Coming out of the school main gate a pretty girl with lovely long corn-blonde hair looks somewhat anxiously up and down the street. She is wearing a navy gymslip with white blouse and striped blue-and-black tie, with white knee socks and black flat-heeled shoes. Other girls straggling out are in the same general outfit (some in skirts and blouses, or with a navy cardigan). There are also boys, some in dark blue blazers but mostly just shirt sleeves because it is a warm afternoon. One of the boys comes up to the pretty blonde girl as she hesitates. He speaks to her but she impatiently shakes her head.
Her name is Nicola Colvin and she is 17, in the Sixth Form here. The boy whom she clearly doesn’t want to be bothered with, at this particular moment at least, is called Simon Brentley, also 17 and in the Sixth. Nicola likes Simon and she had been out with him but she goes out with other boys too, which Simon is not happy about. And anyway right now Nicola has something else on her mind which is the reason for her curt dismissal. Simon turns away, imagining that pretty Nicola is waiting for another youth; Keith Malving perhaps? He is wrong though. Nicola is not thinking of any boys at this moment.
It is a car that Nicola is looking out for. Or rather hoping she won’t see. A two-tone grey Hillman. The car of a neighbour called Mr Granford. Mr Granford gives Nicola a lift home sometimes and frequently she is quite happy to have the lift rather than having to walk to the bus stop. But sometimes Nicola isn’t and today is one of those days.
She has another look up the street. There is no sign of it. Mr Granford doesn’t always give her a lift; he is sometimes busy on business although he is officially retired now.
Hopefully today is one of those days. Nicola breathes a little more freely. Her hand at her side gives a surreptitious tug at her knickers. Her bottom is a bit sore. Because she has been caned this afternoon. That is why she doesn’t want to see Mr Granford.
But just then, as she is breathing her sigh of relief, there it is. Rounding the corner. Oh Christ! She wants to duck back into the gate but there is no way she could get there before being seen. Before Mr Granford has spotted that distinctive blonde mane. And anyway he would only wait…
Nicola is shortly climbing in next to him. Forcing a pleasant smile — but thinking anxiously of her bottom. It feels sore, still painful, as it makes contact with the seat. It will undoubtedly still bear the marks of that cane. Mr Philpott’s cane. And if Mr Granford should get to see those marks which Nicola is quite sure will not have faded yet…
Anthony Philpott is Head of History. The caning this afternoon was for Nicola’s essay handed in earlier in the week on aspects of the American Civil War. Perhaps it wasn’t a great essay, Nicola ruefully thought, but at the same time not deserving of a caning. Pretty certainly Mr Philpott would not cane anyone else, for one thing anyone else would complain: masters are not normally supposed to cane anybody. But Mr Philpott likes caning Nicola. He really likes it. Because of course she is such a lovely girl, with that seductively pretty face and marvellous long blonde hair.
And of course her figure which is really super, ripely burgeoning in all the right places. Oh yes, Anthony Philpott loves caning Nicola and more to the point he can. Because he has got hold of something which Nicola desperately wants to keep quiet. A thing she would in fact do almost anything to keep quiet. Including submitting to canings — and pretty regular canings it has to be said.
This nasty little something, this unfortunate skeleton in the cupboard, is that after a class outing last summer Nicola let herself be screwed by their coach driver. This is not quite how Nicola herself would present it if forced to make the matter public, she would no doubt say he had done it very much against her will. But the truth was that she had been joking and engaging in repartee with the youngish and quite good-looking driver during the trip. And he subsequently drove round to her house to find that NicoIa’s parents were conveniently out. And, as they say, intercourse took place. The coach driver had carnal knowledge of Nicola. He got well and truly up her in other words.
And Mr Philpott somehow found this out. And now… yes. If Nicola doesn’t want this unsavoury episode broadcast about she has to submit to not infrequent canings from Anthony Philpott.
And that is how on this muggy Thursday June afternoon Nicola Colvin comes to have those unmistakable red stripes, dulling somewhat now from their original brightness, on what she sits down on.
‘A hot afternoon Nicola dear,’ Mr Granford observes, driving off now with Nicola beside him. He is wearing a dark business suit and looks hot, his face quite pink.
