scary in itself in a way. The whole place was scary. The two starched white pillows precisely placed; the metal jug on the table… Downstairs…
She hadn’t really seen anything downstairs. Too scared to look and anyway that Matron, Mrs Jarrett, had marched her straight through the hallway and up the stairs. ‘You will wait in your room until Mr Canfield is ready for you, Probationer. Mr Canfield deals with Probationer Nurses and he will see you shortly, I expect.’
St Probyn’s Training Unit. She had heard it referred to as St Probyn’s Penitentiary and in the little room with Mrs Jarrett clanging the door shut behind her Teresa could easily see why. But more to the point, though, what did you get here? What was the training? She had asked and no one would tell her. Girls who had been had only given a blank look. Or shook their heads. ‘You’re not supposed to ask, Teresa. It’s confidential, haven’t you been told that?’ Yes she had but girls were usually prepared to talk about things. It seemed they weren’t about St Probyn’s. Nothing except that single humourless joke: St Probyn’s Penitentiary.
You all had to come here, at least there was that. All Probationers had a two-week stay, once they’d done their first hospital period. So it couldn’t be too awful, could it? Not if everyone had it. Sitting on the bright blue blanket Teresa told herself that. ‘Take your coat off,’ Matron had said. ‘You’ve got your uniform on?’
She had put her coat in the cheap little cupboard, with her bag. Yes, Teresa had her uniform on. Mrs Smith, Matron at the hospital, had checked that out before she left. ‘What have you got underneath, Probationer Taylor? Not tights?’
Teresa said yes she had. ‘Tights are not correct wear for St Probyn’s. You wear proper black nylon stockings with a suspender-belt. Have you got any?’
Teresa hadn’t. She wore tights always, like most other girls. No one at the hospital said you couldn’t wear tights with your uniform. ‘Well you’d better borrow from someone. And you wear black knickers. Mr Canfield at St Probyn’s is very strict on detail. You must be properly turned out.’
So under her blue-striped uniform dress and white apron Teresa had on nylons and a suspender-belt, borrowed from another girl. She also had on black high-heels. That was something else required. Naturally you didn’t wear high-heels in the hospital but they were required here, at St Probyn’s. The suspender-belt felt funny when you weren’t used to wearing one. Something else to put you on edge in this horrible little room. Teresa stood up and then sat down again. This Mr Canfield… What was he like…? ‘Very strict on detail.’ She looked again at the door.
Five minutes later it opened. Teresa’s heart gave a violent thump. Mr Canfield? He was quite young, in his thirties, in a short white coat over trousers. She got shakily to her feet.
He smiled. ‘Hello. Teresa Taylor? I’m Graham Linford. Mr Canfield is tied up for the moment but I have to see you anyway. Your examination.’
It wasn’t Mr Canfield after all. And what…? ‘Come with me please.’
Out into that bare white-walled corridor and into another little room. Very much like her own one except the bed didn’t have that bright blue blanket on it. Instead there was a white sheet. Mr Linford was closing the door behind them. ‘Slip your things off,’ he said. ‘I’ve got to have a look at you.’
Oh. Flushing. He gave her that smile again. He was quite good-looking. ‘Come on, Nurse. We must learn to move smartly here. You’ll need to move smartly for Mr Canfield.’
Fumbling at her apron, and then the dress. She had to take everything off and get on the bed. ‘You can leave the nylons and suspender-belt, but everything else.’ Mr Linford said. ‘It’s just a routine examination. Are you a virgin?’
She mumbled something, hot-faced, and had to repeat it. ‘Not… uh… no…’ Breathless, Teresa had her knickers off now and had got on the bed. On that cold white sheet. On her back. It wouldn’t perhaps have been so bad if Mr Linford was an older man but he wasn’t. Only about 30, good-looking. ‘Raise your knees,’ he told her. ‘And open your legs. It’s only routine. Right… let me see…’
Her nyloned knees were spread wide and Mr Linford… His hands… It’s only routine, she told herself. Desperately. His fingers were there. Carefully probing. His quiet voice asking her, with his fingers now… inside. ‘Only… twice…’ she gasped out. Mr Linford, as his fingers did what they were doing, wanted details. Who. When. Exactly what…? ‘It’s routine, Nurse, but we need it for the records.’
It was the worst thing. Just the worst thing. That you could imagine. Not knowing where to look when it was finally over and she could sit up. Standing up on wobbly legs. Her boobs and pussy bare. Her pussy that… She could still feel those fingers…
Mr Linford slapped her bare bottom. ‘OK? Get dressed now. That seems OK. We’ll see if Mr Canfield is ready.’
Somehow getting her things back on. She was all hot, all shaky. Her mind still focussing on it. Lying there. Her legs wide open. Mr Linford… Mr Linford with those nice blue eyes was smiling. ‘That was all right, wasn’t it? Some girls quite enjoy it, I believe.’
Back in the other room. Mr Linford left her there, shutting the door again. There was no Mr Canfield, not yet. The room was just the same. Then she saw it wasn’t. On the table, next to that white jug. There was now a cane.
Teresa stared at it, thinking for a moment it was a mental aberration. Her mind playing tricks after that traumatic business in the other room. No, it was a cane all right. She picked it up, and quickly put it down again. It certainly hadn’t been there before. Who had put it there. And what was it for?