‘Yes,’ Nicola agrees. ‘Yes it certainly is.’ She is certainly feeling hot too. The muggy afternoon but perhaps even more in her case that nasty caning she had half an hour ago. Mr Philpott is a real bastard.
‘I thought we might go round the country route. Get some air….’
Nicola has been expecting this. Mr Granford always wants to go round the country way, whether it is hot or not. But not today!
‘No! I mean… I’ve got to get back. Get my tea and then… do a lot of homework.’
Mr Granford laughs. ‘That doesn’t’ sound like you Nicola. More likely you’re going out with one of those boys. That Simon, is he the lucky one tonight? Or that Keith Malving?’
But they are inevitably heading out in the country, not on the direct route which would lead to Frobisher Avenue.
Nicola bites her lip. Bloody hell! Not that she is given to swearing verbally but in her head and in a situation like this, well, there are much stronger expressions which express her feelings. Because Mr Granford, when they are out there, in one of those two or three places that he likes to go. When they are parked… Mr Granford is inevitably going to start something. Something which equally inevitably is going to lead to him wanting to get her knickers off. And then if he were to see those marks on her bum what he will say… and more important what he will do?
The business with Mr Granford started about a year ago, when she started doing jobs for him on Saturdays. Mr Granford had asked her mother if Nicola might be available and Susan Colvin had said yes she was sure Nicola would be interested in earning a bit of pocket money and as long as it wasn’t interfering with her school work it would be quite OK. But presumably Nicola’s mother wasn’t aware that Henry Granford’s primary interest was in getting his hands on the delectably nubile Nicola. Getting his hands on that ravishing bottom, and on those splendidly blooming boobs.
Because that undoubtedly was Mr Granford’s main interest, as he had made evident from the very beginning. Accidentally-on-purpose feelings on her very first Saturday. Bolder ones on the second and on that second Saturday Nicola complained — to at least show she knew what was happening. And then Mr Granford came up with his suggestion. He would be happy to pay her more than had been agreed with her mother — if they could be, well, nice and friendly. That was how Mr Granford put it. What he meant of course was if Nicola would let him feel her up.
Henry Granford didn’t want to actually say it and Nicola didn’t want to acknowledge it either. With those deep blue eyes innocently wide she said, ‘You mean if I… let you put your arm round me? Uh, round my waist?’
‘Yes that sort of thing,’ Mr Granford agreed. He put his arm round Nicola’s waist. Hugging her avuncularly tight… and then letting his hand deliberately slide down to the ripe jut of her bottom-cheeks.
Nicola shot him a darting wide-eyed glance. But she didn’t attempt to remove the hand. And on the next Saturday Mr Granford suggested another major step forward. Suggesting that if he wasn’t completely satisfied with something he might perhaps spank Nicola’s bottom… hastily adding that here again they could naturally come to a financial understanding. And so they had, though here again Nicola didn’t want to make formal acknowledgement of such an arrangement.
She just blinked those big blue eyes and pursed those full lips… but did allow herself to be pulled over Henry Granford’s lap. And submissively allowed him, without a struggle, to pull up her skirt and then take down her knickers. Nicola hadn’t known if he had meant that — take down her knickers. Mr Granford hadn’t specified, not wishing to provoke a refusal. No, he had just done it and she hadn’t refused.
It was in a way a turn-on. His hand there, on her bare bum. Smacking hard down. Hurting certainly, sharply stinging, but definitely also a turn-on. And the next time it hadn’t been just the spanking. Mr Granford’s hand had slid in between Nicola’s warm thighs. To that, quite definitely moist, nest.
Nicola no longer went most Saturdays to Mr Granford because he had subsequently remarried and the new Mrs Granford did not require Nicola’s assistance in the house. Perhaps she also saw her as an unwelcome rival or distraction. But Nicola still sometimes went round, when Mrs Granford was out or away for some reason. And of course she also saw Mr Granford when he gave her a lift home. Which was almost always an extended lift, via these secluded country parking spots.
‘So, have we had a good day?’ Mr Granford asks once he has parked. ‘Not had to go to the Headmaster for the cane or anything?’
Nicola shakes her head. It is Mr Granford’s little joke, because he certainly doesn’t imagine the Head canes Nicola or anyone else, not any other girl at least. And nor of course does he know about Mr Philpott. Mr Granford has never yet seen those marks which Mr Philpott makes with such enjoyment on Nicola’s ripe rear. This is in a way remarkable because Mr Philpott has caned her quite a few times now, and of course Mr Granford has also given Nicola quite a few lifts home. And Mr Granford when he gives Nicola a lift almost always wants the same thing. He wants to park and then he wants to get in the back seat. And then he wants to take Nicola’s knickers down.
That is what Mr Granford wants now. As usual. After his joke about a caning from the Head, which Nicola, forcing a little laugh, has denied.
‘Uh, why don’t we, uh, stay here in the front? l mean it’s really hot and sticky today.’
Too hot for being mauled about in the back seat, is what Nicola means. A mauling in which various items of her clothing will be seriously interfered with or, quite likely, come off altogether. Too hot for that sort of business. But what Nicola is really concerned about is not the sticky heat but her bottom. Somehow Mr Granford hasn’t seen those cane marks yet. Not on any previous occasion. If he ever does… Nicola is sure he will get the whole story out of her. Because she is not very good at making up convincing stories. Or not at least to Mr Granford who can be very persistent and probing.
And if he were to find out she had screwed that coach driver… well she would just hate Mr Granford to know. Or anyone to know. It just seems like such a tatty thing to do. Screwing a bus driver. Nicola really didn’t know what got into her that day (apart from the bus driver, and that wasn’t a very funny joke at all). What was his name, Sid? Although of course she had done it and also if she was honest it had been a good turn-on and she had come. But she must have been bonkers. Bonking a bus driver. No it wasn’t funny. If Mr Granford found out, well, the next thing would be… what? Her mother? Boys at school? Don’t think about it, the thought made her sweat…
So no, Nicola really didn’t want to get in the back seat with Mr Granford. Not today thank you. But naturally Henry Granford was going to insist. Because the main object in giving Nicola a lift home was to park and then get her in the back seat. And then… well, take her knickers down and play about with that truly marvellous bottom. Get properly to grips with it. His hands clutching and groping. A spot of spanking no doubt. And a spot of… getting his hand in between her legs. Nicola’s hot and responsive pussy.
‘No, really. I’ve got to get back today. l really have.’
But of course he wasn’t taking any notice. Mr Granford was getting out. Then coming round to her side and opening the door and… pulling her out. What could she do! Something desperate? Fall down on her knees… and grab open his trousers? Pull out his thing and… maybe take it in her mouth. That would distract him. Suck him. Mr Granford would come and then… not be interested in the rest. In getting her knickers off in the back seat. Well maybe. But probably he would soon get interested again. So that she would have sucked him all in vain. And Nicola wasn’t that keen on sucking. She had sucked Keith Malving, also a boy from another school. And also… that bus driver.
Oh Christ! No she really didn’t like it at all.
And anyway while these thoughts were careering through Nicola’s head she had been half-dragged into the back seat. And Mr Granford’s hands were already busy. One hand groping her tits.. and the other up under her gymslip. Tugging at her navy nylon knickers.
‘No! Please…!’ she squealed. But they were nonetheless coming down.
What was she going to do! Nicola felt panic surging. In probably just seconds he would have her turned over his lap. With her bare bum on display! What was she going to do! And all she can think of is what she thought of moments earlier. She grabs the front of Mr Granford’s trousers. Making a gurgling sound that could possibly be taken for hot desire, though it isn’t. Mr Granford is stiff and she gets her hand round it. An up and down motion… and then she pulls open the zip.
She got it out and in her hand and commenced pumping. And in not too much time at all Mr Granford comes. Making appreciative groaning sounds. And spurting all over the place. Onto Nicola some of it, on her blouse front and gymslip. Oh Jesus! Will her mother see, and guess what it is? But… anyway, has it… got her anywhere?
Mr Granford is zipping himself up. Breathing heavily. ‘Well…’ gasping a bit. ‘We are a sexy girl today. Is that… what we do… for the Headmaster. If we get in a spot of bother?’
‘No! Of course not.’ Nicola feeling a trifle embarrassed. She hadn’t done it before. Not to Mr Granford at least. But if it has done the trick.
But it hasn’t. Once Mr Granford has recovered from coming… he wants the normal. He wants her over his lap.