Two minutes later the door opened again. An older man, in a suit. Teresa got shakily to her feet again. It must be, this time… she stood upright, feeling herself trembling, her thoughts darting wildly here and there… and back to what was on the table.
He came close. In his fifties probably, smooth grey hair, glasses. Yes, he would be Mr Canfield all right, in that suit. Eyes behind the glasses silently sizing her up.
‘Probationer Taylor?’ A firm, not-very-friendly voice. Teresa nodded. Scared little words popped out: ‘Yes sir.’ She could still feel Mr Linford’s hands as she lay on that other bed in just the nylons and suspender-belt. With her legs wide.
‘Your collar, Nurse. Is this how you normally wear it?’
Her collar? Teresa’s hand went up. Oh. One side was sticking out from behind the apron top. From when she had got dressed again in the other room in front of that Mr Linford. Hardly conscious of what her hands were doing.
‘Leave it. Don’t adjust it now. We will consider it further later. But could it be typical of your approach, Nurse? Slipshod? Not too concerned with proper standards? Not too concerned with discipline?’
No!… No sir.’
His hands were at her waist. At the buckle of her belt. That wasn’t wrong, was it? Too loose or something. She realised she was holding her breath, and let it go. A little frightened moan came out with it.
His hand came away. ‘Bring the chair over. Stand up on it. Then lift your skirt. We will see if there are other examples of improper turn-out.’
The wooden, straight-backed chair that was at the table. Teresa tried not to see the cane as she took the chair. There couldn’t be anything else: a suspender-belt not fastened, a stocking seam not straight? Or in that awful unthinking state she had been in when Mr Linford had done with her she had somehow forgotten to put her knickers on again? This Mr Canfield really scared her. And there was that cane. He can’t cane me, she thought — but the cane was there. For a reason.
Clambering onto the chair in the spiky heels. The seat felt slippery and she didn’t wear high-heels much, certainly not for standing on chairs. What if she fell off. Teresa swallowed. Dry spit in her mouth.
‘Lift it, Nurse. Right up. Round your waist.’
It wasn’t any worse than that Mr Linford. It wasn’t anything like as bad. Just lifting your skirt. But somehow it seemed as bad. Up on the chair and Mr Canfield’s face, his sharp eyes, on a level with her… Just keep calm. Don’t panic. Think of something. But what…? Teresa’s mind thought inevitably of that cane. Her skirt and apron up. Exposing the full length of the black nylons fastened with the straps of the white suspender-belt. They were fastened properly, they had to be, although she couldn’t look down. But she had somehow pinned her apron like that, with one side of her collar sticking out. ‘Mr Canfield is a stickler for detail.’ His hand was at one front suspender-strap. Checking that it was properly fastened, properly tight. The hand let go and slid round to the side strap. And then to the back of her bare thigh above the taut stocking. Stroking slightly. Teresa could hear herself breathing. She seemed to be gasping for breath. The hand had slid up, to the tight seat of the black nylon knickers. Jiggling her bottom. Another of those squeaky little moans came out.
‘These stockings, Nurse. Were you told you could wear patterned ones?’
The stockings had little black designs on them. Teresa had got them from that other girl, Monica, and hadn’t had time to think. You wore plain stockings (tights) in the hospital of course.
Oh God.
He had let go. ‘Right. Get down. Nurse. Put the chair back.’
She stumbled over, her skirt back in place again. Put the chair back. Stood trembling in front of him. He wasn’t going to do anything? Please.
‘Right, Probationer. Now I am going to cane you. Improper and slipshod dress.’
The shocking words that part of her had known were going to come. Now I am going to cane you… ‘Nnnnghhh…’ A mewling sound coming out of her mouth.
‘Get up on the bed. Kneel on it and drop your knickers. At St Probyn’s, Probationer Taylor, we do not stand for any sort of slipshod behaviour. That is the first lesson we have to learn. Come on, sharply please.’
Kneeling on the bed and hoisting her skirt again. Her collar, and the stockings. Hadn’t Monica known? But maybe you got caned anyway here. For something or other. That was why they wouldn’t talk about it, weren’t allowed to talk about it. Teresa’s hands were doing what they had to do. Pulling down her knickers. Baring her bottom. For that…
It was in Mr Canfield’s hand now. The cane. Teresa’s bottom bare: her skirt up round her waist, her knickers lowered to the tops of those patterned stockings.
‘Move the pillows, Nurse. Place them in the middle of the bed and lie down with your hips over them.’
‘Please…’ The word coming out although she knew there was no point in arguing. Mr Canfield was going to do it. Yes. She yelped as the cane came out and cut across the bare back of her thigh. A red hot, stinging pain. ‘Do it, Nurse.’
Lying down. Face down on the bright blue blanket. Her bottom exposed, raised up over the two gleaming pillows. Mr Canfield taking her hands, to put them together behind her back.
‘Keep the position, Nurse. Keep your hands together. I do not want them reaching for your bottom as soon as I put the cane to it. And I don’t want you diving around like a landed fish. Understand. Nurse? It is an exercise in discipline.’
She gripped her hands together. This was what they wouldn’t tell you about, weren’t allowed to tell you about. St Probyn’s Penitentiary. The bare cheeks of her bottom automatically clenching. Her mind had difficulty taking it in. That Mr Linford and now this. On her first afternoon here. There were two weeks, you had a two-week stay. At St Probyn’s Penitentiary…
‘Arrrggghhh! Noooo…’
Continued in Join the Dots...