‘For being such a sexy girl. And really, I’m not sure you don’t do it to your Head. Or that Mr Philpot or someone, eh Nicola?’
She struggles but to no avail. Mr Granford likes a bit of a struggle. And though he may be sixty or thereabouts he is strong enough to manhandle Nicola. So he does get her across his lap. Gets her knickers right off and her gymslip right up. And of course he can’t help seeing. Those cane marks. Dulled a bit now, but unmistakable. Dark red stripes across the ripe meat of her bottom.
What can she do? What can she say? There is no doubt whatsoever that someone has caned her. And Mr Granford will get it out of her, she knows he will. He will weasel it out. Nicola feels close to tears. She blabbers something in response to his question. She is still over Mr Granford’s lap and he has his hand between her legs. His fingers in her pussy. She whimpers.
And then the thought comes. Mr Granford is going to get it out of her. It will be awful, having to tell him about that bloody Sid the bus driver. But then… maybe she could ask Mr Granford to see Mr Philpot. Put the threateners on him. Because no doubt he could get thrown out for caning a girl, for whatever reason. It is strictly not allowed. And maybe it could be kept quiet with no one else having to know, not her mother or anyone at school. But Mr Bloody Philpott would have to stop his bloody caning.
Yes. It is really, really awful. Bit by bit stutteringly relating the awful story. Really bad. But… she has finally told it. She is sitting up now. And now Nicola only has her blouse on. Because as the words have come reluctantly out Mr Granford’s hands have been busy, in their normal way. As he listens, and probes for more. Just her blouse finally and it is of course fully unbuttoned. Mr Granford fondling her bare tits.
This place and the others where he likes to park are pretty secluded, you can be reasonably sure no one is going to come along. But not entirely. People have come by before. A man with a dog. A man with a woman once, probably looking for somewhere to indulge in an adulterous screw Mr Granford said. Nicola is never entirely happy about being stripped off like this, with always the possibility of having to grab for her clothes and cover herself, pretend she isn’t stripped right off. But today of course there are other things in the forefront of her mind.
‘A bus driver!’ Mr Granford says, somewhat incredulously.
‘He forced me. He said… I had been teasing him. Though l hadn’t of course. But anyway he said… l had got him all excited. All… aroused. And so… l had to let him. It was… really awful.’
But actually now having told the whole sorry tale, it isn’t as bad as she had thought. As is frequently the case anticipation is the worst part. And now of course Nicola can ask Mr Granford for help. Ask him to do something.
‘Because I know he isn’t allowed to do it. And it’s only because he can blackmail me and knows I can’t do anything…’ It is a sorry tale and Nicola can feel tears not too far away. She blinks the big blue eyes appealingly at Mr Granford. Surely he can do something. And will?
Yes Mr Granford will. Fantastic! He says not to worry, he will have a word with Mr Caner Philpott. Certainly Mr Philpott should not be taking advantage like this. It is blackmail. But don’t worry he, Henry Granford, will definitely put a stop to it.
Fantastic! Yes. Absolutely!
And Mr Granford is as good as his word. He does go to see the history master. And reports back to Nicola that she shouldn’t hear any more about it. Or be summoned for any more canings. Isn’t that great! Yes. It absolutely is! But there is just one thing. One other little matter.
One little thing that Mr Granford wants. Well, he says it is a little thing. As Nicola shakes her head in disbelief. No!
‘Why not?’ he says. ‘You did it before. And I bet you really enjoyed it.’
‘No! No… ooo!’ Nicola squeals.
Because what Mr Granford wants is something quite horrendous. How could he think of it? What he wants… is for Nicola to screw that bus driver Sid again. Out in one of those secluded spots where he likes to park. He wants her to do it… while he watches. Hidden in those bushes. He wants to watch Nicola fucking the bus driver.
And he is not joking. He means it! And also Mr Granford isn’t joking when he says otherwise he just might have to tell her mother. And maybe pass it on to a few boys. Simon, Keith, etc. But he doesn’t want to do that. What he wants is for Nicola to get in touch with that Sid. Say she really wants to see him again. And then get him to take her out.
Nicola can’t believe it. She can’t believe it. No! But Henry Granford just says a quiet but determined ‘Yes Nicola.’